you wanted to live forever, but didn't you realize? you had to die to be truly immortalized
Vercingtorix stands, watching.
He finds himself in Terrastella again. It is a land he frequents more and more regularly, it seems. He would not say it is because of any particular connections, but in denying the fact he knows there is a lie. There is Elena who, against reason, has become his sole friend.
He thinks, however, it is because out of the entirety of Novus, Terrastella reminds him most of home. He walks through the knee-high grasses, allowing the wind to batter him. This late in spring, the air feels too hot, more like summer.
Vercingtorix can see Damascus flying in the middle distance. They have not been speaking, much—perhaps because Vercingtorix blames him for the incident involving Sereia. Damascus should have been there. He should have felt it. He should have saved him—or else, what is the point of having a Bonded?
From this far away, he cannot deny the majesty of the dragon. He strikes a massive, imposing silhouette on the clear horizon. With such a cloudless day, Damascus is in fact the only thing on the horizon. Vercingtorix walks to the cliffside and lets the wind from the sea block out everything else. It fills his ears and numbs his skin; and when he turns to see someone else standing there, he is not surprised.
He finds himself in Terrastella again. It is a land he frequents more and more regularly, it seems. He would not say it is because of any particular connections, but in denying the fact he knows there is a lie. There is Elena who, against reason, has become his sole friend.
He thinks, however, it is because out of the entirety of Novus, Terrastella reminds him most of home. He walks through the knee-high grasses, allowing the wind to batter him. This late in spring, the air feels too hot, more like summer.
Vercingtorix can see Damascus flying in the middle distance. They have not been speaking, much—perhaps because Vercingtorix blames him for the incident involving Sereia. Damascus should have been there. He should have felt it. He should have saved him—or else, what is the point of having a Bonded?
From this far away, he cannot deny the majesty of the dragon. He strikes a massive, imposing silhouette on the clear horizon. With such a cloudless day, Damascus is in fact the only thing on the horizon. Vercingtorix walks to the cliffside and lets the wind from the sea block out everything else. It fills his ears and numbs his skin; and when he turns to see someone else standing there, he is not surprised.
