"It wasn't fair," He sobbed and nuzzled his face into the sharp blades of grass. "It just wasn't fair!" Vayen sunk his head into the soil and left it there, his chest heaving with pain. But of course it wasn't fair; nothing was ever fair. "Oh 'Lan, I'm so sorry. I never thought twice about this. I never thought you'd die, dearest. I never thought you'd die." He choked another painful sob into existence and just lay there, still and silent. "It's all my fault, damnit!" He pounded his fists into the ground and watched as another tear slid down the end of his nose. He had to give up; there was nothing left for him to live for. He placed one trembling hand down in front of himself to sit up, and with the other clenched the hilt of his knife. His hands were still shaking, but he had an iron grip on his knife. He held on to it rather tightly, causing his knuckles to go white as he withdrew it from its sheath. He could vaguely see himself in the silver blade, his black hair tousled and mangled, and his face quavering. His silver eyes were glued to Trevelyan's dead figure, and that was all he could concentrate on. "I loved you," He cried softly, almost as if in a whisper. "I truly did, 'Lan. I didn't think it was possible, but you broke your promise. You said you would never hurt me, but you did. You hurt me and abused me. You willingly left me in this cruel world, and now I shall die for you. You kihled yourself out of despair, and now I shall kihl myself out of love. I will join you soon, my love." There was nobody to stop him here; he was completely alone in this valley. He took the knife and watched as the gray clouds rolled passed him, thunder roaring in reply. It was raining enough to soak Vayen's black, shoulder-length hair, and hopefully enough to wash away the blood that was going to pour down his hands. He took one last look at the knife, and without any other thought he began to slash away at his wrists. One slice to slit them, and another for good measure. Shades of red slid down his wrist as he looked down at his now blood-soaked knife and gripped it as best he could, staining the hilt with crimson. He gave out what sounded like a cry of agony, but really it was something almost happy. He then tossed it away into the night and slunk over to his lover. He collapsed on his dead chest and kissed his pale lips one last time before sinking his head into the ground and whispering weakly, "I'll see you in Hell."