The End of...?
Brin stands in the desert, his limbs held loosely about his side, a small package, not unlike those he brings back to the
people in the base is dangling from a string held in his left hand. His robes swirl about him as the unrelenting wind suddenly
gusts around him, making the string slip from his hand, and the package thud to the ground, betraying its weight.
o 0 ( ...perhaps if I say nothing, they will be able to deal with whatever comes themselves?...perhaps...they might be killed. All of them...)
His head drops, and he sweeps back a lock of his hair, which has grown longer since he last remembered to think about it. Unwrap the package...
o 0 ( ...what exactly did I hear anyway? I should have listened! remembered! How stupid can I get!...who can I trust? where do I have to run to?... )
*click* *click*
o 0 ( ...I will not allow my negligence to endanger those I am supposed to be serving again! This is the end!... )
Tears stream down his face, and every muscle in his forehead tenses. His eyes begin to stare, and turn bloodshot as he throws his staff
aside, and his cloak drops to the ground. With a gentle sob, he raises the contents of the package, and prepares it for use.
Across the desert, barely audible from the base, a lone gunshot breaks the white noise of the wind, and dies down.