Gods upon their thrones, ghosts in the sewers.
What an absurd, ridiculous, and utterly... despairing contrast.
Ling swallowed the last mouthful of iron-tasting nutrient paste, crushed the empty tube, and tossed it into the filthy water in the corner. In the darkness, he silently bared his teeth, shaping his mouth into a humorless curve that was almost self-mocking. There was no grief or resentment in that curve, only a numbness made ice-cold by the grinding reality of life, and hidden beneath it, a faint tenacity to survive, something he himself had nearly forgotten...
