I want to work on my writing skills again, not to mention I’ve really had an aching to tell some stories (since games take forever to make and tell one). Feel free to criticize, comment, speculate, and such
This is a slight content and spoiler warning
“And of him?” The man in the matted, downcast coat questioned, motioning with his head toward the direction of the fallen hero. “What more is left? Who more is left…” choking on his own question, he paused to regain a semblance of composure, despite the fact that it no longer mattered. Glaring at his surroundings, glossy with a sheen of oil and blood, he continued.
“The stains of this field… Bondage was paid for with crimson, but now there’s no more blood to spill. Is this really it? A pitiful conclusion fit for a pitiful race I suppose.” The man’s hostility seemed pointed at some unknown part of himself rather than humanity, yet all the same a tinge of bitterness corrupted his every word.
“Words are a poor mimicry of emotions.” his graying friend struggled in response. “They are disguised with the purpose of communication, but the power they lose is found again in the language of the body.” “This finale was not your doing. This was set in motion long before us.” The frailty of his friend’s increasingly strained words cut worse than any saw.
“Every human has a need to inspire, to tell a story of their own. Yours will be the final one. Tell it well, dear friend. Fate is at hand, and heaven itself is watching.” With that, his mentor, his longest friend, and the closest thing to a father he ever had– was as motionless as the bodies of his allies and as silent as the metal and glass forms scattered around him.