The Game Of Scorb

Happily Gone

You are Derrik Daimon and you are practically begging your flush crush to kill you. You had confessed to her, probably at the worst of times, and she denied you. She said that she would rather die than be any relationship with you. Red or black.

No one likes you. No one has. Not even your Lusus liked you. He raised for a little while before he realized that you weren't worth his time. You were orphaned. Like your ancester.

Now you are going to die. Like you've always wanted. Your blood will be used to paint the walls of this indigoblood's home. Your body will be strung up and drained of it's blood. Like your ancestor.

Shammy smiled as she began mutilating your body. Starting will small cuts in your torso and upper arms, then moving on to violent stabbing with her jagged dagger. This continued until you finally died.

You can't come back. And your glad for that. Your dreamself died a long time ago. You happily let go of your life. Just like your ancestor.

You, the Bard of Void, are happily gone.