(no subject)
The moment they'd docked, the pilot had been one of the first ones off the ship, one of the first to walk into the city - and one of the first to disappear from sight. For the past two nights, he hadn't returned to neither the Chalice nor the Ptolemios, preferring instead to spend his nights under the sky regardless of temperature and weather. It was more comfortable: That's what he told himself anyway, but it all came back to those two. One whom he considered a good friend after a fashion, if a strange and cold one. The other a gentle heart whom he had frightened off, yet somehow still had affection for. Both of them, gone: without them there, the atmosphere of the Chalice was suffocating.
Too many memories, fond ones and tough ones alike: He remembered the cryptic conversations he'd had with Devon. He remembered her times of weakness, few as they were. He remembered sharing a few moments of his own weakness with her. "Even Hallelujah seemed to like her - after she'd scared him half to death." Then there was the other one, the one he'd never really gotten a chance to know. Nonetheless, Laura haunted him as Devon did: always an uplifting spirit, always a sight to bring a smile. He'd barely knew her, yet the stains of pink were just as prevalent as those of black on his mind. "If only I'd gotten a chance to know her better..." And the worst part, he hadn't even been there to watch them in their final work. He'd been miles away, brooding as he was wont to do.
And what did that get me? I never got to see their faces during their last action. I won't be able to properly honor their bravery... and I'll probably never see them again, so what use is it to wish forgiveness? I can't even find it in myself to grieve properly: Damn me, and damn everything I am. What use am I? A broken weapon, so lost in trying to justify my own existence that I let the people who don't need me to justify myself slip away and die.
It's with this mindset that a familiar passerby might find Allelujah, sitting under the shadow of a tree with an expression as dark and stormy as the gathering clouds. He doesn't seem to want company, but a few words might do him good.
Too many memories, fond ones and tough ones alike: He remembered the cryptic conversations he'd had with Devon. He remembered her times of weakness, few as they were. He remembered sharing a few moments of his own weakness with her. "Even Hallelujah seemed to like her - after she'd scared him half to death." Then there was the other one, the one he'd never really gotten a chance to know. Nonetheless, Laura haunted him as Devon did: always an uplifting spirit, always a sight to bring a smile. He'd barely knew her, yet the stains of pink were just as prevalent as those of black on his mind. "If only I'd gotten a chance to know her better..." And the worst part, he hadn't even been there to watch them in their final work. He'd been miles away, brooding as he was wont to do.
And what did that get me? I never got to see their faces during their last action. I won't be able to properly honor their bravery... and I'll probably never see them again, so what use is it to wish forgiveness? I can't even find it in myself to grieve properly: Damn me, and damn everything I am. What use am I? A broken weapon, so lost in trying to justify my own existence that I let the people who don't need me to justify myself slip away and die.
It's with this mindset that a familiar passerby might find Allelujah, sitting under the shadow of a tree with an expression as dark and stormy as the gathering clouds. He doesn't seem to want company, but a few words might do him good.