It has never snowed in his world until now. The blue waters of the lake were black and cold, bumping against the clear thin layer that separated liquid from air. The marble beams of the sacred prayer room melds with the white of the sky and the small, flakes of precipitation. The grey clouds dimmed the unseen sun-like light with a gloom and a dull fog like atmosphere, muting that dreamy world.
Elysion lay still as ice.
Her pink hair was the color of cotton candy. Her white skin seemed to turn translucent while her lashes, pale against the bluish tinge of her cheeks, fluttered as she struggled to keep them opened. Her head was still pillowed against his lap as he stroked the fanned strands of her hair, fingers faintly trembling. Her warm and solid form was fading, but even so, she still glowed, more brightly by the second into gold. She was warm and soft and ephemeral beneath his hands, turning into a bright ghost, a fading star, before his helpless eyes.
"Darling," he mouthed while his lips moved silently passed the white-cloud of his sigh to rest against her forehead. She reached up, one hand touching his pink, cold cheek with weak resolve. "Don't cry," she murmured and the sound of her whisper melted into the snow as that white melted into the pale his hair. "Don't cry," she repeated herself, ruby eyes shifting up the dark boots beside her as the salt of his tears slid across her skin. Her gaze followed the silver of the carelessly dropped staff, up the white-gloved arms that held onto her other hand, clinging and firm but oh so tender still. "I was the luckiest..."
But her burning eyes faded as her form shattered before she could finish her reassurance.
"Idiot," Pluto softly scolded, lips moving against the disappearing warmth in her empty hands as her shoulders shook with suppressed grief. "We were the lucky ones," she said to the emptiness of dreams and paradise.