@metamorphoria​           * mini starter call     //       'silence' from Crowe!

HE CAN’T REMEMBER THE LAST TIME THEY WERE SO FAR AWAY FROM INSOMNIA .   left behind are the minimalistic structures of civilization ,   with its sleek designs and bustling style .   duscae opens up into the wilderness without holding back ,   revealing a different kind of motion .   nature in its grand splendour ,   trees as far as the eye can see .   what was supposed to be a simple training exercise took a dive into the danger zone when their directive changed .   ORDERS WERE ORDERS THOUGH ,   and no matter how RISKY it was ,   they still had to push through .   the drop in temperature is a subtle reminder that winter is right around the corner and not even duscae can escape the chill and the breeze that sweeps down ,   whistling between the trees .   no moon tonight   ;   shadows fall like a blanket ,   covering their surroundings pitch black ,   a high contrast against the comfort of daylight .   it adds another layer to their PRECARIOUS situation .   

he crouches down low ,   one knee to the ground ,   a hand raising at shoulder height to signal a stop .   he doesn’t need to look back to know crowe is right there .   there’s strength in numbers ,   sure ,   but if a daemon were to appear     ———     FOCUS .   their target is moving ,   away from the open field and into a hollowed point ,   a path between the foliage that makes it hard to see .   the prints on the ground are bigger than he expected ,   and deep .   he makes a quick estimation in his mind ,   trying to match it up with the broken branches they’ve encountered so far .   IT WON’T BE EASY ,   but then again ,   if it was something easily achieved ,   the kingsglaive wouldn’t have been requested to track and eliminate a bothersome BEAST in the wild .     (     aren’t there usually HUNTERS who take care of that kind of thing   ?     )     

two fingers point towards the front to keep moving .   he keeps low to the ground ,   just in case ,   with one hand holding tightly to the hilt of a kukri .   further in ,   still no visual of their mark .   a THICK FOG rolls out from the depths of the forest ,   giving him pause .   for a second ,   he glances back at his companion ,   shooting her an exasperated look . 

they should be resting at the haven by now ,   after the second day of bonding and training drills .   instead ,   they’re outside ,   in the middle of a labyrinth of trees .   it’s cold and way too dark .   he shakes his head ,   releasing a long quiet sigh .   he supposes it could be worse     ———     AND JUST AS HE THINKS THAT ,   the crack of thunder startles him and a downpour drops on them without mercy .

@metamorphoria​ cont ;     from here . 

WAS HE REALLY EXPECTING SOMETHING DIFFERENT   ?   a hundred different words ,   different answers narrowed down a path old and worn .   it curves something wry on his lips ,   to match her remark .   COMFORTING ,   wasn’t it   ?   ever evolving pull and flow ,   the constant wave of motion     ———     stagnant ,   for a moment .   a second ,    stretched out as the exhaustion of a long shift blended into the chill past midnight ,   and the hint of a new day .   HE BLAMES THE ALCOHOL ,   of course .   and the war ,   and the ache of old injuries and even older scars .     ❛   four days tomorrow ,   ❜     a CRUEL REMINDER .   mockery of celebration ,   he tries not to laugh as he tips the almost empty bottle of beer at her .

HERE’S TO YOU ,   FRIEND ,   AND PULLING THE SHORT STRAW .

could be worse .   could always be worse .

he distracts himself with the bottle ,   blunt fingernail picking at the label .   cheap alcohol ,   not even good enough to warm up the blood .     (     but on days like this ,   he tries to avoid hard spirits     ———     he always regrets it the next day     )     there’s a HUM ,   some contemplation of a reply to her question .   beyond the GREAT WALL ,    SHIMMERING PROTECTION ,   there is chaos .   and death ,   and the place that pulls at the strings of his heart .   HOME ,   right  ?  if he closes his eyes for a second ,   he can even see it .   peaceful ,   and thrilling ,   and green .   but insomnia is cold ,   and loud ,   and imposing     ———     and not for the first time ,   a concrete reminder of the stake of their lives .     ❛   no reason .   ❜     

no .   never .   well ,   sometimes .   DEPENDS     ..     on how badly his ghosts haunt him ,   on how loud his sister’s voice is ,    always lurking in the back of his mind .    on how many casualties they mourn after a disaster of a mission .   he pushes the now empty bottle away ,   a soft clink ,   against their growing little pile of bottles .   one more and his head will start swimming .   the thing is ,   nostalgia is too strong a word .   he can’t be nostalgic over something he’ll never have .   regretful ,   definitely .   wistful maybe ,   for the spark of possibility ,   for the life that will never be .   in another lifetime .   in another universe .     ❛   honestly   ?   ❜     he huffs ,   head low ,   eyes closing for a moment .   he swallows back the knot on his throat ,   lets the alcohol loosen up limbs and lips .   not everyone lived a happy life .   not every childhood was golden and worth remembering .   just because he misses something————     he grins ,   a low chuckle in the back of his throat .     ❛   i think i would’ve made one hell of a comedian .   don’t you think   ?   ❜