[ The original text post can be found here: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/33537964/ ]

He was driving through the busy inner streets of Kúri; Vaykir, in his little tin can of a Helsonian car that he could afford. The day was so warm, that for a Fals it was impossible to focus on anything else than whatever one was doing at that very moment. Luuveg was sitting next to him, his witty and engaging wife; and not to mention, very beautiful. Despite the hostile climate both literally and figuratively, life had treated them reasonably well – he had a job as a lawyer that paid well, although he sometimes wondered if he was but a mascot, what with him being the son of the Fals Emperor. Because, being what you are, having you employed would certainly make the company more reputable or even renowned, or some such thing. Luuveg was an intern at another legal job, with the prospect of a contract at the end of it. Within a month or two, they would have a family of their own. The future is… good enough.

The traffic lights were out, again. It was becoming frustrating after a week. One could wonder how this newly ex-communist city manages to function at all. When the bus next to him started moving, Vaykir did so as well. Sadly he could not see through the bus from his moving glorified stapler that had a height little more than that of a desk, but as the bus driver could, he presumed that the man knew what he was doing. But instead, the driver then stamped on the brakes, which Vaykir did not notice. Instead, he kept on rolling to the other side of the intersection, where they were supposed to go to the only Fals diner in town.

They only heard the police car's sirens for a second or less, before the wailing projectile blasted itself into their right side, where he was sitting. Everything turned violently for an instant, and then, there was blackness.

Vaykir came to when the sound of dozens of shouting people surrounded his car, which was now little more than a compressed and upside-down wreck. Everything on and around him as well was covered in blood, though it was not Luuveg's, for she was nowhere to be found. "We're lifting the car, crawl out on three!" came there from the outside, and then they counted down, and on three the creaking wreck lifted off the ground. Vaykir struggled his way out of the car and stood up on both legs, trembling involuntarily. He was weak, it was unusual. His face was expressionless, unprepared; to him it felt like time itself had been flipped on its head. The Terminians took a step back in shock when they laid their eyes upon him: Indeed, his face was as if had been painted with blood. But that was not the worst thing, because deep cuts marred his entire chest, and his left shoulder and arm had received the same brutal harm. The skin and subcutaneous fat were literally splayed open, acting almost as a drainage canal for the almost vulgar amount of blood pouring out onto everything he happened to be near. Bits of metal and glass, even concrete were embedded in his skin, though he did not notice. "Where the- well, is, where- Luuveg?" Vaykir could muster in shock through his laboured breathing, but it was so difficult, as the felt as if the air was simply made of syrup. He turned a few circles before seeing that another group of Terminians had gathered around Luuveg, some twenty odd yards away, and were touching her. Vaykir began staggering toward his wife, but as though the group didn't notice he wasn't stopped by anyone – aside from avoiding touching his bloody figure, and making sure he was not hindered in his passage, they were almost more interested in the wreck.

Almost there, he fell to his knees in exhaustion and crawled the rest of the way. The people moved back from them, since they already knew of her fate. But he took her head anyway, and called her name, twice, three times, many times; but he was met only with silence, and every single time he called her name, his voice involuntarily became more desperate. "Luuveg? Luuveg?!" She sat there, and in all fairness, it wasn't even much of a scene, a passerby could think she had simply fainted. In reality, she had been thrown out of the vehicle, against a concrete wall at great speed, but how could he have known? Yes, there was some dust on her, and some scratches and bruises, but no lacerations or horrifically broken limbs like he could imagine. But it was becoming clearer to him by the breath what had really happened, and then it was as if the entire world realigned itself as brutally as it possible could have to play this trick on him, and as if Eel himself was looking from somewhere within the crowd, whispering the curse right there and then: "How foolish to think life will be well for you, that you think you are invulnerable, as you always have. You child. Suffer like all men."

Finally, his surrender was ultimate: He sat there next to her, clutching her in his bleeding arms and pulling the top of her head against his lips with his shaking, bloody hands. The absolute desperation that marked his face radiated from his eyes with great intensity; indeed, it was the flames of his dreams and all his hopes burning to ashes within him. Quickly enough, it became too difficult to breathe, and then, he passed out.

==

Imagine starring  Coriault!