Rila: Hey there! :) Something that bit me just recently. Aubrey is a Spartan of my own creation, and is one of the main characters in my Halo/TCW crossover called Thin Line. :D That should be seeing an update in the next few weeks - hopefully, anyway... .; Ah! Before I forget - new penname! That's all that's changed, nothing else. Still the same weirdo here! :D Also, the d'script for the chapter is directly pulled from Linkin Park's song 'Skin to Bone'
Disclaim: I don't own Halo. I do, however, own Aubrey.
Word Count: 679
Chapter Description: Skin to bone, steel to rust. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
The planet was a wasteland. What might have once been a proud civilization of hard-working humans was gone; now there was nothing but a silver wasteland that stretched on for miles. Patches of silver shimmered in the distance, and to the untrained eye, probably looked like water. But Aubrey knew better. That wasn't water. When the Covenant glassed a planet, they made sure that nothing was left.
Vitrified soil sounded like broken glass underfoot, and she adjusted her hold on her Spiker, eyes roaming over the vast tracts of silver. Every now and then there was a sudden burst of activity; of broken spires stretching towards the sky in a last act of defiance. It didn't matter, Aubrey knew, and swallowed the bitterness with the bile that rose in her throat. This was nothing new, this was not her first time seeing a planet glassed - but this one called to her, resonating with a deep, lonely ache that she thought long forgotten.
"Doesn't get any easier, does it." It was not a question, but a statement, as footsteps came to a stop behind her. Aubrey didn't bother to turn, eyes flicking briefly to the feed in the corner of her helmet. Two others showed almost scenic views of the destruction, though Aubrey knew better than to think of any of this as beautiful.
"No," she answered at last, adjusting her grip on her weapon again. Had she been less rigid in her training, she might've felt tears burning at the corners of her eyes. Had she been any less of a soldier, she might've cried. But soldiers didn't go against training just because something got to them. Spartans didn't cry. But something twisted and ached deep inside her, coaxing her to continue talking, if only to ease some of the pressure. "It used to be mostly farmland."
Even now, even with all the plants gone beneath a surface of sparkling silver, the square patches remained. Potatoes, wheat, barley...Aubrey swallowed. Silence followed, broken only by the soft breathing of her companion before he stepped forward, and a hand landed on her shoulder.
"I'm sorry, kid." There was a distinct note of discomfort in his tone, as though he were unaccustomed to the gentler words and how to give them. Gloved fingers curled on her shoulder plate, a comforting squeeze that Aubrey didn't feel. He allowed her another moment before he pulled away. "Come on. The rest of the squad's waiting for us."
He turned, and Aubrey watched the dizzying blur of feed before it steadied, and impulse had her speaking before she could register her words. "It was quick, wasn't it? They didn't suffer." Now she looked at him, watching and waiting for an answer. He cut an intimidating figure in his dark green armor, but there was, as with all Spartans, a sense of loneliness to his stance.
"No, kid."
"You're lying." Lies, Aubrey already knew, were told to children to make them feel better.
It's okay. It'll be alright. Lies.
Aubrey began walking, following him back to where the rest of their squad was waiting. Impulse, however, had her slowing and turning, looking over the wasteland one last time.
We'll win this war.
Aubrey didn't know if that was a lie, and didn't want to.