Sakura was silent, caught turning around and seeing Kang's action with Kanner as she did so. It was fast, efficient; she wondered where it fit in to everything they'd done. Nightwing wasn't the only one unable to look away, still staring at Kanner when the teleport activated, a familiar (by now) sensation of being stretched and ripped away to somewhere else.
Where had that fit in? Why? What had made that necessary? But the realistic part of herself, counting the note she'd found, thinking of their traversing of the hospital, of Kanner being there at all at any point, kept her silent.
She knew what this world could do, but war was war. The fighting that had gone on in leaving had been against people personally motivated to anger; and she guessed, maybe, the Ohm had something like that too. She was tired and fed up of their four day excursion into yet another wargrounds, with only more to come.
She didn't look away because his wasn't the only death today, and wouldn't be the only death tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after that. Each one of them was blessedly lucky, but that luck would run out. Like at home, when comrades (from her village, or from another) had fallen under the brutality of beings operated as an extension of a far-off puppet master's whims, people she knew would die. Maybe she would. Despite the idea of the Chosen, she wasn't anything special.
Sick at heart, she told herself to grow up. Galilee wasn't their problem. If she dreamed about this place afterward, it'd be another dream to add to the stock of them that kept sleep from being restful. She'd just have to work that much harder to pass out into dreamless sleep at night.
Welcome to War. This is your life, reclaimed, sold, and packaged. Thanks for the reminder.
Once the teleport was over, she was moving. "Anyone injured? Let's get to restraints! Anyone who needs help moving say so now. Anything that needs to be secured will need to be secured. We've worked too hard to let it break down now."
We've stolen so well we better not having nothing to show for it in the end.
no subject
Where had that fit in? Why? What had made that necessary? But the realistic part of herself, counting the note she'd found, thinking of their traversing of the hospital, of Kanner being there at all at any point, kept her silent.
She knew what this world could do, but war was war. The fighting that had gone on in leaving had been against people personally motivated to anger; and she guessed, maybe, the Ohm had something like that too. She was tired and fed up of their four day excursion into yet another wargrounds, with only more to come.
She didn't look away because his wasn't the only death today, and wouldn't be the only death tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after that. Each one of them was blessedly lucky, but that luck would run out. Like at home, when comrades (from her village, or from another) had fallen under the brutality of beings operated as an extension of a far-off puppet master's whims, people she knew would die. Maybe she would. Despite the idea of the Chosen, she wasn't anything special.
Sick at heart, she told herself to grow up. Galilee wasn't their problem. If she dreamed about this place afterward, it'd be another dream to add to the stock of them that kept sleep from being restful. She'd just have to work that much harder to pass out into dreamless sleep at night.
Welcome to War. This is your life, reclaimed, sold, and packaged. Thanks for the reminder.
Once the teleport was over, she was moving. "Anyone injured? Let's get to restraints! Anyone who needs help moving say so now. Anything that needs to be secured will need to be secured. We've worked too hard to let it break down now."
We've stolen so well we better not having nothing to show for it in the end.