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Δ "Hm." He grunts to himself in the dark. Dark enough that he can barely make out his drink, the rim scarcely illuminated by the lights of the city distant through the window. The dark, at least, made the sensation stronger. It used to feel wider. A bit. The city, that is. A city that felt bigger. Full of people. All ghosts now. A tiny city. Full of bodies.He feels frission up the back of his neck as he fails again to find a way to release the thoughts. The feelings. The...?His index taps rythmetically on the glass.Tink.Tink....Tink, tink.It's something that comes easier to other people, he thinks. Maybe that's why he's left alone. He licks his bottom lip, chasing it with fangs and dragging as silver eyes fixate on no particular nebulous concept found in the tile of the apartment floor.He hums thoughtfully again and looks out to the little city. Such aesthetic suffering, he thinks to himself when he notices it begin to rain, as it often did this time of year.And smiles lop-sided despite himself, exhaling tersely in a lazy laugh as he moves to finish his drink. "Look at you." He mutters, distorted, into the glass.----------Δ Mumbai was always hot and humid, even this time of night. He thinks he doesn't mind as he slides the way open to the patio.And pads over to the rail.He hasn't smoked in years, but tonight, he would. It reminded him.And you should never forget your past, he thinks, as the smoke vanishes, quickly dissipating. Present, but particles scattered so vastly they become invisible.He furrows his brows thoughtfully, exhaling to watch it all over again.You need to be more like that. Less... loyal to the memory. Could be time to give up, don't you think? It's not worth it anymore. Just, stop fighting, alright? You slept through the revolution and now you hate being on the losing side.Tough, David. Tough. He monologues internally to himself as he takes another drag.And looks down at the city. Still alive even in the dark. It defied the night. Magnificent and powerful. It was Diwali tonight. Even the horizon seemed to be on fire with the wishes for good to triumph over evil. To some, maybe he was that evil.He thinks... Maybe he's been fighting for too long. -----------Δ David thinks he loved him.What else do you call that feeling?He'd be lying if, when he looked at him, he didn't see him as his. He felt powerful. Powerful enough to bestow anything. Love, power, ability, future, progress.I made you a god. Hercules, Achilles, Adonis, Apollo; All would have counted you among them. I would have carved that same angel from the marble had the universe given me a sculptor's hand.He thinks.And thinks again.That he knows what's best. Set the details aside and focus on that distant horizon of opal skyscrapers and human achievement. Driving fast enough and fast enough that the details blur and blur and-- He could look to the side and expect him and everyone else to be there only to see a wash of blood and bodies behind him. Do you really think that of yourself?That many voices in a cacophany of dissension can't be wrong, yeah?Oh... Things must be pretty bad if we're going there, David. He draws his lips and looks down pensively.He seemed so unhappy. So lost. So... Well, god, remember that look he gave you? The son you never had. The son you found. Saved. Created. Destroyed. Catostrophically. With fire. Then water. And whatever came after that.-----------Δ He thinks he can find the feeling somewhere else.He thinks... He can be proud of someone else. And maybe destroy them too....Stop that.-----------