Plasmatropolis [OLD]

Repercussions (Epilogue)

David sighed as he looked out at the city he'd helped save so many times over, rolling William's crown in his hands. The several months since Thalleous and William's deaths, and the end of much conflict, were busy. Rebuilding a shattered city from the remains of an invaded district and many traumatised civilians was not easy in any way. He was still grieving over Nitrox, who had died at Orson's hands. A warrior's death, but he still didn't deserve to be extinguished at his golden moment. To his left, the sea glittered in all its glory as the sun peeked over the horizon, a slightly salty breeze washing in from the shore.

Sam and Krista came up from behind him, Zikaitan in between the two of them, clasping both their hands. The Kaltaris child's leg never completely healed, the joint twisted too far to be salvaged. Krista's ear twitched for a moment, facing the ocean, the source of distant, crashing waves.

Sam walked up to the other man's side, "Are you okay, David?"

He stood in silence before acknowledging the question, "If I'm to be honest, no. I'm not okay. Everything's wearing down on me a lot and I'm worried for everyone who was involved. It cannot possibly be good living with the knowledge of what you've done, fighting others and killing in general."

"I get it, but you can move on, you did it when the Droug came."

"It took many years, Sam, and this is arguably worse. I feel so bad for Galleous."

Zikaitan, straining his limbs, was dragging Krista by her hand over to the humans.

"Mommy, can you tell a story so that we don't have to be so sad?"

The Felina smiled, then responded in a gentle voice, "David and Sam already know all my stories, they were there themselves."

The Kaltaris ignored his adopted mother's statement and skipped over to the blonde haired human, almost tripping over his misshapen knee, "Dad, David, sir, could you please tell me a cool story?"

David's expression softened, though it was still mottled with exhaustion and sadness, then he turned to walk back inside, "Okay, I'll tell you about how Black Plasma started..."
...
Galleous examined the swords that he'd retrieved from William and Thalleous' corpses. He felt a tear run down his face as he remembered when he and his brother were young, almost a century ago. Oh the games they played and fun they had, it was such a shame it all had to come to such an abrupt end.

The Animators' victory had come at such a grave price, losing so many in the fight that had ensued. Impossible loss suddenly welled up in his heart as he gazed at the greatsword in his hand. He could almost see the hammer he'd used to bevel the edge of the blade in his hand, precisely angling his blows to create the perfect arc over the blade, for he had made it as Thalleous' hundredth birthday present. It was so clean, sharp and well polished, he felt proud that his brother had taken the time to follow his advice on maintaining it.

So much blood had been spilled by the blade. So much more than he'd ever anticipated and ever dared think of. He'd only joined the Sendaris gang because back then, he and his brother were inseparable, following each other wherever they went. But it had all gone downhill when Thalleous had met Tygren.

Repressing his unwanted recollection once again, he set down the greatsword, flipping it so that the face with Thalleous' name etched into the core was hidden. He then picked up the blade that had ended his brother's life. But then, just as quickly, he put it down again. Too many memories suddenly poured through his mind and clouded his vision. He was a child, playing tag with his twin brother. He was a swordsmith's apprentice, learning to make instruments of death, and others besides. Wincing, Galleous snapped his eyes open, glaring at the ceiling, wishing the past away.