Mourning [3302]
15 Dec 2016Hersilia
30th November, 3302The swirling grey sky of Terra howled above Hersilia. The right hand side of the duster coat was relentlessly battered by big, heavy drops of rain. It lashed down like the world itself had started to dissolve into water. A deep clap of thunder rumbled across the mournful sky as Hersilia adjusted her footing. The grass underfoot squelched and oozed liquid mud around the heavy duty soles. The thick brown liquid was also absorbed by the tips of her fur gaiters which covered the knee high boots. Deep all blue eyes stared downwards at a headstone. She'd been there for an hour now. An unmoving sentinel battered by the worlds everlasting fury. Yet ignoring it totally. All focus was directed to down onto a couple of words. A name;
Magnus Lowry.
An unnoticed tear formed in the corner of her left eye and ran silently down the soft cheek, it did not manage to get far as the howling wind and rain tore it away. Fluttering through the air like the rest, a single raindrop of salt landed on the compact dirt. Three silhouettes stood at the end of the row of graves. Standing solemnly and quietly. They watched in silence as Hersilia reached out a hand to the stone in front and seemingly traced the engraved letters. Suddenly without warning she collapsed to her knees, the ground splashed mud all up her sides and legs as she kneeled there carelessly weeping, holding onto the stone as if she were hugging it. One of the figures, tall and thin darted towards her instantly. The rain made the grass awkward to run on and after a couple of slips, a hurried hand grabbed onto the barrel, lowering it away from Hersilias chin. Finn had noticed her movements before the others and knew her too well. He knew the surreptitious way she tried to draw her weapon. She'd tried it enough times on him. Her shaking grip on the gun relaxed and it fell with a loud splat into the water logged ground. As the gun fell she couldn't help but bury her face into Finns' sodden jacket and gripped tightly onto his bulletproof vest. Scratching her bare fingers against the coarse fabric. He held her for a moment to comfort her before looking up towards the other two silhouettes and nodding. Grey nodded back in response, straightened out his uniform and gestured to Paroxsym to get the engines of his Python started. He watched as the mud covered Hersilia and Finn drew closer. As he clasped a hand round her shoulder he spoke softly;
"It's time to go home."