#[ will put the read more later bc i don't have my laptop rn owo]

[altrxisme]

RIP

Send “RIP” and I’ll write a drabble of my Muse dying.— have a Jackson!

While the Prince and his retinue were in Altissia, a some of the Crownsguards were sent to infiltrate Tenebrae to lend some assistance as there were whispers of an attack happening there. Their numbers may be thin, but Jackson insisted in leading a team to look into it. He pulled out every single reason he could think of to justify it, and eventually one had finally landed that had the other Guards reconsider.

The sheer force of the attack was worse than they had anticipated and for once, Jackson was thankful for the small group they had as opposed to the larger number of Guards he originally had in mind. The burning of the Manor itself brought back memories he thought he'd long gone past. Childhood memories relived by the screams of people and the growl of daemons; his shoulder ached from the reminder of when he nearly met the Astrals.

Another explosion brought him back to where he was, his cover nearly obliterated by the machine he'd been hiding from. It was a feat that he'd survived that long whilst lost in the memories of the past. Jackson was quick to run for more cover, shots grazed him and he hissed from the sting, barely anytime to take care of them.

The others did their best to evacuate the rest of the Tenebraen residents alongside Aranea's forces, surprised that she had renounced Niflheim despite her long standing service to them. Still, they'd heard that she had assisted the Prince some time ago and she seemed like someone who's been waiting to leave the Empire.

At least they were in good hands.

Fatigue plagued him and he could feel it in his bones. He shut his eyes for a moment, trying to will himself to get back onto the train with the others but there was something keeping him from moving.

Maybe... Maybe coming back to what was once home was all he wanted.

Jackson's brows furrowed as he opened his eyes, reloading his gun. No. That couldn't be it. He didn't want to die there. He had so many things to do. His family was waiting for him. There were people that needed him.

The Crownsguard picked up his gun and made his way to the train, dodging shots made for him. He had gone farther than what was planned, the need to sweep the place and make sure everyone was accounted for simply too strong for him to ignore. The price was that his communicator lost signal and he had nothing but himself to rely on.

Just a little more and his communicator should—

Bang!Bang!Bang!

Jackson gasped and fell on the ground hard, his gun spun far out of reach and he curled in on himself. He could feel the blood rush into his lungs while another different bullet wound spilled it. His body seized in pain and he struggled between wanting it to stop and letting the release of it take him away.

Help. His eyes fought to stay open, a blur of dark and silver glinted in the remaining daylight. Someone. He couldn't get up, the pain was too much and his body wanted rest. The barrels of the machine's gun pointed directly at him.

Someone help me, please. I don't want ta die.

#swordofthreekings #death tw #[ will put the read more later bc i don't have my laptop rn owo] #[ time just caught up to him] #[he's tired and war doesn't care who it takes] #; drabble #v: ffxv ; dulce et decorum est