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Closure, as one might call it...

Xyro

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"...Ya know, it's kinda strange to think how they change like we do, sat up there, doing whatever stars do... Kinda poetic, dont'cha think?"

Silence answered him, accompanied solely by the gentle sway of the wind and the drab tones of the crickets he had grown accustomed to during the long nights of restlessness.

"Heh, you never were one for talkin. Nor where ya ever really one for ramblin...But I can't help myself, not now. How did ya do it, all these years? Go through all-o-that with nothin but a grunt and the odd evil-eye? Heck, I remember when we faced that big-ass bear when I was little, and it took a massive chunk outa your arm, yet ya still managed to scare it off without so-much as a tear on ya face or a curseword or nu'ing..."

Trailing off, he gently brushed the short, mangled hair beneath his heavily brimmed hat, leaning back against the wasteland floor to stare up into the night sky.

"...maybe you were just doin it for oll ma. Maybe for me. Heck if I know...."

Turning his head, he faced the shallow grave beside him, it's loose dirt darker then the rest of the surrounding landscape. The gentle outline of stones surrounding it's borders only disrupted by a small pistol and hat placed beside it, Allong with a bundle of wild-flowers picked that morning.

With wet eyes and a small, meek smile, he sighed.

"...I'ma miss you, Pa..."

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