07-21-2019, 04:44 PM
[font=trebuchet ms]/tw: mentions of death, injury, and arson
The raid was over. She wasn’t sure she could even call it a raid, really. It had been two Pittians, their leader and some random henchman of his. Once she, Killua and Tena had arrived, the battle had ended swiftly.
Yet, in a few short minutes, a piece of history had been utterly destroyed.
Rin had been able to enlist help in bandaging herself up, offering the other member only a few short words of instruction. As the bandages were applied, she studied the floor, her face stoic, numb even. Her assistant, to their credit, did not ask any questions.
Wrapped in white cloth, she exited the house and returned to her own for only enough time to pick up a book and a pen. With these in tow, she paced towards the remains of the observatory.
Coming to a stop at the edge of the ash-doused clearing, she stared at the few fallen beams and broken telescope pieces scattered about. It wasn’t as though nothing had ever existed here, an absence in the universe plain to see, but a stranger would never be able to identify the remains.
For all intents and purposes, nothing was left of the Ascendants.
She let go of the book and pen, letting them land in the dust, then opened the book to the first blank page. Taking the pen again, she began to write, as the memories crept up in her mind.
”Guess we’ll see how long it takes for the observatory to burn down.” This, in the wake of a fallen predecessor that the new leader constantly felt the shadow of. She and Bast were much more alike than either of them could have ever predicted, right down to their accidentally-accurate predictions of doom. His name, his statements, were committed to paper in neat print. He might have still been alive.
”Gonna miss that peace and quiet.” She knew this was not the sort of quiet that Moon had meant when they finally freed themselves from the locked observatory, but the eerie stillness nonetheless served as a reminder. His words arrived on the paper in a messier scrawl. He had deserved better than a death by illness, all the more ironic considering his promise as a Cleric.
”I’m home.” These words, uttered upon a dynamic entrance through the observatory doors, as Suiteheart defied death once again. She and Margaery had made a habit of spitting in the reaper’s face. Pity, Rin reflected bitterly as her writing grew less and less legible, more and more frantic, that they had decided to kick the habit when they did.
”Your records aren’t going to bring them back.”
The pen slipped from her grip, clattering onto the ground. Lacking the werewithal to retrieve it, she watched it roll away. She could feel moisture beginning to gather at the corners of her burning eyes.
Grimacing, she blinked, until she could almost pass the wetness off as an allergic reaction. Natural, not induced by any emotions that she did not have the right to feel anyway.
They weren’t coming back, no matter what she wrote or what she did. She had thought, once upon a time, that if she showed she cared enough, maybe someone would take pity on her and come back for her. It didn’t work that way. Playerone was an outlier, but most of her friends weren’t coming home ever again.
Gritting her teeth, Rin closed the book and stood up. Her purpose for existing was to kill the fallen gods. Everything else was superfluous. Once she had recovered from the gashes Jervis had torn into her side, she had to get going again. If Elysium kept distracting her, maybe she’d just have to leave.
”One step at a time,” she muttered aloud, though she did not turn to leave. Someone else might come by and ask, and though she was to prioritize the death of the gods above all else, she at least owed the Ascendants enough respect to tell that person why the observatory mattered.
/tl;dr: Rin gets patched up, comes to the observatory, and writes things
/don’t really know what this is, but w/e
The raid was over. She wasn’t sure she could even call it a raid, really. It had been two Pittians, their leader and some random henchman of his. Once she, Killua and Tena had arrived, the battle had ended swiftly.
Yet, in a few short minutes, a piece of history had been utterly destroyed.
Rin had been able to enlist help in bandaging herself up, offering the other member only a few short words of instruction. As the bandages were applied, she studied the floor, her face stoic, numb even. Her assistant, to their credit, did not ask any questions.
Wrapped in white cloth, she exited the house and returned to her own for only enough time to pick up a book and a pen. With these in tow, she paced towards the remains of the observatory.
Coming to a stop at the edge of the ash-doused clearing, she stared at the few fallen beams and broken telescope pieces scattered about. It wasn’t as though nothing had ever existed here, an absence in the universe plain to see, but a stranger would never be able to identify the remains.
For all intents and purposes, nothing was left of the Ascendants.
She let go of the book and pen, letting them land in the dust, then opened the book to the first blank page. Taking the pen again, she began to write, as the memories crept up in her mind.
”Guess we’ll see how long it takes for the observatory to burn down.” This, in the wake of a fallen predecessor that the new leader constantly felt the shadow of. She and Bast were much more alike than either of them could have ever predicted, right down to their accidentally-accurate predictions of doom. His name, his statements, were committed to paper in neat print. He might have still been alive.
”Gonna miss that peace and quiet.” She knew this was not the sort of quiet that Moon had meant when they finally freed themselves from the locked observatory, but the eerie stillness nonetheless served as a reminder. His words arrived on the paper in a messier scrawl. He had deserved better than a death by illness, all the more ironic considering his promise as a Cleric.
”I’m home.” These words, uttered upon a dynamic entrance through the observatory doors, as Suiteheart defied death once again. She and Margaery had made a habit of spitting in the reaper’s face. Pity, Rin reflected bitterly as her writing grew less and less legible, more and more frantic, that they had decided to kick the habit when they did.
”Your records aren’t going to bring them back.”
The pen slipped from her grip, clattering onto the ground. Lacking the werewithal to retrieve it, she watched it roll away. She could feel moisture beginning to gather at the corners of her burning eyes.
Grimacing, she blinked, until she could almost pass the wetness off as an allergic reaction. Natural, not induced by any emotions that she did not have the right to feel anyway.
They weren’t coming back, no matter what she wrote or what she did. She had thought, once upon a time, that if she showed she cared enough, maybe someone would take pity on her and come back for her. It didn’t work that way. Playerone was an outlier, but most of her friends weren’t coming home ever again.
Gritting her teeth, Rin closed the book and stood up. Her purpose for existing was to kill the fallen gods. Everything else was superfluous. Once she had recovered from the gashes Jervis had torn into her side, she had to get going again. If Elysium kept distracting her, maybe she’d just have to leave.
”One step at a time,” she muttered aloud, though she did not turn to leave. Someone else might come by and ask, and though she was to prioritize the death of the gods above all else, she at least owed the Ascendants enough respect to tell that person why the observatory mattered.
/tl;dr: Rin gets patched up, comes to the observatory, and writes things
/don’t really know what this is, but w/e
tags (06/13/20):
![[Image: 0WDI26E.jpg]](https://i.imgur.com/0WDI26E.jpg)