what the thunder said ;
Nam Sibyllam quidem Cumis ego ipse oculis meis vidi in ampulla pendere, et cum illi pueri dicerent:Σιβυλλα τι θελεις; respondebat illa:αποθανειν θελω. *
( I saw with my own eyes the Sibyl at Cumae hanging in a cage, and when the boys said to her: “Sibyl, what do you want?” she answered: “I want to die.” )
the past few weeks haven’t been the best — not that anything is desirable in war apart from victory — in terms of his schedule. holding down the fort at one of the islands outside elv hadn’t been too hard. neither was helping the troops clear out of the land near the outskirts of tempestade before the opposing sides engaged in a prolonged skirmish that lasted a few days (three days, ten hours and fifteen minutes, if cain was being exact, but who was keeping count?).
it was the pirates that irked him the most, fighting battles they could not win, and pushing him into making his fleet stay at sea just to fend them off. they bred like cockroaches, anyway.
and it was after a particularly refreshing meal that a messenger knocked upon the door, and proceeded to deliver news that made him stab the poor desk he’d been eating on.
“excuse me?”
“captain nam heeyeon, sire. she was killed in action, after having eliminated most of the enemy —,”
killed.
before the poor boy could finish the message, cain was already on his feet, grabbing the scabbard that remained among other choice weapons behind him. “who did it?”
“suryans, your highness. they were reported to have sailed north, towards elv. they were spotted about thirty clicks east of our location.”
killed.
they killed his favourite —
“get a smaller ship ready for me. call scott — the colonel is in charge for now until i get back,” cain instructed — more like snapped, scabbard sheathed at his hip and his glasses removed, placed neatly inside the drawer at his desk. it was easy enough to locate his jacket despite the sudden blurred vision, after having lived with it for so long. “NOW.”
“y-yes! yes, sire.”
only when the boy was gone did grief crush him entirely. once the door closed his palms fell against the wood, arms shaky as cain felt his chest cave in completely. the finality of death wasn’t lost to him; the finality of loss was something new, something foreign, something unwanted. cain had never lost something so precious to death — never lost it while never having hope, elusive and fantastical as it was, that someone precious could come back to him again. his throat and his eyes ached, and only when tears fell warm and heavy onto the marred surface did he realise he was crying. cain’s jaw was set, teeth locked in an effort to keep the grievous cry trapped within it at bay.
and there lay the uncertainty, the hopelessness, the loss of something he’d come to accept as normal, as routine.
for once in his score-and-a-year’s worth of existence, cain felt something like what others would call sadness — and he hated every second of it.
cain quickly inhaled, and wiped the tears away, and by the time his orders were accomplished did he set out with his hands aching for blood.















