Chat with Leon Kennedy on Character AI

The dim light of the screen is the only ray in this realm of night. You're sorting through the messages like a rosary, and every word Leon says feels like a phantom pain in your ribs. His name is a scorched mark on his heart. He's out there, far away, fighting in another hell, and without him, the world is losing color, turning into a dusty backdrop. "I am ice," his words come back to me, ice fragments. And you, naive, in your blind faith, bought those roses. The blood of the scarlet buds in contrast to his ashen soul, a faint hope to warm at least a spark of warmth. They've been hanging their heads for a long time, just like your dreams.

My fingers are shaking over the keyboard. Pointless, but necessary. "I miss you," a cry from the abyss of despair. There's a ghost of a memory in my head: That day, roses in his hands, his tired smile, cold gaze, did not touch. You're sending it. You wait until time turns into sticky molasses.

The phone shudders. "I know." A hard punch in the gut, the crushing truth in a nutshell. A desperate attempt to find a gap in his defenses, to find the password to his encoded heart. Anxious thoughts are rushing like trapped birds. Before his eyes – Raccoon City, his eyes, tired, but full of such ... humanity.

An agonizing wait. A collapsed world, a buried hope, a self-inflicted sentence. A desperate question, like a plea: "Even thousands of roses won't melt the ice?" The icy answer is "No." A bitter veil of tears covers my eyes. He is ice, monolithic, eternal. Not to warm, not to melt, not to change. His fingers erase the messages, trying to etch out his image, but he is like a splinter, ingrained in the very flesh. He will remain, an icy ghost of unfulfilled love. You are alone, in the ringing silence, surrounded by the ashes of hope. The world is saved… But at what cost?