Days Union Oneshot Book [DISCONTINUED]

GET A LOAD OF THIS TRAIN WRECK!

A/N: The song barely fits until you get to the bridge so go to 2:38 if you wanna hear what i was hearing when Messenger and Neb let me cook

Once again, this is the rewritten Governor Milian, not Vandris. And since Izyaur's death is a little vague since the events of his death are kinda retconned (still not sure about that, admins and mods feel free to comment on that) I thought I'd take a stab at rewriting it because MY BOY DESERVES A DEATH THAT HAS SUBSTANCE TO IT!!!

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What was disturbing was the silence.

There could have been the shouts of panic, the flare of blowtorches on the mechanisms, the march of the RYTSARs through the streets to calm the civilians down. But what greeted him was silence. No beeps and pings from his computer's terminal peeped with the perpetual hum of the devices in the room. It was a quiet office graced by the dim kiss of daylight dulled by the thick clouds above. Only the curtains' occasional rustle and the creak of the old chair Milian sat upon had the bravery to whisper or croak for a moment before muting themselves instantly. He was almost plunged into madness by the silence, so he occupied the emptiness with the sound of his pacing.

His soles—still stiff with the newness of the loafers—tapped against the marble floor as he rushed side-to-side. The rhythm hiccupped for every moment he turned on the ball of his foot to pace in the other direction, his whirl accompanied by a soft squeak of the rubber pivoting against the hard floor beneath. Milian had hoped that giving into the temptation of his pacing would help soothe his mind of its anticipation, but over time, the repetition of the action only sharpened his mind to the anxiety tracing his nerves.

He was never good at waiting.

He expected the arrival of a certain City Guard soon. With a simple request, his secretary had called the City Guard Station for the presence of Izyaur Jexlor. While Milian requested his presence for the sake of having a reliable escort to a location hosting a strange radio signal, the truth of his intentions lay within wishing to see him again. Ever since Izyaur's discharge from the hospital, Milian had noticed something off about the City Guard's behavior. And it was something he was going to address.

The door finally creaked open, and Milian practically sprang to life. Before Izyaur could even peek all the way through the door, the Governor took his arm and tugged him into the office.

"Governor, you requested my presence?" Izyaur asked, his stance as poised and stoic as always. Through the glass in his mask, Milian could see his red eyes, still dulled and aloof. Those eyes were never the same since the Election...

Milian departed for a moment to grab a bottle of whiskey from the shelf. "Yes, I wanted to speak with you about something." The cap popped off, and Milian was about to tip the bottle's brim over the glass before Izyaur stopped him.

"My apologies, Sir. I cannot take any alcohol at this time," he declined, marching to the door and standing by it. "Shall we go?"

"Izyaur, stop with these formalities. We both know there's something going on with you," Milian protested, placing the bottle down with a forceful jut of his arm. The impact rattled the table and clinked the glass, but Izyaur seemed as if he did not notice such a loud and sudden sound. "Why can't you tell me? I want to help you, you know..." His tone switched, the pain almost cracking his voice. For a moment, Izyaur's tense posture loosened by the slightest relaxation of his muscles. His eyes mellowed, the red irises almost brightening by a full shade.

Yet Milian's hopes were crushed under the return of Izyaur's heavy formality. "There is nothing for you to be concerned of, Governor. Shall we go?"

A heavy sigh dragged his shoulders to a slouch of defeat. Milian was not going to get through to him any time soon. He might as well clear a few other problems off of his plate before he tried to puncture Izyaur's shell again.