Chapter 1: I Am a Thousand Winds that Blow
It was a strange dusk on Second Miltia. A man paused as he knelt before a gravestone and looked up at the red-tinted clouds. The sky seemed to be bursting in flame as showers of shooting stars rained down overhead. A ghostly form of a space ship suddenly appeared, gliding silently as if on invisible wings; a calm and unperturbed vision amidst the fiery display of the heavens.
***
Onboard the Elsa, things had quieted down a bit. Or rather, it was completely quiet. After the ecstatic celebratory mood that engulfed the group upon KOS-MOS' return to the bridge, a strangely draining sense of relief had washed over them as the impact of the day's events hit them hard. The Elsa cruised aimlessly as each person stared into the dying sunlight, lost in their own thoughts and memories.
Heels tapping eerily in the dead silence, Shion walked slowly to the front of the bridge.
Second Miltia.
She was back.
She did not think the day would come so soon. Despite her replies to her brother that she would try to take some time off for a visit, she had never really intended to go through with it. Her hands balled into fists; her memories here would be different than the surreal nightmarish vision in KOS- MOS' Encephalon - but still more immediate, more raw, and more real.
Behind her, Allen shook slightly as the tension ebbed away. His knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the floor with a sigh of relief. Weakly, he raised his arm to block the piercing light and his eyes were automatically drawn toward Shion. A sense of unease settled over him as he noticed the stiff set of her back. She had always been an intensely private person, and in despair, he could not help but wonder whether she had ever opened up to Kevin and shared with him why the memories of her childhood plagued her so.
Ever silent and watchful, Ziggy leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, his eyes focused on MOMO as he reflected on the nearing end of his guardianship. Soon, it would be time to move on. His neural circuits would be replaced, and he would no longer feel the pain of being reminded of his stepson, of having someone to protect, of being needed - and failing. An end to the pain. An end to this existence. He should be delighted.
MOMO's eyes were drawn to the Proto Merkabah, its components burning up in their descent into the atmosphere. Was the Song of Nephilim burning too, she wondered. Were her sisters among those shooting stars and, in the space of these few heartbeats, breathtakingly alive? Would they be angry with her, if she was moved to tears at the sight of this magnificent spectacle? And as they turned to ashes and crumbled to dust, would they ride the wind forever?
A soft rustle of fabric told her that Jr. had moved next to her. A warm hand brushed against hers and she took it without turning around, feeling gratified that Jr.'s hand tightened around hers in return. But if she had looked over, she would have seen that his eyes, too, were fixed on the remnants of the monstrous facility. And she may have dared to break this almost-sacred silence, to ask him why he seemed so sad and angry and fearful at the same time. She didn't, however, and whatever answer Jr. might have grudgingly given was lost in the swirl of his turbulent thoughts.
And, enigmatic as ever, chaos simply stared, unfocused, at the floor. Only KOS-MOS was not hypnotized by her own thoughts, but even as she surveyed the people on the bridge, she did not possess the emotional perception to note with any curiosity that chaos seemed more anxious than relieved.
The blanket of silence was suddenly pierced by a loud buzz.
It was a strange dusk on Second Miltia. A man paused as he knelt before a gravestone and looked up at the red-tinted clouds. The sky seemed to be bursting in flame as showers of shooting stars rained down overhead. A ghostly form of a space ship suddenly appeared, gliding silently as if on invisible wings; a calm and unperturbed vision amidst the fiery display of the heavens.
***
Onboard the Elsa, things had quieted down a bit. Or rather, it was completely quiet. After the ecstatic celebratory mood that engulfed the group upon KOS-MOS' return to the bridge, a strangely draining sense of relief had washed over them as the impact of the day's events hit them hard. The Elsa cruised aimlessly as each person stared into the dying sunlight, lost in their own thoughts and memories.
Heels tapping eerily in the dead silence, Shion walked slowly to the front of the bridge.
Second Miltia.
She was back.
She did not think the day would come so soon. Despite her replies to her brother that she would try to take some time off for a visit, she had never really intended to go through with it. Her hands balled into fists; her memories here would be different than the surreal nightmarish vision in KOS- MOS' Encephalon - but still more immediate, more raw, and more real.
Behind her, Allen shook slightly as the tension ebbed away. His knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the floor with a sigh of relief. Weakly, he raised his arm to block the piercing light and his eyes were automatically drawn toward Shion. A sense of unease settled over him as he noticed the stiff set of her back. She had always been an intensely private person, and in despair, he could not help but wonder whether she had ever opened up to Kevin and shared with him why the memories of her childhood plagued her so.
Ever silent and watchful, Ziggy leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, his eyes focused on MOMO as he reflected on the nearing end of his guardianship. Soon, it would be time to move on. His neural circuits would be replaced, and he would no longer feel the pain of being reminded of his stepson, of having someone to protect, of being needed - and failing. An end to the pain. An end to this existence. He should be delighted.
MOMO's eyes were drawn to the Proto Merkabah, its components burning up in their descent into the atmosphere. Was the Song of Nephilim burning too, she wondered. Were her sisters among those shooting stars and, in the space of these few heartbeats, breathtakingly alive? Would they be angry with her, if she was moved to tears at the sight of this magnificent spectacle? And as they turned to ashes and crumbled to dust, would they ride the wind forever?
A soft rustle of fabric told her that Jr. had moved next to her. A warm hand brushed against hers and she took it without turning around, feeling gratified that Jr.'s hand tightened around hers in return. But if she had looked over, she would have seen that his eyes, too, were fixed on the remnants of the monstrous facility. And she may have dared to break this almost-sacred silence, to ask him why he seemed so sad and angry and fearful at the same time. She didn't, however, and whatever answer Jr. might have grudgingly given was lost in the swirl of his turbulent thoughts.
And, enigmatic as ever, chaos simply stared, unfocused, at the floor. Only KOS-MOS was not hypnotized by her own thoughts, but even as she surveyed the people on the bridge, she did not possess the emotional perception to note with any curiosity that chaos seemed more anxious than relieved.
The blanket of silence was suddenly pierced by a loud buzz.