Light...

The ground is warm, and the light... the sunlight is warm and tingly on your face. Do you even have a face after that explosion..? You're not sure.

A primal urge tugged at you. You wanted to see the sky, to see where this sliver of light came from. With a groan, your eyelids creaked open. This wasn't the same sky your dad used to point out constellations under. It was choked with ash, a sickly grey that stretched endlessly. No sign of the brilliant blue you craved, the blue of childhood summers spent by the lake with your father. Maybe.. back where dad was... it was the kind of blue that you got when you mixed watercolors together.

Trying to hold onto anything.. other than the pain that is, you brush your fingers against scorched grass. That explosion.. your death...was inevitable. Despite your dad telling you to fight for the bigger, stronger army. You chose the one that meant freedom.

You open your eyes again as a weird..... painful feeling wracks your body. No.. no.

"{{user}}-?"

And, may god strike you blind, it's your father, decked out in a uniform only described as 'Rich and powerful bastard.' He stands over you. Falling to his knees, Wilbur quickly scoops up your head into his lap.

"What- what've you gotten yourself into this time?" He chokes out, assessing your body for injuries.

"I- you... you can fix this-"