Trowa's bangs, highlighted bronze, fell into his vision; through the split-end strands he could keep lookout without the glare. He watched the pink-lined clouds and the red horizon line, straining his eyes against the bright, colourful sky.
It wouldn't matter what colour the sunset was, only that its position was tactically at a disadvantage. Heavyarms was hidden so the high noon sun would reveal nothing, and Trowa had planned to be long gone hours ago. He hadn't considered the glare that his Gundam – even as battered and dust-covered as it was – would reflect beneath the twilight. The same blaring light that was announcing Trowa's position was blinding him as well, despite his hair-turned-sunglasses.
At least it was a gorgeous sight, because he needed some compensation for leaving Heavyarms behind. He slipped into the shadows of dense trees as the Aeries landed. Some fading sunbeams fell through the branches, but once night fell, the forest would be a fine hiding place.
Sacrifices of metal in exchange for his life were easier than the trade-offs he'd had to make in blood. The good thing about leaving Heavyarms, too, was that it would wait for him.
So long as he returned to it.