Doesn't Get Better than This

He was standing, leaning against a tall archway with arms crossed. His dark eyes scanned the landscape that lay before him, his breathing slow and methodical. Moses was still in a residual state of shock, his lack of comprehension frustrating. He wanted answers and he wasn't getting them. Fortunately, he wasn't alone. Everyone who had come from Northaven was clambering for something, anything, to make sense of it all. He didn't feel alone, either, which brought him great ease. But when everyone was lost, it inspired motivation in his person. He was going to try and bring results that a goal, a direction may be worked towards. Even if it was a dead end, at least it was something. The only question was where to begin. He watched as the sun rose, warm rays filtering down the vast environment and slipping past the somber man. They invited him to open up, to loose his crossed arms and let the warmth dip into his chest. The sun was not successful, and Moses only felt his hairs stand on end in rejection. He still felt terribly dead and removed, his soul still tainted by what had taken him all that time ago. He heard footsteps behind him and he paid it no mind. The echoing of the building was full of shuffling and laden with traversing individuals. To him it was just another pair of feet, going out and trying to work with what they had. Bless them; he truly wished he had the same invigoration. Ashetta Moses-Joel men of honor are hard to find