Koa
We are young supernovas
It has been an unbearably long week.
Or maybe it's only been a day? Koa is no longer sure. Ever since the meeting when the end of the world was announced Koa's concept of time and reality has been a little bit blurry. There had been so much to do, so many people to see and help, so many decisions and hard calls to make - a constant series of steps taking them forward, without enough time to sit and digest. Which is good, because Koa knows that if he stops moving he will probably break apart again, and he's spent the last few seasons working very, very hard to put his pieces back into place.
But as he steps off the skyboat returning from Halo, Koa can feel his momentum slip. The weak points in his armor are starting to falter, leading to hairline fractures in his resolve. Exhausted down to his very marrow, Koa staggers down the gangplank toward the small row of vendor stalls that somehow has seemed to grow as the disaster draws nears. Enterprising youngsters and stubborn merchants are making the most of a dire situation, and while in times of peace Koa might have questioned their legality, right now he's grateful for their entrepreneurial spirit.
Approaching one of the makeshift stalls, Koa orders a large iced coffee, extra large, extra iced, if they please. It's too damn hot and he's still dressed partially for Halo, with a long sleeved shirt and canvas pants tucked into his boots. Leaning in the shade of a nearby pillar, he lets his copper eyes drift shut, running his hand through the sweat of his forehead and lets his guard momentarily slip.
Or maybe it's only been a day? Koa is no longer sure. Ever since the meeting when the end of the world was announced Koa's concept of time and reality has been a little bit blurry. There had been so much to do, so many people to see and help, so many decisions and hard calls to make - a constant series of steps taking them forward, without enough time to sit and digest. Which is good, because Koa knows that if he stops moving he will probably break apart again, and he's spent the last few seasons working very, very hard to put his pieces back into place.
But as he steps off the skyboat returning from Halo, Koa can feel his momentum slip. The weak points in his armor are starting to falter, leading to hairline fractures in his resolve. Exhausted down to his very marrow, Koa staggers down the gangplank toward the small row of vendor stalls that somehow has seemed to grow as the disaster draws nears. Enterprising youngsters and stubborn merchants are making the most of a dire situation, and while in times of peace Koa might have questioned their legality, right now he's grateful for their entrepreneurial spirit.
Approaching one of the makeshift stalls, Koa orders a large iced coffee, extra large, extra iced, if they please. It's too damn hot and he's still dressed partially for Halo, with a long sleeved shirt and canvas pants tucked into his boots. Leaning in the shade of a nearby pillar, he lets his copper eyes drift shut, running his hand through the sweat of his forehead and lets his guard momentarily slip.
and the heat's about to break
