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Tower of Animus | Epilogue
Sep. 2nd, 2014 08:25 pmIt's all gone in a flash. The machine; Zo and Ruana; everyone he's met in the Tower, everyone he cares so deeply about. When he can see straight again, he's right back where he was before all this began. At home, on his balcony. Wine glass in hand, Eiffel Tower with a backdrop of starlight in the distance.
He drops to his knees and starts to weep.
--
The sun is high in the sky by the time he pulls himself to his feet. He blinks awake, the stone of the balcony hard under his back, and for a moment, he's seized up with terror, thinking he's back in some cell in the Tower.
But no.
That's his sun in the sky, burning bright and vibrant and warm. That's his tower, standing proud as ever. That's his city, his heart, his Paris, swarmed with his people, with the thousands of people from other countries crowded here just to see his sights, and they're all alive, they're alive, they're alive.
He barely pauses to splash water on his face before he streaks outside. He's not wearing any shoes. Oh well, his feet will heal. He looks like a madman, running barefoot through the streets of Paris, embracing total strangers and laying affectionate kisses on their cheeks, but he doesn't care. For the first time in far too long, his heart feels like it's beating again.
--
He visits the entirety of his country as fast as is physically possible. The mountains of Auvergne, the rivers of Champagne-Ardenne. Plains and woods and beaches and hills. All of it alive, lush, beautiful.
But he spends much of that time enjoying the company of the people who live on that land. He greets them, he embraces them, and, if they're willing to lend an ear, he has a story to tell them. With old men and women by a warm fire, by groups of rowdy children grabbing at his legs, with tourists and locals alike.
"This," he says, with a twinkle in his eye, "is the tale of a boy named Zo."
And, with great care, he passes on Zo's legacy. A boy with powers unimaginable, who only wanted to use them for good. A boy who could bend the world to his will, but who never thought of himself as a god. A boy who - "Yes, yes, I am telling the truth, you need not doubt your own country," - gave up everything so that he could save the world, all in the blink of an eye.
"And if you keep someone here, in your heart," he finishes, with a hand over his chest, where he knows millions of little twinkling souls are contained, "...they will never truly die."
He drops to his knees and starts to weep.
--
The sun is high in the sky by the time he pulls himself to his feet. He blinks awake, the stone of the balcony hard under his back, and for a moment, he's seized up with terror, thinking he's back in some cell in the Tower.
But no.
That's his sun in the sky, burning bright and vibrant and warm. That's his tower, standing proud as ever. That's his city, his heart, his Paris, swarmed with his people, with the thousands of people from other countries crowded here just to see his sights, and they're all alive, they're alive, they're alive.
He barely pauses to splash water on his face before he streaks outside. He's not wearing any shoes. Oh well, his feet will heal. He looks like a madman, running barefoot through the streets of Paris, embracing total strangers and laying affectionate kisses on their cheeks, but he doesn't care. For the first time in far too long, his heart feels like it's beating again.
--
He visits the entirety of his country as fast as is physically possible. The mountains of Auvergne, the rivers of Champagne-Ardenne. Plains and woods and beaches and hills. All of it alive, lush, beautiful.
But he spends much of that time enjoying the company of the people who live on that land. He greets them, he embraces them, and, if they're willing to lend an ear, he has a story to tell them. With old men and women by a warm fire, by groups of rowdy children grabbing at his legs, with tourists and locals alike.
"This," he says, with a twinkle in his eye, "is the tale of a boy named Zo."
And, with great care, he passes on Zo's legacy. A boy with powers unimaginable, who only wanted to use them for good. A boy who could bend the world to his will, but who never thought of himself as a god. A boy who - "Yes, yes, I am telling the truth, you need not doubt your own country," - gave up everything so that he could save the world, all in the blink of an eye.
"And if you keep someone here, in your heart," he finishes, with a hand over his chest, where he knows millions of little twinkling souls are contained, "...they will never truly die."