Norian Embassy
Ayenee Capital City, Ayenee Prime
Rivaen Eitan stood in front of the massive arched transparent pane that looked out over the sea of skyscrapers, flashy neon advertisements, and the night skyline of the Ayenee Capital. The young man couldn't help the last time he had been on Ayenee. He had laid on the floor in front of that window with a coloring book and crayons while his father had completed plans for an attempt to take back Noria when it was first invaded by the Craethel. Everything had changed, Noria had been destroyed, and he was no longer a boy with innocent eyes towards the universe or the horrors of war; the niranium sigils that formed an echelon across his collar were proof of that. He ran his fingers back through the platinum white short buzzed hair, the slender points twitched as his fingers brushed past.
All that was is no more. There was something off about Ayenee; not that Rivaen had a poor opinion of the world or the fact that the Norian settlement at Surrune had not taken part in the war, that was strategy and survival. It felt too clean, too wondrous for its own good. Maybe he just was not used to being safe. In the aftermath, there had been only confusion. A list of his siblings and Ysi scrabbled over what they left behind. The Laeyrian Commonwealth had made apologies for their cooperation with the forces of Morggho, their bedding with the Craethel, Quell, and other tribes that had invaded. How much was an apology worth? A billion? eight trillion? Even to him, the numbers were just numbers now. The tangible part was empty chairs and lost voices.
As the raindrops pattered against the pane, a soft whimper came from the bassinet that was next to the desk, and Rivaen turned around and gazed towards the slowly rocking bed where his son laid. He couldn't help but think back on the argument that he had with his parents when he and Haeun had gotten together. Such childish things seemed so unimportant now; he picked the young boy from his cradle and held him against his shoulder and lightly bounced in his step as the baby cried. The office was dark; the shadows clung to the bookshelves and museum-like display cases. "Shhh Icero...shhh, don't worry they will find her...your grandfather promised," he said.
Ayenee Capital City, Ayenee Prime
Rivaen Eitan stood in front of the massive arched transparent pane that looked out over the sea of skyscrapers, flashy neon advertisements, and the night skyline of the Ayenee Capital. The young man couldn't help the last time he had been on Ayenee. He had laid on the floor in front of that window with a coloring book and crayons while his father had completed plans for an attempt to take back Noria when it was first invaded by the Craethel. Everything had changed, Noria had been destroyed, and he was no longer a boy with innocent eyes towards the universe or the horrors of war; the niranium sigils that formed an echelon across his collar were proof of that. He ran his fingers back through the platinum white short buzzed hair, the slender points twitched as his fingers brushed past.
All that was is no more. There was something off about Ayenee; not that Rivaen had a poor opinion of the world or the fact that the Norian settlement at Surrune had not taken part in the war, that was strategy and survival. It felt too clean, too wondrous for its own good. Maybe he just was not used to being safe. In the aftermath, there had been only confusion. A list of his siblings and Ysi scrabbled over what they left behind. The Laeyrian Commonwealth had made apologies for their cooperation with the forces of Morggho, their bedding with the Craethel, Quell, and other tribes that had invaded. How much was an apology worth? A billion? eight trillion? Even to him, the numbers were just numbers now. The tangible part was empty chairs and lost voices.
As the raindrops pattered against the pane, a soft whimper came from the bassinet that was next to the desk, and Rivaen turned around and gazed towards the slowly rocking bed where his son laid. He couldn't help but think back on the argument that he had with his parents when he and Haeun had gotten together. Such childish things seemed so unimportant now; he picked the young boy from his cradle and held him against his shoulder and lightly bounced in his step as the baby cried. The office was dark; the shadows clung to the bookshelves and museum-like display cases. "Shhh Icero...shhh, don't worry they will find her...your grandfather promised," he said.
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