Work Text:
Chipped dark blue bricks fended off a furious horde roaring in a maddened night. The thick fog enveloped the pristine underground city of never-ending rains. All was lit in a navy-blue tone, but the coldness barely countered the boiling rage from below. Decaying pale fists soaked from the harsh rain lividly splintered the capital’s dark oaked gates.
Peculiar white flames from the rusted torches luminated whitewood signs, each with short phrases blotched with vibrant red paint. Some were written with desperate cries for freedoms, to have their voices heard, some wishing curses.
It was a wave of nearly withered blenched figures with filthy mauve hair. They all wore the same dull purple vest over their ripped black shirts, gray ripped jeans sheltering their malnourished sick frame from the cold air pinching their rotting skin. Thousands wearing the same work attire, staring the guards above sharply with flaring orange eyes.
To the husks, their blue platted armor glimmering from the drizzling rain were beacons, teasing the crowd. Their city’s crest, a silver crown etched across their chest were their targets. The damp atmosphere, tainted with a smell of decay suffocated the frightened guards.
They only watched the chaos below as they waited for their orders.