(Please, if anyone is interested in some rp, feel free to join.)
Shallow breathing comes forth. Spreading the fog of warm air outwards before it dissipates against the helmet resting on the metallic box before the man. His blue eyes staring into the visor as thoughts of previous firefights race through his cerebrum. The screams and cries of both sides as they lose close friends and, perhaps, family to the conflicting tenets of both parties.
Within moments, his mind goes to the stinging of the cold environment clinging to his flesh. Clutching the icy white skin of his face. They never tell you how cold it is in space. In the books and heroic adventures of past Legends, there's only the warm tales of their happy life as a soldier. It's not until you move to become like your childhood hero that you feel the cold. It comes at you like a heap of rakghoul. The claws of death attempting over and over to drag you into the depths of its realm. It's not until you seen the terrors of war, do you truly understand; those stories from your childhood all come with a price. A byproduct of heroic deeds during war.
The stretching of leather surpasses the cold silence. Etilus fist balling up before releasing the tension brought forth by delicate memories of battle. Inhaling a deep breath before exhaling the built up anxiety. In a soft tone, his voice creeps through his soft lips.
"Graveyard shift always seems the longest..."
Rolling his neck slightly, Etilus leans forward onto his hands that clasp together, interlocking the fingers just beneath his chin. With a heavy sigh, he sits in deep thought that occurs behind the harden gaze of his blue eyes.
Shallow breathing comes forth. Spreading the fog of warm air outwards before it dissipates against the helmet resting on the metallic box before the man. His blue eyes staring into the visor as thoughts of previous firefights race through his cerebrum. The screams and cries of both sides as they lose close friends and, perhaps, family to the conflicting tenets of both parties.
Within moments, his mind goes to the stinging of the cold environment clinging to his flesh. Clutching the icy white skin of his face. They never tell you how cold it is in space. In the books and heroic adventures of past Legends, there's only the warm tales of their happy life as a soldier. It's not until you move to become like your childhood hero that you feel the cold. It comes at you like a heap of rakghoul. The claws of death attempting over and over to drag you into the depths of its realm. It's not until you seen the terrors of war, do you truly understand; those stories from your childhood all come with a price. A byproduct of heroic deeds during war.
The stretching of leather surpasses the cold silence. Etilus fist balling up before releasing the tension brought forth by delicate memories of battle. Inhaling a deep breath before exhaling the built up anxiety. In a soft tone, his voice creeps through his soft lips.
"Graveyard shift always seems the longest..."
Rolling his neck slightly, Etilus leans forward onto his hands that clasp together, interlocking the fingers just beneath his chin. With a heavy sigh, he sits in deep thought that occurs behind the harden gaze of his blue eyes.
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