Lake Rodney death and burial were locked up in my chest [m - gore]

A brief interlude of silence, of drifting, of wet and cold, and then a piece of wood is wedged beneath his face, lifting it clear of the water. Tendrils of water drip from his nostrils - he didn't realize he had been sinking in to the lake like that, but now he was breathing better. Perhaps not smoother. It didn't matter. Whatever happened, he was likely to die here and now. But someone was here, he knew that. He could feel them working on his body, tinkering, pulling debris free, while he floated and tried to remain awake. Lazarus slipped in and out - he felt the cold of the lake and as it seeped in to him, he thought maybe this was the end. Maybe he was imagining things. Maybe instead of someone piecing him back together, they were pulling him apart.

You have to hold on, a voice - he heard it - not clear, nowhere near him really, drifting, but there. He gulped a breath and opened his eyes in to slits, and their golden sheen had dulled by all of his recent exersion. He saw a figure (or thought he did), but it was unfamiliar. It wasn't the boy king, it wasn't Amekaze, it was nobody - perhaps his imagination. Maybe it was the reaper? The beast sputtered softly as the lake water slipped over the chunk of wood and soaked his face.

Hnn, he moaned, and drifted, and waited for death. But death would not come for him yet. He would suffer first - because of his own desire to live, maybe, or as penance for what he'd done, but Lazarus did not consider his sins to be sins at all. He thought of Amekaze, focused on the image of her beneath him, and he knew that she would get him through this. Caahzn.. he murmured, Mmn.. Cahhnzm... but he was drifting too far, fading, and fell unconcious without making any sense at all.