Heyo, human beings from outer space!
I have unuduh update for you today. I just really felt like evoking emotional pain, y'know? Maybe I was just super emotional when I wrote this. I dunno. Judge for yourself
Trigger warning for mention of suicide.
Read on if you dare.
There was nothing good about war.
Perhaps the results were peaceful, but was it really worth it?
All a bunch of fighting just to say "this side is better"?
What was the point?
There wasn't a point.
There was no kriffing point.
And even though there was no point, everyone was fighting it. And everyone was giving their all to the war.
The kriffing, pointless war.
And people were dying for the war. Every day, soldiers died in the war.
The kriffing, pointless war.
One minute, a man was laughing with his brothers. The next minute, he'd lost them all. He'd lost everything. He'd lost everything to the war.
The kriffing, pointless war.
Then there was the trama. No man could walk away from war without the trama; the unseen scars. No man could possibly be unharmed. Every man was eternally scarred. Scarred from the war.
The kriffing, pointless war.
And that was just the men. Children were fighting in the war as well. Children. Children had to endure the same things of the war as the fully-trained, adult men did.
They lost those they cared about.
They lost everything.
They endured trama.
They put their all into the war.
The pointless, kriffing war.
Tears spilt over Rex's eyelids. He hated the war. He hated everything about it. Without the war, he wouldn't exist. But maybe that would've been better. Sometimes he wished he wouldn't exist. Sometimes he wished he could've been the brother who died. He hated the war.
He hated everything about the kriffing, pointless war.
Rex closed his eyes and tightened his grip around his pistol blaster, holstered by his hip. He wondered if he should end his suffering in the kriffing, pointless war then and there. He wondered if he should join his deceased brothers marching on.
Then he heard the door slide open and he knew a small figure sat down next to him.
"One day, the war will be over, and you'll be a free man," she told him soothingly. "You just have to hold on and take it a day at a time."
Ahsoka. A child. She had to fight the war, to do just as much (if not, more) as Rex did. And she was still strong. She pushed through. She stayed strong. She didn't consider selfish desires to make things simpler for herself.
Ahsoka leaned her head against Rex's shoulder and shut her eyes. She pulled her knees to her chest. Rex opened his eyes to look at her.
She looked so small and dainty, leaning against his armour. She looked so young, and she could've been innocent.
But she fought in the war, gave it her all, and stayed strong while doing it. If she could stay strong, Rex could, too.
Ahsoka didn't deserve to fight in the war. But Rex could at least make sure she lived to see another day.
Rex's grip slackened against his blaster and he wrapped his arm around Ahsoka's shoulders. He didn't know if she knew what he wanted to do, what he was about to do, but she'd saved him. She'd made it so he could live to see another day.
And though the war dragged on, though he could lose everything, Rex wouldn't allow himself to lose Ahsoka.
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Word Count: 638
Published: May 7, 2022
It's even sadder when you think about how Rex lost Ahsoka.
Hold up, lemme just let that one sink into my mind. Ouch.
Requests are open, feel free to message me or make a comment if you have any ideas!
Bye, peoples!