the garden within the wasteland

ACT 2, PART 1

The sun began to shine again. a draft of a poor light beam that illuminated a path out of the grasp of sleep. The pain scarred deep into their physiques. But without a physical scratch to support it, the sounds of the fire have long been silenced, either by the swift wind or by the lack of sustenance; all had long disappeared around them, and nothing was there to keep them in a lullaby for a second longer.

Mary's eyes were the first to open but the last to remember.

brush began to reclaim hold of his senses. Staring and glaring at the surrounding area, only fragments plague his memories.

Ereo was quick to stand up.

"The knight," he mumbled to himself. He faced the wind as he stretched his half-asleep body. His face is starting to reconstruct with hatred, with no false symbols to hide it.

Mary began to idly walk around, awaiting the calmness of her sleep to disappear. She began to appreciate the following battlefield: the scorched earth that spoke of the victors of the battle and the burnt houses and buildings conveying what the victims had lost. the blood to convey where the losers had fallen and the history it spoke of.

Her steps halted as her hand grasped around her broken blade. That appreciation began to melt as she remembered. Her blood had covered the crisp earth. That history was her present, not one day prior.

"Let's get out of here." She coughed; her gaze was permitted to go onward before her words escaped her mouth.

Brush's gaze lay on the opposite end, not facing the wind nor the direction Mary wished to transform into their labyrinth.

"The sooner the better," brush responded. Whatever introspection he had was left to rot and spoil in his mind alongside his other thoughts.

"What's the plan, Mary?" Ereo questioned as his arms began to reach unto his back.

"We'll walk till we find something," she muttered.

"We? No, I know what our plan is; we'll find those knights again and KILL them this time."

"Please... can we not talk about the knights?" brush mumbled to respond to Ereo's orders.

"How about none of us talk until we find a place to sit down, far away?" Mary spoke in a hushed voice. afraid of shattering the whispered nature of the conversation.

Ereo took a deep breath as his arms clawed at his back with a sudden jerk. reaching for the wavy blue cape and ripping it off his back and letting it flow into the distance

"Far away. Far, far away," Ereo promised himself as he began to walk beside them.

They began to walk as if commanded by destiny. An orchestrated song played by hundreds of other ill-fated souls who now manifested their thoughts and desires as the sweat and thoughts of the trio, each of them wishing the other would break the muted songs of the wind with their own conversation, yet all that was left was wind and their thoughts; none of them wished to be the one to take command, even now their legs not moved by their brains but by that conductor. That man of silver skin and his promises remained a pillar within their thoughts, the last sail keeping their brains from forever being austere.

"Failure has known our name. What about that Ereo?" brush stepped forth in the role of martyr to bring conversation into the still wind, and within the tradition of any other lamb of sacrifice, he was met with daggers of intense emotions almost instantly by Ereo.

"We would've stood a chance if you chunk of metal had some strength to back up your claims."

"Yep... none of us were strong enough—" brush attempted to diffuse the tension arising from Ereo's words that poisoned the earth and began to regrow their slumbering emotions before Ereo.