Oblivion's hourglass eyes slightly widened at the sight of the storm of ice plummeting to him. There were too many, too large to block them all with void portals.

Still, he activated as many as he could to shield himself from the ice. For the remainder of the storm, he weaved and dodged and spun away from Echo as icicle rained around him, however, he wasn't able to dodge them all, plenty cut and nicked him on the arms and legs, he seemingly gritted in pain. One stuck right through his lower leg, a smaller one in his shoulder, and one .through his side. But it didn't stop him.

((Bruh this kinda sad ngl))

Oblivion coughed a bit, sniffled and rubbed his nose with his good arm, and then limped over to Echo, "Anything you wanna say?" He asked, "Maybe say goodbye." He flexed his fingers, shadows slowly creeping on his hands.

Oblivion simply stared back and plunged his blade into Echo's heart. 

(F)

Echo was still, not even a flinch. She just let it happen, accepted it, and waited. Yes, it was painful, but Echo was used to being in pain. Echo closed her eyes, almost looking peaceful, but if you studied her face quite carefully, you would notice a slight melancholy expression had surfaced. Maybe it was worry, worry and saddness from all of this, maybe worry and saddness towards Germaine. Guilt...Guilt for being selfish in all this, for not following to what Germaine had told her to do, and for wanting to kill Oblivion. In the end, Echo only made everything worst... she was good at that. Make everything worst then either feel sorry for herself or for everybody else around her. This time, Echo failed, but Echo accepted this fate, accepted death, and although in pain, she didn't scream when Oblivion gave the final wound. Echo let herself relax, and then she went to sleep.

Echo looked peaceful, snowflakes scattered in her dark hair and on her face. Soon enough, the remaining emotions drained from her expression and died along with her. At last, Echo stopped breathing, and she was gone.

Rose petals, beautiful red petals started to swirl around in the air around everybody. There was the sound of softening footsteps that receded to a stop. More petals took flight along with full grown, wonderful roses, the smell of the flowers wafting around.

Alma was crying upon the realization that he was too late, not quite fast enough to stop Oblivion. Tears fell from his eyes as he threw his leather jacket to the side, cold air making a chill go down his spine. He didn't hate Oblivion, he didn't have hate at all. He wasn't made to be able to feel hate, but he wasn't going to let anything else happen.

"...Step away from her. Leave," Alma sighed, taking out his pocket knife, putting the tip against his own arm, near his shoulder. The metal was freezing cold as well, another chill went through his body from the touch of it. Alma wasn't used to this cold weather, and his black tank top wasn't much warm, but his defensive and offensive abilities didn't give him much a choice if he had to use them.

"I'm not here to fight, and I would rather not do so. You've kill enough today, Oblivion."

The wind was a gossip, sometimes helpful, which is why Alma was here. It decided to speak up about the two deities fighting, and Alma already knew that it wouldn't be good... but... he wasn't expecting to see Echo's lifeless body on the ground and Germaine to be passed out over yonder. Alma already quickly decided to take Germaine and Echo somewhere else so he could wake up Germaine and do something about Echo... He wasn't sure what he could do other than hold a funeral for the teen deity, but he needed to bring both of them away from Oblivion. Of course, Alma was a bit unprepared for this, but he was also in a rush so it couldn't be helped. Alma felt slightly sick, grief taking it's place, but he didn't have time to mourn. He needed to help and stop another death from happening, and Alma was going to do so.

Alma's eye had tinted into a stunning bright pink, and he looked to be prepared for whatever Oblivion would do. He looked serious, stern even, but there was no mistaking the great saddness in his visible eye. There was also no mistaking that there was more to Alma than his pretty looks, and that pocket knife was certainly aimed to make a self-infliction in his arm, suspiciously. Whatever Oblivion was about to do, it was certain that Alma had already made a choice to counter and balance Oblivion's action out.

"We were like family," Alma corrected. "I don't appriciate a family member being killed, but... I cannot hate you. I refuse to hate anybody and grant them the satisfactory of being hated. I don't wish a fight, but I want you to leave. You have done enough today, I believe. At least have some dignity to let me bury a family member and take a survivor. There are better things for you to do." Alma looked up and down at Oblivion, taking notes of his injuries.

"It would be shameful for you to fight wounded."

"There is always something better to do than killing," Alma said, keeping his eyes on the deity closely, watching for any hint of an attack. "That's how I know."

Alma breathed slowly, then said, "What you should do is rest and rethink this whole killing thing over. All you do is waste the time of your life away by taking away everyone else's lives. That's... sad, to do so." Alma was slowly walking towards Germaine's direction, his pink eyes still on Oblivion and his knife still pressed on his arm.

"It's saddening to know that you wasted precious time in your life just to end another... such beauty of life wasted and rotted now... for both of you."

Alma was now going to ramble, make it seem like he was going to lead the conversation somewhere when in reality the sentences would be reworded and repeated until there would be confusion or a new topic appeared.

"Eventually we will all rot away like leaves in the fall, but what purpose and reward is there to bring the season faster? Why not enjoy the delight of the leaves and greenery instead of wasting your life with unrealistic plastic all around?"

Alma ignored the last part of the comment. Yes, he had multiple family members dead, but it wasn't his time to go. Not yet.

"I'm saying that you're going to regret your wasteful actions someday," Alma spoke slowly, trying to pick words. He wasn't doing very good, and Alma was most definatly sure of it. He slowly made a deep cut in his arm, flicking some of his blood to the ground. He switched hands and did the same thing to the other arm, but even slower.

"You're going to end up at the start, but you'll be alone and worst than you started off. I don't know exactly why you do this..."

Yeah, the wind decided to not give him much of information on Oblivion, so Alma had to play a guessing game.

"...But it's going to hurt you someday."

His eyes flicked over to Echo for a second, already knowing why she had attempted to fight Oblivion. This time, though, her actions turned on her, didn't it?

Alma breathed in slowly, controlling his breathing as he flicked more of his blood on the ground. He was near Germaine now, but he had stopped. He was close enough to flick some droplets in front of her, which he did, and then he started to move away, still taking slow steps.

((What happened with Germaine?))

"Are you really going to fight me?" He asked, "You realize you're going to die? Don't you?" He stared at the blood drops, and back up to Alma. Oblivion decided to activate the umbraspears on his back again.

((Where did she go doe?))

Oblivion wanted to stab and tear at Alma, but something made him stay in place so he just stared.

((Dw, he's still gonna attack))

Alma's last comment to him as he was walking away seemed to snap him out of staring, and when Alma was walking away (and possibly her back to him), he decided to thrust a umbraspear for Alma's back.

Oblivion advanced a few steps and sent another umbraspear to tare through the vines.

"Oh, you want me to leave? Leave you? Only to come back and kill you later?" Oblivion asks.

He sends his last umbraspear for Alma as the other two returned. He made sure this one was more powered and able to break through more vines.

"What's wrong with adding another to the count?" He asked, "There's already so many."

He fired the two umbraspears that returned to him like a cannon, and as hard as the other two. Keeping a constant onslaught on Alma's vines as the other umbraspear returned.