Challenge Name and Number: Generations, #034
Drabble Title: Yesterday is History
Word Count: 591 (not counting this bit)
Warnings (if applicable): Eh. Violence inflicted on buildings?
Pairings (if applicable): None
Author's note: Set pre-canon, and I blanked again on a decent title. Also, I need to stop letting my friends show me weird YouTube videos.
Summary: It's taken years to build but hours to destroy.
The city has been there for years.
He doesn't remember when it was established or even the people who settled here; he was not alive when the first founders of what would become the city settled here, centuries ago, in their crudely made huts. But he does know that it has been here since he was born and he's content to leave it at that.
If you look around, you can see the history of this city; true, some of the older buildings have been replaced with contemporary counterparts due to age, fire, or rotted wood, but there are not too many of those because everyone likes the older buildings better.
Some of the archaic brick structures are still standing as evidence to the years they've weathered, wood chipping off the trellises and golden paint peeling off the iron gates in front of the bank. In some places the road is replaced with asphalt, but in most cases the street is cobbled. Even inside the buildings there have been few modifications; the stairways are narrow and creak when weight is put on them, the floors are made from dark oak boards that needs to be constantly polished, gas lamps are still being used for interior lighting, and he's sure that in some buildings the wallpaper has been there for almost a hundred years.
The older buildings are constantly being restored, because they are so rich in history; everyone here takes meticulous care of everything, because if something breaks or gets damaged it's almost impossible to replace. The town has been through storms, floods, and fires, droughts and blizzards, and yet here it is, a solid place of established fortitude.
It's taken so many years to build this city, years of working on what was left to them by their forefathers and time spent preserving the history of his home. However, it's not terribly surprising that what took decades to build gets destroyed in a matter of hours by the tanks that arrived that morning; by nightfall nearly a quarter of the familiar and older buildings are either burning to the ground or they are standing on their last legs.
He watches one house crumble, the roof folding in on itself and collapsing entirely; the glass windows explode outward, the shards catching the light in a bizarrely beautiful display. The fire eats the wreckage eagerly, spreading to a nearby oak tree and setting it ablaze as well.
He's oddly detached when he realizes that is the very same house he was raised in. He isn't sad that it's gone, though—it's been in his family for years, true, but there is something much more important to him that he has to watch over at the moment.
He glances down to the child who's clutching his jacket tightly, the boy's wide and teary gray eyes watching the house burn. He turns and takes his brother's hand in his own, gently tugging the boy into the safety of the nearby forest; he's sure there are other now homeless townspeople taking refuge here.
Alister does not mourn the blatant destruction of the town and the history that surrounds it. There are more important things to be concerned with now.