minim_calibreThe floor is hard and ungiving under his cheek, and his eyes close for a bare moment because he can feel himself moving ever closer to that breaking point, the place where he stops recognising himself and becomes something he's not quite sure he likes, yet. His fingers grasp uselessly at stone, and as he pushes himself up he watches her climb, and feels the place where his compassion used to be drop like a stone in a dry well.
When he looks over her shoulder, he knows he should feel a comforting thrill at the destroyed army, but much like all other things he used to define himself, his interest is weary and fading. She murmurs words that seem to stumble across her lips and he watches her leave; he follows, because that's what he's been doing all his life.
words © SA. characters, show, and people not mine. no infringement is intended.