Two Dredgen stand at the remains of a smouldering settlement. Carcasses strewn around and festering with the chewing bite of sorrowful weapons.
One of them broke the loud silence. "What happens with hope leaves? Just look at the Fallen and Riis. Just look at this..." He throws his arms up - disdainful of his, and his partner's actions.
"You fall into despair.."
He slowly and methodically peels off an outer layer of spineless armor, his gauntlets. He discards them on the ground. He doesn't even notice.
He begins to re-enter what was once a small town.
"The only way to get out is to crawl out of that pit of hell you sauntered proudly into, then.. Is to become the shit people walk on."
He unfastens his gloves and his chestplate, discarding those too. They fall unceremoniously.
"If not you'll just rot down there. I'd know."
The man sighs, and pauses to roll his shoulders, back facing his companion. A bad move, yes, but he could care less for his life. This opening was calculated.
"I've rotted outside and inside of Sol millions and millions of times before my Ghost could drag me back to the unliving."
He resumed the shedding of his uniform, unlocking the clasps of his mask and letting it drop onto the pile with a muffled rattle.
"So hear me now." His voice trembled with... something.
Not fear alone, but moreso... rage.
It seemed to burn hot into the penumbra of their encounter. His face did not need to be seen for this.
"In existence, if you want something? This is what it means to truly "take". You find what you need and rip it offa the poor sunovabitch..." He violently kicks a lump of mud. It was mixed with soot and blood. The coagulated mess was sent flying easily over 50 feet.
"Even if that sunovabitch is a baby and what you're takin' is candy." His shoulders tremble for a second, his breaths sounding controlled but his body almost heaving.
The volume of the soliloquy seems to be increasing. The man is loud and does not care. The other Dredgen is the only other around for approximately five miles.
"Their tears ain't your own here. In that moment. You wanted the candy? Con-fucking-gratulations. Enjoy it, savor it, because —" The man sucks in a sharp bitter breath, ripping off the remainder of his equipment, leaving him in tattered under armour.
"...Who knows. Maybe that same kid will show up one day and blast your brains out. I believe that's how it works."
Dredgen Hope is no longer present. The thing standing there, shudders almost bare, breaths hissing and shuddering in rage and pain and realization.
"If I learned anything about being a Shadow, it's.. that the only thing that take and don't give is lady death, brother."
He beats at his chest twice with a tightly held fist.
"But if you ain't ready for that unseen sister?..." He seems to slowly deflate, exhaustion catching up. Yet he slowly begins his slow walk away.
"You better fight or... just fuckin' get it over with, bust y'Ghost, and then yourself."
He staggers, reels and spits out some gunk and blood which was stuck in his trachea.
"It ain't right for ones such as us to feel guilt, huh? But remember what you were. And look at you now. If there's anything you should guilt and pity about... it should be your damn self."
Despair words. 'Better out than in.' An echo of a Ghostly spark encourages. The man walks in hope, a bit taller. 'I'm proud of you.'
"For fellas who like the Hive and are s'pposed t'be worshippin'? Y'all got the wrong fuckin' idea..."
Is the man instilling hope? Like another infection? Is he telling the other to go off himself literally? Is he just saying shit? It doesn't matter because the one saying these words doesn't know himself. He just keeps walking. He doesn't care if the other follows or not. Hell! He probably wouldn't fucking care if the other attempted to kill him or stop him.
He has no weapons but his words.
"I ain't waitin' on you no more. You either comin' or goin'. M'goin' to be a dead man walkin' some place else."
His words have power. It's why he seldom talks. But he thinks. He thinks this, with the Ghostly gossamer overshielding his mind;
Until the flash-fire of crazed burning-time -
Nips the roses at the bud -
Until the last flame dies -
And all words have been spoken -
A revel in mystery of a half-life -
Not yet discovered -
Another promise to be taken or left behind -
"Until next time, ol'friend."
His words can end gifts.
(He does not speak again for a long time. His Ghost helps with this.)
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