Prologue
Two men sat in the shade of an apple tree. They had been friends since childhood, had grown up together, and had fought together. One man, the one in burgundy, held a book in his hand and read silently. It was a play he had read many times before, had practically memorized, and it had provided much inspiration over the course of his life. The other man, the man in dark blue, leaned against the tree, his head back and his eyes closed.
"We come here every time," noted the man in burgundy.
Without opening his eyes, the man in blue responded.
"Then pick a different spot. It's your dream, after all."
"I know," said the man in burgundy. "I'm not complaining; I'm simply noting that after all this time, and everything we've done, we still always come home."
The man in blue smiled and wrapped his wing around himself as a makeshift blanket.
"Home is where the heart is, I suppose."
"Angeal, you know I despised my parents."
"Yes, I do. I'm teasing you."
Genesis Rhapsodos nodded and continued reading.
Even if the morrow is barren of promises,
Nothing shall forestall my return.