Chapter Text
On an unassuming December 14th, the sun slowly set on the horizon: reds and oranges and yellows bleeding into the darkening sky and staining the fields a soft pink. Its rays warmed the land, staving off the chill of the quickly approaching night. The ocean - warmly glowing under the sun's praise - caressed the shorelines soothingly, biding the land and all of its sleepy inhabitants a tender goodnight. The clouds meandered overhead, soft and fluffy as they made their way across the sky. A few stars twinkled in the sky, winking at all the sleepy younglings across the land.
Across the forests, wind shifted the leaves of the trees as crickets began to chirp - mother wolves nudging their protesting and squealing pups into their dens. In their trees, owls slowly awoke, preening their feathers in preparation for the night they had ahead of them. Foxes softy padded along the pine floors, ears held high in search of prey.
In the rolling plains, not a single animal was to be seen, rabbits curled up together in piles in their burrows underneath the dirt. The horses that spent had their day racing across the grass had retired for the day - neighing each other a soft goodnight.
In the snowy tundras, polar bear cubs pressed against their mothers to conserve warmth as they stumbled to their dens. Arctic foxes yipped playfully at each other as they settled in for the night with bellies full of fish.
In the far distance - across the ocean and beyond the horizon in a city of gentle spruce that was sat over a lake - lanterns softly illuminated the sky, casting a warm glow over the houses. In a stuffy office, a tired child soldier scratched away at paperwork, a compass glinting purple on his desk and causing memories to resurface. A vice takng advantage of a second chance paced his floor, mind clouded in worry - the events of nearly a month ago replaying in his mind on repeat. In a house festive and decorated for the holidays, a hybrid worried for his newest friend as he got ready for bed. In an empty house, an orphan forced thoughts of a ghostly father behind, angry tears quietly streaming down his face. Below an endlessly spinning llama, two fiancées cuddled, talking in hushed tones about the well-being of their third piece and everyone else around them.
So far away yet so close, in an open tundra filled with a fresh layer of soft fluffy snow, a horse gently nickered - warm breath pooling in front of him. Inside the cottage, steam gently trailed from a mug of hot chocolate, the beverage slowly sipped by a retired warrior. Sat next to him, a worried father stared into the flickering fireplace with a troubled expression.
And, in a plains bordered by woods - with smoke drifting into the air and ashened ruins of a home still warm to the touch - a bloodied and bruised teen sat upon a man-made tower of dirt, counting the seconds until he would jump towards the ground and end his life.
The cold breeze was sharp and unforgiving against burnt fleshed, stinging harshly at the exposed skin. The boy shivered slightly, staring at the clouds where they drifted below him. The air was thin and cold, and he could see a few stars in the sky as the sun set before him.
In the boy's hand - for that was what he was, a mere child strung along into war after war - he held several pictures from a time long, long ago. Silent tears slowly dripped onto the pictures, hands trembling around them with a white knuckled grip.
The boy thought, and thought, and thought - mind a swirling storm as he gently pocketed the pictures. He leaned over the edge, staring down at the land below him with tired eyes that spoke of knowledge years beyond what he should know.
The fall was so tempting, the oh so familiar pull of gravity so wonderful sounding to the boy. It would be so easy for him to simply let himself fall - and yet he refrained. Something in the back of his mind was poking at him, begging to be listened to with desperate, screaming pleads, and so he listened.
Up on a tower made to kill, made to end, a realization slowly dawned on the boy; and lke the gentle pittering of rain fading away to the roar of a storm, the boy finally made a realization.
The boy stood on shaky legs, hands twitching violently at his side. His mind raced with a thousand thoughts, will hanging by a single, tearing thread.
When the boy jumped - heart leaping into his throat as wind howled around him and he fell freely towards the earth below him - he landed in a pool of freezing water, not the unforgiving ground.
Gathering everything that was left still usable after the explosion, the boy fashioned a makeshift sword, and set off into the night.