The sky flares with white/blue screams, drowning out the sound of silence. The voice of light and air are laced with the pain of a million, and Soubi can feel himself drawn to the tragically exquisite disaster. He wants to paint it.

Lately, even his paint shares the voice of another. A voice that rips him raw, exposes his insides to the breath of earth. That same voice that tore apart his innocence, who smiled and left it on the side of the road with a hand-made free! sign.

But he is stronger like this, isn't he? Those appendages were a burden, anyways (were they truly?).

A roar illuminates his room. Once upon a time, this would have scared him. He is stronger now, but still dependant. The image of his young sacrifice colors closed eyelids. A blot of lightning, bright as diamonds, quick as a camera flash.

Soubi isn't used to being alone, not being weak. He can't.

Not when Ritsu-sensei taught him otherwise.