Erik.
It's war.
War, such a beautiful thing. An art form, no less. The vengeance it took to raise up that much stone, the hatred conveyed as the tip of a pyramid breached the surface, it was satisfying to watch. It was a promise being fulfilled; it was the humans paying for what they did — everything they did — to him. To his family. And finally. Finally, they were getting what they deserved.
The anger that built up inside of him all the years of his existence, it was only buried for the ten years away. Hidden, lost, out-of-mind, but not gone.
Oh yes, it was still there. And it spurred him on, it tinged his vision.
The Apocalypse was right; these humans had to die.
x
Charles.
It's ruin.
Ruin, such a horrifying thing. And yet, he couldn't tear his gaze away. His eyes fell on the rubble, the sand, the clear hatred conveyed, and he longed he could do anything but look upon it. Desolation; what was this world coming to? He almost always had a reason to hope, to believe the world would pull together and defeat the threat. Destroy it. Annihilate it —
How ironic it was. All this talk of saving the earth, and they would need to destroy another — someone who, behind those intents and feelings, was just the same as the rest of them.
Anyone striped to their core would be the same, Charles, he chided. But he couldn't help the shiver that ran through his body.
All this talk of saving the world, and one must destroy the threat in order to do so.
He didn't shut his eyes; all he could do was watch. Watch. Watch and hope…
Hope was losing this battle.
Was this how Erik felt?