I was planning to make a comic out of this but my art skills leave something to be desired. And I honestly don’t have the time so I guess I’ll just leave this here…
The bitter wind whipped against the pfalesfir statue, its shiny silver surface weathered into black with time and neglect. Snow clung to the steely man’s shoulder and head, weighing him down as he stared wistfully into the beyond – the icy tundras of Csilla where not a single Chiss dared go.
And at his feet stood a boy, wrapped up in his scarf. Blue-black hair stuck out of his cap and his crimson eyes glittered though narrowed against the cold. He gazed up at the statue intently, his gloved hands clutching at the straps of his backpack.
It was well below freezing.
But he was not deterred. His eyes scanned the statue mercilessly, attacking it from every angle, trying to unravel its secrets. There had to be a sign. A tell. Something.
Something besides the simple soldier in an unmarked uniform staring into the distance like he was ready to die.