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month chat rogue 2 1 3
For how long has this city held?
A few days? A week? Or a month?
Desperation continues to grow, but the people continue to dwindle.
The team that went out for reconnaissance was unable to return. The communication equipment they used was brought back by a dying inquisitor, their last report stored within the broken-down machine. At the end of the recording is a brief and peaceful farewell.
His companions had drawn their last breath fighting against the Seaborn. The soldiers fell into a swarm of Sea Terrors. The medic exhausted the last bit of his energy staining a tool for healing with the blood of his enemies.
The guards responsible for holding the line boldly erected barriers so the people could retreat, barely holding back the Sea Terrors and Seaborn until the town could stand no longer, their still-running equipment buzzing defiantly until it too finally ceased.
But Thorns still remains here, striding forward as everything else recedes, cutting through the lines of people evacuating inland like a countercurrent rushing out to sea.
The Ægir stands alone on the coast, a fluorescent reagent resting in his hand.
When he made this potion, he knew he would have to use it one day.
As for where its raw ingredients came from and how they were processed, only Thorns, who had cut through the overgrown body of his transfigured mentor, knows.
Is it green? Or is it blue?
Who can say for sure what the color of the sea is? Thorns cannot, but he knows one thing well – he will come to embrace it.
He is the sole human here. Countless progeny of the sea surround him, but do not attack. They considerately allow him a moment to himself.
No matter if right and wrong have been turned inside-out, no matter how the truth is interpreted, Thorns has made up his mind.
He must come to understand what has always been calling out to him. He needs to know that which can no longer be hidden.
He needs to know: when he becomes one with them, will he still be able to wound the sea itself?
This is a quandary that has never ceased to plague his thoughts. Every day in which he still does not understand is a day he will spend continuing his search.
Thorns has always been searching for this answer.
He is confident in himself, and believes that even if his consciousness is washed away, he will still remain clear-minded.
He has also considered the possibility that even if he loses this gamble... the Doctor knows exactly what his weaknesses are. As long as the Doctor exists, everything can still be resolved.
There is nothing holding him back anymore.
At this moment, all he needs to do is follow through on his own thoughts and decisions.
The self-aware Ægir presses down on the far end of the potion.
And slowly pushes his homeland into his body.
