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located in The Skycity of Revelation, a part of Revelation: The Cure, one of the many universes on RPG.

The Skycity of Revelation



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District Beta
It was all finally over. Despite the heavy losses, it was all over. Objectively, she felt it was an overall victory. The only person she felt an actual connection toward during this whole crazy war was Hera, but the loss of Forgefire- the old man who acknowledged her skill and knew her master had shaken her to the core. Being a girl on the run, she had few idols. Two of them had passed away, but luckily for her that was the worst that had happened. The chaos down at District Alpha was almost a blur to her- the cordial invitations to lavish funerals that she would never have. Scheherazade had the kid now, the whore had abaonded her too. Was it destined that her master's past be shrouded from her forevermore? Maybe it was better that way. The laid her flowers, said her words, but in the end she had somewhere else to be.

The ruins of the once grand Forgefire Estate was in the process of reconstruction, even in these dark times. Work must go on. Standing in front of the fenced off area, the blonde girl tipped her hat low. Under her breath, she chatted under her breath, recounting what had happened since his death. Smiling slightly, she dropped an empty vial onto the street, and crushed it under her strong shoes into a fine powder. She took off, ready to finally do what she had really wanted to do growing up in this damned city. And maybe then settling down at last.

District Alpha

The young nobleman could remember very little. Even as he crashed to the ground, his life spilling out of his body with each throb of his angry heart he only saw a rush of fabric and a pressure on his leg somewhere before he thought no more. He woke up days later, one of the many noblemen trapped and wrapped in white linen due to Gilgamesh's madness. His own personal physician scolded him, and rightfully so. A fool, he was to think that such a trial would have gone without treachery- to worry his friends due to his carelessness and naivety. Another few years off his lifespan, it seemed. It was a grim prediction by his physician, but Taylor was happy. He had once again turned away the Grey Rider and his scythe.

His stay in the infirmary had kept Taylor thinking. Even as Safrina brought Siri for occasional visits, even as the days leading down to the funerals ticked closer. Eos, the masked doctor, Forgefire, even Loki constantly raided his thoughts. Possibilities played out in his head as the nobleman became more and more restless. Compounded with bad news as well, the death of Queen Blackwood and Pandora only served to depress the young nobleman even further. Though he never got to know the young healer well, she had saved his life last year and he had yet to personally thank her with the busy schedule. Taylor gave his own little monologue over the bright mage's grave, whispers of regret leaving him in the quiet form of a single teardrop.

Queen Minerva's funeral was much more somber. Struggle as the group of misfits did, it was her that kept the order in her reign, a skill and wisdom that few could ever hope to attain. Despite his protests, he could not dress appropriately for fear that his frail frame could not handle such stuffy suit. A fitting funeral was held, fit for a queen one might say. Even as he laid the black chrysanthemum on her elegant casket, despite her dubious past, as implied by Eos, none of it really mattered now.

Struggling from the sea of white when the day came, Taylor dressed simply- clad in a thick white shirt and trousers. With the assistance of a walking stick, he managed to make it to his seat every time. Loki was at each one, almost dutifully so despite the traumatic events she had endured over the past few weeks. It wasn't so secret that she had personally assisted in slowing the blood that left his body during that dark day, and despite his best efforts, he couldn't help but feel he owed something to her, once again. The idea of friendship came easily to Taylor, but here was a young girl of comparable age rescuing him when he needed it most. He couldn't help but feel, especially in his drug-addled state. It tormented him, but with recent events, the young nobleman knew better. The feelings were quashed, even as they rose. It was selfish, to think that he was entitled to somebody like her. It was selfish to even have such thoughts on such somber days. Besides, he had Siri's future to ensure. It would be difficult explaining why Loki had changed the way she did, but in time he would understand, and hopefully never go through the same thing.

It was ultimately futile to think that Taylor could escape the life of politics. The blood of his youth cried for drastic reform, and experience showed that Parliament was not quite competent enough to deal with it themselves. It would only be a day after Parliament reopened it's doors that Taylor attended once more, unable to wrench himself free from the sea of words that he had worked so hard to sail on. Because Loki had to take over for the late Queen Minerva, Taylor knew that he had to have all the power he could get. Claiming Gilgamesh's seat as his own, he vowed that things would change.

Starting now.