Rest forced by physical exertion and the lack of illumination, no objections sounded as the entire city is placed under the great veil of death.

Judge Murphy’s consciousness gives into his biology, a body taking the opportunity to slam the entire system into the abyss of sleep. A dreamless existence, nervous system brought to the point of near-failure through almost two days of continuous operation. Uncomfortable mattress and the knowledge of proximal danger unable to outweigh the requirements of humankind, a willpower failing into the darkness.

Samantha sleeps as her sibling remains sitting cross legged next to her, a watchful eye remaining atop all forms as a meditation is left to its own devices. Scriptures and history texts read in the libraries processed by augmentation and a centered consciousness; a self interpretation of prophetic quests and ancient tales taken from his memory in an attempt to piece together the history of the world through the shards of broken glass. A kobari streak to his mental processes, Samuel’s journey through the history of humankind strife with lost fragments and religious implications. He tries to tie it all together with the being at the midst of them all, trying to find meaning in a world beneath dead gods.

The two humans just try to sleep in their own positions, a discomfort from poor housing preventing the true depths of rest.

Madeline McCormick lies there on the cold flooring within her duster jacket, a wandering mind bringing itself into the past as she remembers it. A circumstance unplanned, yet an interesting distraction at the present. A gang of four left somewhere in the world, thieves in a godless world still in the midst of an escape; thinking the same thoughts as an absent leader.

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Alto Carrin wrestles with it all: the faithful attempting to reconcile a new status in a world of contradictions and a prophecy come to fruition. The prayers of a billion come before, the desperate pleas of all humankind burdened upon five shoulders; and his among them. A scripture carving its way through to a modernized reality, one singular verse spoken by Alina transferred through the eons of dust and decay. Wisdom from her alone, a betrayer’s love for mortals below filled with the regrets befitting of gods above.

Make all your promises with love, and in those promises show the trust you have for those around you.

It still stands there, a point in the world.

A created soul processing the emotions welling up within a broken system, the mind stopped as he sees the predicted events to come.

He feels it, transceivers crafted within the humanoid form finding a signal call.

Something stirring within the depths of the city called March, something as ancient as the very being itself awakening. Reborn as something more, a plan laid for a hundred generations coming to fruition at the present.

The mind behind empires, of genocides uncounted; something so dangerous it cannot exist in the world of faith and broken minds.

Ar identifies this emotion; created from the fragmented codebase of his very existence:

The cold rage of vengeance.