The curls of his blonde hair swayed with the breeze as he sat in the garden bench, staring at the well-trimmed bushes of flowers. The gifted sword of his lover's was on his lap as he cleaned it meticulously. His heart was upset and his mind was no better. He missed her. He wanted to be with her again, to hold her and love her. His blue eyes looked at the red roses and imagined the rose was dipped in blood, her blood. Gripping the hilt of the blade, he looked away and down at the weapon.
Clean it. Focus on cleaning it.
Those eyes of hate he saw, the way her voice shook… he felt his hands tremble.
'Get your shit together,' he berated himself.
Eve did not want to die, which meant she did not want to reborn. She does not want to be human. She does not want to be with… him.
