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(Minor Event) West Port Dockyards...?
| "It really hits you hard when the next tombstone to his is not yours — but rather your younger sister's. That frail little princess who was so fun to tease, but so dear to shield from the cruelty of your homeworld. That feeling of powerlessness, as if her life just slipped through your fingers, as if a grain of sand. So tiny and insignificant in the eyes of the world, but..."
>Sea wind blew stronger for a moment, stealing away words and cigarette smoke.
| "Your friends follow suit, each for their own reasons. Some just don't manage to make it. Some you have to shove aside yourself — such is the reality of the universe sometimes. One might call that a betrayal. Maybe, perhaps? But, well, otherwise there wouldn't be anyone else left to bring flowers into the graveyard. I wouldn't say it doesn't hurt, oh boy it does. I do find solace, however, in thought, that maybe some of the things I did were not in vain."
| "And so you are the last one left. You made it through it all. Now you have the experience, the wealth, the connections, the strength and the power of will to keep on going, for as long as need be... But no goal, to apply those to. You just, merely, survived to see the other day, and the other day is nothing but a void. Hungry, dark, soul-wrenching, devouring abyss, that chews a person up and spits him out — for worse."
| >Snowflakes begin to dance violently, thrown around by the sea breeze, not at all caring for how rare these are in Spring.
"You feel nothing, want nothing, dream of nothing. But you are the last one. You have no right to perish, not now at least. And so the struggle begins anew. You make a goal, not for yourself, but for those who will come after you — because there is nothing left for you. This is the last stretch, so that you leave something worthwhile behind you."
| >Drops hit the ground, but those are neither rain nor water from the sea.
"This goal is nothing grand on itself, but as the time moves on, your means of achieving it take on a whole another spin. But in the end, when hundreds of thousands of lives hang desperately onto the tip of your pen, as you decide whether to put your sign upon the paper in front of you — all that presides in that deep corner of your soul that you kept throughout your life is this tiny, selfish desire."
| "Just so someone would take care of five old tombstones in a graveyard on some backwater world."
>Wind blows once again, and it brings silence in return of the words it snatched before.
"Now, tell me, when you wake up, what would you think of love?"
>A tall, blond teenager stood at the end of a pier, one of the many, as he faced a young woman with fiery red hair. On her head there was a weird creature, akin to a facehugger from a long forgotten movie.
| >She kept silence. On her face, adorned cutely with freckles, were tears.
>Salty water around the pier was frozen solid, a tiny patch of ice on the dark, unstable surface of the sea. Glitch City hailed the new dawn.
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| "You wake up one day and realize that it was yesterday that your last family member has perished. Gone. Your loved parents, who cherished you and raised. But, that much is to be expected, right? Generations change, and one must learn to let go. Then your older brother follows in their steps. The one whom you would always rely upon in the hour of need — now a gravestone to visit."
> Waves collapsing upon the plastobeton of the pier almost muted the sound of a teenager male voice.