02-10-2016, 06:59 PM
Trunks continued onward, lugging his weapon in his coat. During his last stop (after drop a deuce), he invented a way to tote his oddly shaped weapon. By lacerating the inside lining of his coat, he could use the dead-air space between the trench's exterior as a holster. It did the trick well enough, and gifted him with more flexibility.
Over the past mile, the ground had leveled, and became firmer; the potholes dissipated; the mounds flattened. The swordsman welcomed it, for it taxed his knees and ankles far less. It enabled him to recover lost ground from the earlier trudge, and before he realized it, the terrain was entirely different.
The quick change in scenery perplexed him, but did not surprise him (at this point, the shock value of the Omniverse had lost much of its power).
Ahead of the swordsman, the foliage of trees and bushes glistened with frost; the air developed a dryness and briskness to it. Pine trees began to freckle in with the firs and cedars, slowing growing in number until becoming the majority of the vegetative populous.
Above, the barrier of the canopy gradually erased, making the sky as visible as the ground. The day had aged to late-evening, painting a gradient of blue that burned orange as the sun set behind him.
Trunks paused, and turned around, capturing a moment to appreciate the sight. He could barely remember the last opportunity he had to view the sun set—between training in the Time Nest and battling the villains of history, it eluded him. The only prior memory he could recall was immediately after killing Cell, in his own universe. The sun set in a brilliant mixture of flaming tangerine and eggplant purple that day. It was a good day.
He hoped the sighting of the sunset brought luck with it. If the Guardians were powerful as Teucer claimed, he'd need all the fortune he could afford.
Over the past mile, the ground had leveled, and became firmer; the potholes dissipated; the mounds flattened. The swordsman welcomed it, for it taxed his knees and ankles far less. It enabled him to recover lost ground from the earlier trudge, and before he realized it, the terrain was entirely different.
The quick change in scenery perplexed him, but did not surprise him (at this point, the shock value of the Omniverse had lost much of its power).
Ahead of the swordsman, the foliage of trees and bushes glistened with frost; the air developed a dryness and briskness to it. Pine trees began to freckle in with the firs and cedars, slowing growing in number until becoming the majority of the vegetative populous.
Above, the barrier of the canopy gradually erased, making the sky as visible as the ground. The day had aged to late-evening, painting a gradient of blue that burned orange as the sun set behind him.
Trunks paused, and turned around, capturing a moment to appreciate the sight. He could barely remember the last opportunity he had to view the sun set—between training in the Time Nest and battling the villains of history, it eluded him. The only prior memory he could recall was immediately after killing Cell, in his own universe. The sun set in a brilliant mixture of flaming tangerine and eggplant purple that day. It was a good day.
He hoped the sighting of the sunset brought luck with it. If the Guardians were powerful as Teucer claimed, he'd need all the fortune he could afford.