ateliier
They each went their separate ways, Diem to where he belonged, rightful servant to the Prime Minister of his world, ready to continue the work his friend had begun. And Atlus; to the cold depths of a ready and waiting cell on a prisoner planet, just on the outskirts of the furthest galaxy.
His price to pay for paving the way to the current revolution.
There is no freedom for us here. We are lied to, cheated on and stolen from; all from the same people who claim to be doing what is right for us in the very same breath.
Do they think they themselves are saved from the very act they attempt to impose on others? When will they realize that the same restrictions they try to place on us affect them as well?
How is it that they sleep at night? Is it on a bed of worthless green paper and false claims?
How long until liberty is nothing more than a long forgotten dream, held onto only by those already gone?
He stood, pulling himself as upright as best he could, gathering his strength as he hefted his sword from the ground with one hand, and his shield in the other. His breath was hot and heavy, seen clearly in the cool crisp air; his muscles strained, the snow crunching beneath his feet as he tried his damnedest to stand his ground.
Glaring off into the distance at the figure that made its way toward him, he steadied and straightened himself, digging his feet into the ground, inhaling sharply as the it swooped down just close enough.
Close enough for him to bellow, "FUS RO DAH!"
There had to have been others. There had to have been.
For him to be accepted into this position, so early -- so young -- it was truly hysterical. He himself would laugh if the situation wasn't so dire. How could he hope to take up this large task? So much was at stake here.
It had to have been a mistake.
"Stop that." He said as his friend hovered just behind him.
"Come on, let me. I just wanna help you out a bit. You're so tense."
"You spilled flour everywhere, broke the carton of eggs and managed to burn boiling water." He sighed heavily, "You're not helping."
He waggled his eyebrows and grinned, "Yeah, well, I wasn't talking about with the food."