i will follow you into the dark;
a darker shipping meme
It's the end of the line for you.. No matter how long you've been here on this planet, in this universe, that time is over now. Pain wracks your body, or perhaps it doesn't as you drift away from this life. All that remains is that ever fading light -
And the face of the one you care for the most.
For they are joining you on this last journey, as difficult or as easy as it can be. This could have been planned - you wanted to die together - or you both happened to be in the same place at the same time. Your world could be crashing down around you in a final armageddon; you could not be missed, the world turning without you two in it. One of you brought this onto you both; you tried to save your companion. You killed them yourself. It was all an accident...this wasn't supposed to happen...
How you've come to this doesn't matter so much in hindsight, though your sight is dimming as it as. What does matter is how you spend these last few moments with the person who means so much to you. If you're lucky, the two of you have lived a long, happy life together. Those who find themselves faced with a more tragic ending will have just realized their feelings for each other.
You don't have long, only a few moments. Make of them what you can. Reveal your secrets, touch their hand one last time, give them an embrace or a kiss. Apologize, if you see fit. Do what you did in life, but make it count and hope that you will see them again somehow.
- Comment with your character and preferences. If you have any ideas or anything you do not want to touch, be sure to include those, too.
- You can play this as serious and as dark as you'd like.
- Reply to others on the meme. Discuss scenarios, AUs, and crossovers.
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bakerstreet2014-03-17 08:02 am
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(Ooc: feel free! <3)
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Judas had shouted at them when they dragged him in, kicked up all kinds of a fuss. Made a point of being as loud as possible when calling them the scheming, cruel, duplicitous scumbags they are the whole journey from the street to the cell. But he's here now, locked away and powerless. Sat in the corner, unmoving. Jesus is here - he'd realised once he'd accepted his fate and sat to think it over - and that calms him. He feels guilty for it because he doesn't deserve it, but it does. Judas can't bring himself to speak to him. Can't even bring himself to look at him, not knowing if Jesus would look at him with condemnation or forgiveness but he knows he can't take either. Because either is confirmation of his betrayal just as sure as his bruises from an incredibly one-sided scuffle with the guards and the money in his bank account.
He feels as though maybe this silence is worse. As though ignoring Jesus is a bigger disrespect and a sharper twist of the knife than anything he could say. But what could he even say, really? Would he apologise? Beg forgiveness? It's all meaningless now. They'd be nothing but hollow platitudes to make himself feel less ashamed.
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Jesus had had no visitors. Peter had long since run off, he imagined. Mary likely with him. He felt himself friendless in this cruelty and questioning again how God could really have this in His plan. Surely, surely being alive to preach would do more than lay dead at the feet of those he thought loved him?
He'd thought off and on about Judas during his seclusion. Bright eyed Judas hissing as they dreaded his hair somewhere on the road in a clunky old RV. Angry Judas yelling at Matthew for that stupid Blog of his and the YouTube channel catching the wrong sort of attention. Brooding Judas trying to figure out how their last PBR can turned into twenty and refusing to believe, as little Peter did, that it was a miracle.
Jesus' eyes follow hurting Judas now as he's brought to the cell door and tossed inside. He looks nothing like himself, smudged eyeliner, one boot unlaced, the sleeve of his ironic band t-shirt ripped.
He doesn't wait for Judas to determine what the bigger respect would be, he crawls to him, bloody and broken and wearing ripped orange to embrace his friend. "Why are you hear?" he cries. "Why do you never listen?"
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It doesn't come out like that at all. Judas' tone is weighed down with exhaustion and sadness more than anything else. It's only recently that they could've settled their differences like this; that they could embrace and Judas would find his temper soothed. Not now, though. Jesus is a great man capable of incredible things, but as he returns the embrace (mindful of Jesus' injuries as he can possibly be,) he doesn't think even Jesus at his best has it in him to calm the maelstrom of rage inside him.
Though Judas does wonder if he has it in himself to ease some of that which ails Jesus in his final hour. If, that is, he can successfully navigate around potential arguments. Something he's already off to a bad start on.
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No matter how they beat or mock him. God's will is hard, but he has nothing left in his hand to play. To deny himself would still lead to his death. There's no escape.
Sitting back on his heels, Jesus presses his hands to his thighs. His knuckles are cracked and bruised, but not from fighting...only from trying to catch himself when being tossed around. They had once been strong hands, the sort perfected for artisan carpentry, and now he can barely close them for swollen knuckles.
"What happened to us?"