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Jolyne sunk within the cold arms of the sea. Tide a whipping froth above her, frosted window, foggy glow beyond of the endless, streaking sun. She could almost make out the constellations zipping dizzily-- or maybe it was just the waves, torn so fast they blended into a smoothed, seaglass foam-- like a delayed-action picture. All to fuzz.
Her lips parted for an aching breath-- desperate, even in the end of things. Even now. As if there were any air still left to take. She might've met the seafloor by now but it was cold, so cold. From her heart to her fingers, she couldn't feel anything but the bite. As if the ocean ate at her with every current. Soon, she would be gone.
Time arced into an infinity. The sunlight faded. Maybe the whole world crumbled before it. Jolyne wasn't sure if her eyes were open or closed. She might've trembled. But when the tension in her veins finally melted, it washed her with a weary peace. Nowhere else to go. No fight. She felt the sundrenched warmth of memory overtake her, felt suddenly like a baby again. Cradled in her father's arms, whole world in his fuzzy, smiling face. Safe. She felt safe.
Jolyne died alone at sea.
Jonathan didn't know whether the fire would take him first. It was suffocating, a heat that weighed upon his shoulders, filled his body from the inside out. But the seawater lapped at his ankles, and the smoke consumed his veins-- trapped between three worlds. His mind struggled to reach for some symbolism within it all, fragments of archaeological study evading his grasping fingers. Maybe it meant nothing. But then, that was too haunting to bear.
A rupture on the far wall sent a spewing jet of frothy water-- the fire began to douse. Sea. He could live with the sea. All things considered, it seemed rather pleasant.
Dio was writhing in his arms, and every shift sent a burning, throbbing, aching through the places he'd been pierced, but it came as a heartbeat cry: Live, live, live! And his heart sailed with Erina, over the waves, under the blazing sun, to a future he knew would stretch on forever. Live, Erina. He knew that she would live.
And he couldn't fear death, when it came to it. Not with the peace that it would bring. Dio was gone and now Erina-- her children, her grandchildren, so on and on --would never know fear. He was happy. To carry that burden for them, it filled him with immeasurable peace.
He sunk below the waves. But maybe he was dead already. Alone, in the end, in the cold arms of the sea.