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dragonsorcsandwolvesRob couldn't remember leaving the house, nor why he had picked the park with the creek to walk to, but that was where he found himself when he became conscious of his surroundings once more. It was the sound of the flowing water that pulled him back; the first sound he had heard since he'd finally returned to Earth and found it dead. He dropped onto a bench facing the creek and flipped back the head of his wolf pelt to stare blankly at the running water through his own eyes.
He felt like an idiot for having argued that they shouldn't assume that what had happened to the Bastion's world had happened to the other worlds; that the only parts of their worlds that had been affected by the Calamity had been the fragments that had shown up in that world. He'd convinced himself that the Calamity had done nothing more than devastate the Bastion's world and draw chunks of land from other worlds, some of which had had people on them.
This was the Calamity; a disaster that had cleansed dozens, if not hundreds of worlds of all life. Sure, he could tell himself that only this part of Earth had been affected, but he saw no point in that. He'd already seen that the only people in this world he actually cared about were dead; why would he pin any hopes on the slim chance that some random strangers had survived somewhere?
He suddenly understood the reactions of the other people who had come to the Bastion, what they must have been feeling all this time. Everyone he'd ever known for the first 25 years of his life was dead. For the first time he truly thought about the idea that he would never see any of them ever again. The realization prompted a feeling of loss that made his face contort in preparation for an enormous sob. Then he felt... nothing. There was just emptiness where he felt like he should be feeling something more. The realization filled him with self-loathing; how could he not feel sadness at so many deaths? At the deaths of his mother, sister, and friends? What kind of heartless person did that make him? Didn't he care about them at all? How could he be such a terrible person?
His thoughts went in circles, reminding him of all kinds of things he'd done that proved how horrible a person he was: times when he hadn't greeted friends when he'd seen them, the time he'd stared at Zuko's scar, the times when he'd ignored Ibuki, all the times he'd left dirty dishes in the sink for his mother to wash instead of doing them himself...
Tears began to flow again and Rob bent over until his forehead was almost touching his knees. For a moment he felt nothing but ever-increasing anguish, only for the practical part of his mind to take over and focus on basic survival tasks.
He flipped the head of his wolf pelt over his own and stood. The weight of the pelt on his head and shoulders was comforting. The pelt's forelegs felt good resting on his bare chest. The various sensations of his current clothes and armor against his skin were all feelings he associated with being in his warrior mindset. Despite all the exposed skin, he felt safe in his warrior gear, like he could take on the world.
A world with no one else in it.
He shuddered for a moment at that thought and forced himself to stand up straight with his head held high. He set off for his house, thoughts of what food and supplies he should salvage crowding out his previous thoughts.
He stepped into the house and slumped against the wall when he caught a glimpse of the ash statue of his mother in the living room. Without stopping to think, he turned and headed upstairs instead. His bedroom was just as he'd left it that morning over a year ago when he'd ended up in the Bastion instead of at the game store.
The day everyone on this world died.
Out of habit he turned on his computer. An alarm sounded from the battery backup, indicating that it wasn't getting any power from the outlet. The computer joined in on the beeping as the monitor displayed jumbled nonsense instead of the startup screens. He quickly turned everything off and tried to slow his heart-rate after the sudden noise. A quick check of the various handheld consoles sitting on his desk gave similar results; everything electronic was fried.
He turned in place and scanned the room. What should he take? What was worth taking? The idea of continuing to live in this house wasn't even on the table after the renewed shock of seeing his dead mother, but he found he didn't care about most of the objects he'd accumulated over his life on Earth enough to bother bringing them with him.
Another scan of the room. His books? He had something close to the complete works of humanity in his datascroll, but he still stuffed his favorites into his satchel of holding. His Magic cards? There was no point; there was nobody to play against anymore. He grabbed the binder with his favorites anyways. He went through his desk drawers and took his toolkits and writing supplies. The bottom drawer contained his high school diploma and honor roll certificates, framed and ready to be hung. He closed that drawer without a second thought; it contained nothing he valued.
He looked up from the desk drawers and his gaze caught on the Rehgar Earthfury figurine standing next to the monitor. He picked it up and stared at it for a few moments: a barechested orc wearing a wolf pelt on his head, a hide kilt, sandals, gauntlets, and enormous shoulder armor, head thrown back in a roar.
Strength, wisdom, and honor, eh? Like I was ever gonna be able to match an orc. I can still barely last one little battle.
Rob felt tears start to well up beneath the wolf pelt and shoved the figurine into his satchel. He turned and grabbed the wolf and dragon figures from atop his bookshelves and scanned the room one last time, but saw nothing more worth taking.
He grabbed some towels and heavier blankets from the linen closet and paused in front of his sister's room. Was there anything to be gained by entering? No. He opened the door anyways.
Makeup, jewelry, creepy-looking dolls, books, various odds and ends... All symbols of how little he understood her anymore and how they'd drifted away over the years. There was nothing here that would be useful to him.
His gaze came to rest on her bedside table, where a battered stuffed Holstein cow leaned against the lamp. He remembered that toy. He'd given it to her soon after she was born, after having read in one of his mother's child development books that babies were only able to see black and white for their first few weeks. She'd kept it all this time.
Rob felt tears on their way again and shoved his sister's favorite toy into his satchel as he hurried out of the room.
Now that he'd set a precedent with his sister's room, his mother's room was next. Most of what was inside was meaningless to him, but he took the various photographs and, on impulse, his mother's jewelry box. The box wouldn't fit through the opening of his satchel, so he carried it downstairs, planning on putting it into his portal staff.
Going downstairs meant that there was no longer any way to avoid the question of what to do with the remains of his mother and sister. He couldn't bring himself to just leave them behind, but it wasn't like he had any urns kicking around to put their ashes in. Some searching turned up a couple of large Tupperware containers, which he set down next to the ash statues while he put off dealing with the issue and headed to the basement.
Further searching turned up the box containing the remaining camping supplies: dishes, cookware, and a portable stove. They didn't look like how he'd remembered them. He couldn't remember when the last time he'd seen them was, though he guessed that it would have been the last family camping trip before his parents had divorced. He couldn't remember how long ago that had been. Over a decade by now, at the very least. He carried the box upstairs and set it down on the front porch next to the jewelry box. The only useful things left were in the living room and kitchen, which meant that there was no way to put off dealing with the ash statues now.
He couldn't bear to look at either of them as he filled the containers with their ashes and put them on the porch. When he was done, his hands and gauntlets were coated in ash. Looking at them, he had the random thought that wished the ash was blood instead; the ash was just depressing in a way that nothing else could have been.
The remaining salvaging was a blur as he gathered up canned food, packaged food, bottled water, a can opener, photographs, some of his mother's favorite books, and, without even considering opening them, the photo albums.
"Medivh"
The command word to activate his portal staff felt strange to speak; it felt like an eternity since he'd last used his vocal cords. The portal itself took longer than usual to form and didn't look particularly healthy once it had. Rob emptied his satchel of the various odds and ends he'd salvaged both here and elsewhere, stowing them inside the staff and keeping only the more immediately-useful items on hand. He picked up the staff and the portal closed faster than usual. He stowed the staff in his satchel and turned to take one last look at the house.
He felt nothing as he stared at it: no nostalgia, no sadness, no grief. It was a house. A house that he hadn't lived in for over a year. It wasn't his home anymore. It hadn't really been his home for a while already. All it was was a house.
He turned his back on it and started walking.
One more task remained. As much as he didn't want to deal with the experience, Rob couldn't bring himself to just ignore his friends' ash statues and headed back to the game store to collect their ashes as well, raiding some nearby stores for containers. On impulse he grabbed their backpacks and tossed them into the portal staff, which looked significantly less healthy than it had earlier. In another situation he might have seen what else he could scavenge from the various stores, but right now he didn't want to spend any more time in a familiar place filled with dead people.
When he left he this time he didn't look back.
He felt like an idiot for having argued that they shouldn't assume that what had happened to the Bastion's world had happened to the other worlds; that the only parts of their worlds that had been affected by the Calamity had been the fragments that had shown up in that world. He'd convinced himself that the Calamity had done nothing more than devastate the Bastion's world and draw chunks of land from other worlds, some of which had had people on them.
This was the Calamity; a disaster that had cleansed dozens, if not hundreds of worlds of all life. Sure, he could tell himself that only this part of Earth had been affected, but he saw no point in that. He'd already seen that the only people in this world he actually cared about were dead; why would he pin any hopes on the slim chance that some random strangers had survived somewhere?
He suddenly understood the reactions of the other people who had come to the Bastion, what they must have been feeling all this time. Everyone he'd ever known for the first 25 years of his life was dead. For the first time he truly thought about the idea that he would never see any of them ever again. The realization prompted a feeling of loss that made his face contort in preparation for an enormous sob. Then he felt... nothing. There was just emptiness where he felt like he should be feeling something more. The realization filled him with self-loathing; how could he not feel sadness at so many deaths? At the deaths of his mother, sister, and friends? What kind of heartless person did that make him? Didn't he care about them at all? How could he be such a terrible person?
His thoughts went in circles, reminding him of all kinds of things he'd done that proved how horrible a person he was: times when he hadn't greeted friends when he'd seen them, the time he'd stared at Zuko's scar, the times when he'd ignored Ibuki, all the times he'd left dirty dishes in the sink for his mother to wash instead of doing them himself...
Tears began to flow again and Rob bent over until his forehead was almost touching his knees. For a moment he felt nothing but ever-increasing anguish, only for the practical part of his mind to take over and focus on basic survival tasks.
He flipped the head of his wolf pelt over his own and stood. The weight of the pelt on his head and shoulders was comforting. The pelt's forelegs felt good resting on his bare chest. The various sensations of his current clothes and armor against his skin were all feelings he associated with being in his warrior mindset. Despite all the exposed skin, he felt safe in his warrior gear, like he could take on the world.
A world with no one else in it.
He shuddered for a moment at that thought and forced himself to stand up straight with his head held high. He set off for his house, thoughts of what food and supplies he should salvage crowding out his previous thoughts.
He stepped into the house and slumped against the wall when he caught a glimpse of the ash statue of his mother in the living room. Without stopping to think, he turned and headed upstairs instead. His bedroom was just as he'd left it that morning over a year ago when he'd ended up in the Bastion instead of at the game store.
The day everyone on this world died.
Out of habit he turned on his computer. An alarm sounded from the battery backup, indicating that it wasn't getting any power from the outlet. The computer joined in on the beeping as the monitor displayed jumbled nonsense instead of the startup screens. He quickly turned everything off and tried to slow his heart-rate after the sudden noise. A quick check of the various handheld consoles sitting on his desk gave similar results; everything electronic was fried.
He turned in place and scanned the room. What should he take? What was worth taking? The idea of continuing to live in this house wasn't even on the table after the renewed shock of seeing his dead mother, but he found he didn't care about most of the objects he'd accumulated over his life on Earth enough to bother bringing them with him.
Another scan of the room. His books? He had something close to the complete works of humanity in his datascroll, but he still stuffed his favorites into his satchel of holding. His Magic cards? There was no point; there was nobody to play against anymore. He grabbed the binder with his favorites anyways. He went through his desk drawers and took his toolkits and writing supplies. The bottom drawer contained his high school diploma and honor roll certificates, framed and ready to be hung. He closed that drawer without a second thought; it contained nothing he valued.
He looked up from the desk drawers and his gaze caught on the Rehgar Earthfury figurine standing next to the monitor. He picked it up and stared at it for a few moments: a barechested orc wearing a wolf pelt on his head, a hide kilt, sandals, gauntlets, and enormous shoulder armor, head thrown back in a roar.
Strength, wisdom, and honor, eh? Like I was ever gonna be able to match an orc. I can still barely last one little battle.
Rob felt tears start to well up beneath the wolf pelt and shoved the figurine into his satchel. He turned and grabbed the wolf and dragon figures from atop his bookshelves and scanned the room one last time, but saw nothing more worth taking.
He grabbed some towels and heavier blankets from the linen closet and paused in front of his sister's room. Was there anything to be gained by entering? No. He opened the door anyways.
Makeup, jewelry, creepy-looking dolls, books, various odds and ends... All symbols of how little he understood her anymore and how they'd drifted away over the years. There was nothing here that would be useful to him.
His gaze came to rest on her bedside table, where a battered stuffed Holstein cow leaned against the lamp. He remembered that toy. He'd given it to her soon after she was born, after having read in one of his mother's child development books that babies were only able to see black and white for their first few weeks. She'd kept it all this time.
Rob felt tears on their way again and shoved his sister's favorite toy into his satchel as he hurried out of the room.
Now that he'd set a precedent with his sister's room, his mother's room was next. Most of what was inside was meaningless to him, but he took the various photographs and, on impulse, his mother's jewelry box. The box wouldn't fit through the opening of his satchel, so he carried it downstairs, planning on putting it into his portal staff.
Going downstairs meant that there was no longer any way to avoid the question of what to do with the remains of his mother and sister. He couldn't bring himself to just leave them behind, but it wasn't like he had any urns kicking around to put their ashes in. Some searching turned up a couple of large Tupperware containers, which he set down next to the ash statues while he put off dealing with the issue and headed to the basement.
Further searching turned up the box containing the remaining camping supplies: dishes, cookware, and a portable stove. They didn't look like how he'd remembered them. He couldn't remember when the last time he'd seen them was, though he guessed that it would have been the last family camping trip before his parents had divorced. He couldn't remember how long ago that had been. Over a decade by now, at the very least. He carried the box upstairs and set it down on the front porch next to the jewelry box. The only useful things left were in the living room and kitchen, which meant that there was no way to put off dealing with the ash statues now.
He couldn't bear to look at either of them as he filled the containers with their ashes and put them on the porch. When he was done, his hands and gauntlets were coated in ash. Looking at them, he had the random thought that wished the ash was blood instead; the ash was just depressing in a way that nothing else could have been.
The remaining salvaging was a blur as he gathered up canned food, packaged food, bottled water, a can opener, photographs, some of his mother's favorite books, and, without even considering opening them, the photo albums.
"Medivh"
The command word to activate his portal staff felt strange to speak; it felt like an eternity since he'd last used his vocal cords. The portal itself took longer than usual to form and didn't look particularly healthy once it had. Rob emptied his satchel of the various odds and ends he'd salvaged both here and elsewhere, stowing them inside the staff and keeping only the more immediately-useful items on hand. He picked up the staff and the portal closed faster than usual. He stowed the staff in his satchel and turned to take one last look at the house.
He felt nothing as he stared at it: no nostalgia, no sadness, no grief. It was a house. A house that he hadn't lived in for over a year. It wasn't his home anymore. It hadn't really been his home for a while already. All it was was a house.
He turned his back on it and started walking.
One more task remained. As much as he didn't want to deal with the experience, Rob couldn't bring himself to just ignore his friends' ash statues and headed back to the game store to collect their ashes as well, raiding some nearby stores for containers. On impulse he grabbed their backpacks and tossed them into the portal staff, which looked significantly less healthy than it had earlier. In another situation he might have seen what else he could scavenge from the various stores, but right now he didn't want to spend any more time in a familiar place filled with dead people.
When he left he this time he didn't look back.
