#holy fuck this is gorgeous
guess they’ve talked it through as a crew :)
Ha ha so I wrote an extremely bootleg fic (loosely based on this post) for @kdazrael’s savages!verse because I cannot be stopped
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The newsfeeds stream nothing but footage of the last moments of Hosnian Prime for nearly a standard week. Trulaw lets the cast run almost constantly on one holoprojector or another, absent-mindedly watching the performance of grief and outrage on the stage of galactic media–the feeds are particularly fond of a clip from a hand-held recorder, jostled by the motion of a crowd as it captures the searing red of the sky before jerking down to show a woman’s panicked, crying face.
Wikk shuts it off whenever they’re in the same room, calls him morbid. He can’t explain why he watches the parade of pain and anger, the memorials and political statements–not to Wikk, maybe not to anyone. But someone ought to bear witness to the aftermath.
He isn’t surprised, given everything, that it all came to this. Where else was there to go for a man who never acknowledged any direction but upwards? What was there to do but escalate, up the ante, force the hand?
If nothing else, the war crimes trial will be a diverting occasion.
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