PRELUDE
DAYBREAK FROM A LOST EON
"Why do the heavens choose to cry?"
Lawrence Sugil set the guitar aside and stared blankly at the sky — a void typically littered with stars, now fully hidden by a thick, endless veil of dark, silver clouds. Like artillery, raindrops pelted the building's facade with a thunderous constantness, like faint static echoing and bounding between the mess of Brutalist monoliths. From the fifteenth story of the Wilson Building, the city was but a spiky sea of concrete rolling over the land and into the horizon. In the heart of Base Beta's courtyard was the Grand Amphitheater, with the MEG insignia — the Aquila Aeterna — engraved into its center some decades ago, gracefully spreading its wings from one end of the courtyard to the other. From its angle, it now stared directly at Lawrence, glaring judgementally. The woman next to him glanced back at Lawrence with sarcastic concern.
"That's new. Something on your mind?"
Orianna Evesong sipped lightly from a mug of hot chocolate, sighed pleasingly, and set it down. Lawrence's apartment room was warm, lit mildly by a lightly saffron-tinted lamp in the corner. There was nothing special about the room, aside from perhaps a particularly homey atmosphere, which was a result of how many memories were made in this small space. Framed photos were scattered across the apartment, as were paintings and awards.
"It's from something the IMBH gifted us a few days ago," Lawrence replied. "An artifact, specifically. Apparently, it's from a really late era of the Lost's civilization, back when those gods were still around." He paused to think, closing his eyes shut. Collapsing onto the bed, he continued, "It's just stuck with me, I don't know why. It sounds like something you would write in some poetic prose, but I guess someone a few thousand years ago beat you to it."
"It's a nice question, you have to admit," Orianna said. She tilted her head in thought. "Hm. Was there an answer to it?"
"No," Lawrence blandly answered as he sat upright. "But I think that makes it better, don't you think? Makes it open for interpretation, or whatever you authors say all the time."
Orianna punched his shoulder. "Shut up," she giggled. Leaning back, she glanced at the clock, let out a dramatic sigh, stood up and stretched. "It's getting late. Guess it's my time to go. I still have some paperwork to finish because freakin' Gallagher has no sense of humanity."
"Leave the man alone," Lawrence complained. "You've been nagging about him ever since you were promoted. Don't forget he was the one who got you promoted."
"An air-conditioned office of your own, to be more precise," Lawrence corrected. "Don't think I don't know you spend a good three quarters of your time there writing stories and whatnot."
Orianna glanced back in surprise. "What? I would never." She glanced back at the clock and hastily said, "Well would you look at the time, I gotta go." Orianna briskly walked to the door and gently placed her hand on the handle. There was a moment of hesitation before she turned back to Lawrence with a serious look.
"I think the heavens cry because, after eons of history, they cry in reflection of the millions of tragedies that have happened."
Lawrence smiled. "That's a good answer. Good night, Orianna."
"Good night, Lawrence," she said. "Love you."
"Love you, too."
And that was all there was.