Melody No. 12 ~ Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
(Edited because derp.)
[The house that stands at 5720 Cunningham Lane sustained extensive damage when the hazmats broke in the night before. Though the house still stands, it is clear from the hacked-down door that something has gone wrong. Within, furniture is toppled over and in various states of violent disrepair. Couches and tables are overturned, glass windows and mirrors are shattered, and the doors to the kitchen and upstairs bedrooms have been broken down. The particular bedroom where Garnet is currently waking, however, bears the scars of a struggle and a funeral pyre.
What Garnet will eventually discover is that all residents of the home were caught in the hazmat attack, and that none of them survived it.
The numbing sensation that overwhelmed the agony of being burned alive makes Garnet's first breaths lethargic. She had wished for death's mercy this time - which she received in the form of an axe blade to the head - and the sentiment remains as she regains her senses. With the men in suits roaming the town and killing with no rhyme or reason, she cannot will herself to move, and would rather lay upon her bed and wait to be found; whether by friend or foe, it no longer mattered.
She is too apathetic to be thankful or surprised that her flesh is once more unblemished, without a blister, or notice that she's breathing soot, because nothing could be worse than inhaling the poison gas the hazmats give off. She wonders if Bahamut survived. He had taken countless blows from the mens' axes before they turned the flamethrowers on him, and no matter how many he destroyed (after a while the acid cloud that burst from their suits became constant) they were almost instantly replaced. The dragon king was mutilated beyond recognition before Garnet could dismiss him, and his dark blood still stains the walls and carpet.
For the longest time, the queen can't bring herself to so much as reach for the phone on the nightstand. Words, like everything, seem to have lost their meaning after all that has happened over the past couple of days.
Some time later, Garnet gets a hold of herself and picks up the receiver, which is curiously undamaged, and wills herself to sound stronger than she feels.]
(Filtered from the usual suspects.)
The men in suits have become more violent in their search for Sergei Smirnov. Last night, they all but burnt my home to the ground, and murdered my family and me. I suspect that our house was not the only one broken into.
We cannot allow them to continue slaughtering us. We stand more of a chance against them if we stand together...There must be somewhere we can go for protection.
(Filtered to Jecht, Zidane, and Dias.)
Please be alive...
[The house that stands at 5720 Cunningham Lane sustained extensive damage when the hazmats broke in the night before. Though the house still stands, it is clear from the hacked-down door that something has gone wrong. Within, furniture is toppled over and in various states of violent disrepair. Couches and tables are overturned, glass windows and mirrors are shattered, and the doors to the kitchen and upstairs bedrooms have been broken down. The particular bedroom where Garnet is currently waking, however, bears the scars of a struggle and a funeral pyre.
What Garnet will eventually discover is that all residents of the home were caught in the hazmat attack, and that none of them survived it.
The numbing sensation that overwhelmed the agony of being burned alive makes Garnet's first breaths lethargic. She had wished for death's mercy this time - which she received in the form of an axe blade to the head - and the sentiment remains as she regains her senses. With the men in suits roaming the town and killing with no rhyme or reason, she cannot will herself to move, and would rather lay upon her bed and wait to be found; whether by friend or foe, it no longer mattered.
She is too apathetic to be thankful or surprised that her flesh is once more unblemished, without a blister, or notice that she's breathing soot, because nothing could be worse than inhaling the poison gas the hazmats give off. She wonders if Bahamut survived. He had taken countless blows from the mens' axes before they turned the flamethrowers on him, and no matter how many he destroyed (after a while the acid cloud that burst from their suits became constant) they were almost instantly replaced. The dragon king was mutilated beyond recognition before Garnet could dismiss him, and his dark blood still stains the walls and carpet.
For the longest time, the queen can't bring herself to so much as reach for the phone on the nightstand. Words, like everything, seem to have lost their meaning after all that has happened over the past couple of days.
Some time later, Garnet gets a hold of herself and picks up the receiver, which is curiously undamaged, and wills herself to sound stronger than she feels.]
(Filtered from the usual suspects.)
The men in suits have become more violent in their search for Sergei Smirnov. Last night, they all but burnt my home to the ground, and murdered my family and me. I suspect that our house was not the only one broken into.
We cannot allow them to continue slaughtering us. We stand more of a chance against them if we stand together...There must be somewhere we can go for protection.
(Filtered to Jecht, Zidane, and Dias.)
Please be alive...