08-01-2016, 05:27 PM
ROMEK
The Deserts were gone.
Buried beneath water and who knows what else. It sounds like it shouldn’t be true. He wishes it weren’t true. The dunes, the oases, the caves…everything. Drowned. Memories washed away, like sand in the wind. He would never return there. Would never feel the sun on his back. And Vanquish? Yael? All the children? Did they all escape in time? Even if they did, they haunt him. He can barely sleep without their silhouettes in the back of his head. He couldn’t escape the feeling that perhaps he should be there too, in a watery, sandy grave.
But there must’ve been a reason why he went to the Field, there must’ve been a reason that Mari decided to take him home. Here he has found the purpose he was lacking his entire life; where he was free of expectations, where he could work as he pleased and not worry about letting anyone down – because he had no-one to let down but himself.
He had friends for the first time in a long time. It felt good.
A voice startles him out of his thoughts. He looks up, and it belongs to the King, his King. Offspring, his coat criss crossed in scars which spoke of age and experience – certainly more so than Romek’s own scars, war-gotten (because no-one really gains anything from a war), telling of his age.
”I may have heard of you once or twice,” he says, with a steady smile. King of the Tundra. Mari’s father. He’s not really sure which of these titles are the most important anymore.
”It’s alright, Offspring. Fortunately I have passed the time of my life where I need constant praise for my actions. Once a month will do me just fine.” he says, with the kind of humour he hadn’t really had before coming here. ”But with all seriousness, your kingdom is very busy, it is not surprising that you have not had time before. All is well.”
He pauses, and looks around them, at the warming Tundra. Still cold, but less so. Melting slowly. Puddles of water.
”Do you know if Vanquish made it out of the Deserts before it flooded?” he asks, looking towards his King. He had to know.
Buried beneath water and who knows what else. It sounds like it shouldn’t be true. He wishes it weren’t true. The dunes, the oases, the caves…everything. Drowned. Memories washed away, like sand in the wind. He would never return there. Would never feel the sun on his back. And Vanquish? Yael? All the children? Did they all escape in time? Even if they did, they haunt him. He can barely sleep without their silhouettes in the back of his head. He couldn’t escape the feeling that perhaps he should be there too, in a watery, sandy grave.
But there must’ve been a reason why he went to the Field, there must’ve been a reason that Mari decided to take him home. Here he has found the purpose he was lacking his entire life; where he was free of expectations, where he could work as he pleased and not worry about letting anyone down – because he had no-one to let down but himself.
He had friends for the first time in a long time. It felt good.
A voice startles him out of his thoughts. He looks up, and it belongs to the King, his King. Offspring, his coat criss crossed in scars which spoke of age and experience – certainly more so than Romek’s own scars, war-gotten (because no-one really gains anything from a war), telling of his age.
”I may have heard of you once or twice,” he says, with a steady smile. King of the Tundra. Mari’s father. He’s not really sure which of these titles are the most important anymore.
”It’s alright, Offspring. Fortunately I have passed the time of my life where I need constant praise for my actions. Once a month will do me just fine.” he says, with the kind of humour he hadn’t really had before coming here. ”But with all seriousness, your kingdom is very busy, it is not surprising that you have not had time before. All is well.”
He pauses, and looks around them, at the warming Tundra. Still cold, but less so. Melting slowly. Puddles of water.
”Do you know if Vanquish made it out of the Deserts before it flooded?” he asks, looking towards his King. He had to know.
fuck all your dreams, they’re not all they seem