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Chapter 122 (English Translation)

"Red Dead Sea"

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It was a dark world. A red world. A ghastly, grim dream world. Part of her knew this, somewhere in the back of her mind, but that was the part that never registered, that was senseless to existence and to her moving limbs. With numb smoothness, Sango lifted the Hiraikotsu over her head, holding it straight out to her side and dropping it with a dull thunk on the forest floor.

There were four bodies before her, lying still and silent in their odd and wild positions. Bodies that she knew, and yet she did not: a little form with a puff of golden fur and a shock of rust colored hair, his dainty fox feet dark with foul smelling mud from his failed, frenzied escape. He lay draped over the stomach of a pretty girl Sango's age with tangled jet black locks haloed around her pale face, barely hidden from her view.

Her arms were thrown at odd angles like a rag doll, her strange white kosode was wet looking and dark, a ghastly wound hidden by the tiny body of the kitsune, and a dark liquid trickled from her barely open mouth. Her delicate hands were smeared with sticky red, and her cold fingers were limply entwined with those of her clawed companion slumped beside her. His back was against a tree, his chin lolling against his bloody chest and ochre eyes wide and glassy, unseeing and contrasting sharply against the sanguine river that sat stickily against his cheeks, the tiny snow-white hairs of his bangs clinging to his cheeks. His jaw was hanging slackly open, dog ears drooped and limp, and his other hand held an ancient, rusted sword. There was an unholy gash that oozed sluggishly across his chest, starting in his heart, crossing his shoulder, and scraping its way in a clean, deep cut into the tree he laid his weight unknowingly against.

Across from him, nearly touching his bare feet, was a black-haired young man - a monk - sprawled across his back and similarly unmoving. Sango's eyes tracked his handsome features, from his dark brow shiny with sweat to his cheeks shiny with blood. They trailed down the bare expanse of his neck, with its long sinews and and along the sharp ridge of his throat that lead into his black robes that glistened in the red light filtering through the trees. His arms were flung across the ground at his sides like he were hung from a cross even as he lay there, motionless, his shakujo inches away from his slightly curled fingers. Her gaze turned back up to his face, to his dark eyes that were as glassy and hazed over as the hanyou across from him; empty, and blind, and dead.

Because that's what they were.

Dead.

Glossary:

none

A/N Yeah, I love writers block. So instead, I focus on creepy and gruesome descriptions from Sango's point of view, based off of a single panel in the manga, because that's the best. Also, the title is, quite literally, from the song I'm listening to... Because I listened to it all the while I was typing. Creepy song, but it's good.

I like descriptions. And graphic depictions of character deaths. Be on the lookout for those when I ACTUALLY update, like, an actual story. Because it's happening and I love it, lolz love ya

Currently listening to: Shut Eye - Stealing Sheep