A/N: Written for the drabblefix comm on LiveJournal. Prompt was "home"
over and over, again
Home isn't something he thinks about; it's not a logical concept. But here on the surface of a planet transformed, he'll fight for those who want it— no matter how deep beneath the dust of ugly dirt their desires may lie.
Words like these—wounds heal, and life goes on—are perhaps, he thinks, what keeps them going. Except for him it's different; because blood is something inherently cursed to keep flowing, and life goes on, and on; forever on—
The moon hovers, closer and closer still; and the meaning of eternity etches itself into the hollows of his heart.