Dying Embers Of The War's Path [Liltotto/SOLO]

[TP: Roughly 600 years ago, amidst the Quincy Genocide]

Alight.

Even the dark cover of the night sky couldn’t quence the sickly glow of reds and oranges upon a barren field. Not a soul stirred in the field of death, but a single presence approached the worst of the scarred land. Who appeared to be a young girl, was a grieving woman beneath such a youthful face. A sad curiosity led her to this wasteland, for she needed to know what they did, what the shinigami were suddenly capable of to end the life of…

She kept her focus. She wanted to find her corpse, but even if this was the correct point of carnage, she grew less sure as she looked upon the charred remains of the fallen, fragments of Vandenreich clothing and equipment strewn haphazardly along with blackened bone and shattered bodies. Though she didn’t know their faces, even if she wasn’t fond of many of them, she held her head down solemnly.

They fought so fervently for their lives, for the right to live to be torn out of their attacker’s grasp, but died horribly. So, very, horribly…

She could tell, with great despair in her heart - They weren’t going to win.

Though, among the smells of burning and decay, she caught the faint scent of life. It was weak, but she could follow it, soon approaching a cluster of charred trees. Hoarse breathing emanated from the blackened plants, dimly lit by firelight.

Whoever was in there was barely hanging on, and smelled horrid. They had to have been a survivor who was unlucky enough to have no one left to tend to them. Either way, with a quieted heart, she’d come into view of the fallen.

A woman - someone she hadn’t met before, once white clothing now tattered with dirt, blood, and debris, torn and ripped all over. One of her legs was nothing but an infected, ragged stump, propped up with dull, weak eyes, hair draped over her face. She definitely was on her last legs.

“..Hello..?” Her voice was frail and small, “I..Is someone there..?”

The golden-haired woman emerged from her place, nodding softly.

“..Oh… A-are you a part of the Vande…” Hacking and coughing followed. She understood what was intended, and nodded.

“..Lovely..” A smile perked on her otherwise pale and weak features, “...D-did His Majesty send you?”

She nodded. A lie. Nobody sent her - she slipped off on her own. She thought it to be cruel to let her know the truth: that nobody was looking for her, or anyone in her position. It was chaos.
“..I’m so glad… I waited all this time…” She’d let out a labored sigh, “All of my life… For this war… At the very least… I can say I fought until the end, yes?”

She nodded once more, the woman weakly motioning her to come over. She obliged, even with the terrible smell. She didn’t feel like she could simply leave.

“..Not one of many words..?” She’d breathe, a weak laugh uttered before devolving into another coughing fit, “..That’s alright. It is better than the… Deafening isolation…”

The golden eyed youth sat next to the perishing woman, for moments in silence. The dark haired soldier looked to the sky, tears glimmering in her eyes,

“..Do you think… His Majesty would be proud of me..?”

“Yes.” Her small voice finally peeped. Another lie, but she couldn’t bear to add to this woman’s despair on her deathbed.

“I’m glad, at least… Some of us will survive this…”

Her small hand met the woman’s own, gently pressed against her chilling body to give a sense of warmth. Her scent was fading fast. There was no help she could give her, apart from being here as she faded.

“..You seem strong, little friend…” One of her final breaths mused, “...I hope you grow up, and past this…”

She slumped slightly. Any vibrance she had left had vanished in seconds. She was alone once more, nestled against a fresh corpse.

Moments passed.
Seconds passed.
Minutes passed.

The well in her chest burst.

Out within a faraway field of death, where none could hear her, she grieved. So loudly, so deeply, she grieved.