About endings, and their tendency to turn into beginnings.
In a room made with celestial bronze and insulation, two creatures look out into the distance, one stands tall, many hands clasped behind their back, the other sits on a couch, the only thing other than the window in this room to not be colored ochre. The color is so non-Galra that it brings a surprising amount of comfort to both beings.
Four pairs of eyes move up to their standing companion.
"It is very rare that fate divides itself in two"
The creature nods, but doesn't look away from the window.
"I was relieved to see it was this reality that had passed"
The sitting creature makes a melodic sort of hiss.
"I wasn't allowed to view the other, would you tell me what happened?"
The other seems to ponder for a second before they speak again.
"They barely won the game, their penalty the life of one of them, they were left in disarray, their bonds fraying until nothing was left"
The one sitting intertwines their clawed fingers.
"And Voltron gone"
The one standing nods solemnly.
"And Voltron gone"
There are four people on Akira's room, closest to his bed, Krolia and Koráki, closer to the door Kolvian and Di Angelo, all four having a conversation in rapid Galra vs Ancient Greek, languages similar enough that nothing goes misunderstood, but Akira's head is still pounding.
"Maybe in English for the guy with the headache"
They all turn to him, and there's something disorienting about seeing worry on Di Angelo; Akira doesn't know what to make of it.
"Take it slow chico, you've been down for a few days"
That explains the headache Akira's pretty sure, Koráki and Krolia have bracketed around his bed, but only Koráki is making contact, keeping him laying down, though Akira doesn't think he has the strength to move.
"What happened?"
There's rapid head movement just outside his field of vision, before Di Angelo takes a step forward, and when their eyes meet Akira sees something startingly similar.
"You won the war"
It feels like those words are picked specifically, like they mean more than what they seem to, and Akira feels something tickle his cheek, and oh... he's crying.
Aftermath is a tough word to swallow, it carries with it the weight of mistakes and loses, the heaviness of time gone and changes made. But healing is never easy.
Earth was not as damaged as it could've been, but it still was, the world now aware of the side that was always meant to stay in the shadows. There're still things to repair, to mourn, to fix, but the planet has a long history of recuperation, if nothing else.
Earth focuses their efforts outwards, towards the millions of planets that don't have that luxury, and humanity reaches out to the universe, and it reaches back for the very first time. Time is now on their side, and with the blades and the coalition backing them up, this is no longer an impossible.
The task ahead of them is colossal, and intimidating.
And yet it seems menial in comparison to this moment right here.
YOU ARE READING
Collecting the shards
Fanfiction"Names have power" The words have become a prayer in their nature, if only for how Akira has used them since learning them. He receives a smile for his efforts, which is more than he probably deserves. {or, how the butterfly effect feeds into the...
