One last walk

"And that should conclude the class for today, not a lot more to learn about the simple acronyms. The test's tomorrow, as y'all probably know by now, but if you paid enough attention to your High Khalani classes, there's really no reason to spend the night awake studying more. Oh, and don't send me questions at two AM, I'm not going to respond... Looking straight at you, Yenn." One by one, the students made their way out of the small park. A colorful bunch of immigrants, they were, all of them quite talented in their own little ways. A shame that some of the locals weren't very trusting of outsiders such as these, Khas, most of the protoss society still held to the idea of 'purity', but there's hope that sooner or later these small grievances will fade away. Sure, some other historical problems still haven't been dealt with, namely the belittlement of grey-coats, but you know... Eventually™. The holographic displays laid across the grass were rapidly taken down and set aside by a trio of probes. The energy bleeder heard they were a brand new model, and were supposedly faster and quieter than their predecessors. Honestly, the difference was too small to even notice, the lil' floating automata have been 'improved on' so often for the last three hundred years that everything is already perfected. Or, well, that's what his mother told him, not like he was around for all that time, nor would he ever be. There won't be enough time to go surfing today, for the dim sun of winter is already halfway obscured by the horizon. Still, one needs to practice some kind of physical activity once a day, for the Empire can't afford unhealthy citizens, so a bit of a stroll is in line. Out of the park and onto the metal streets, passing by little groups of those of his kind, greeting fellow grey-coats and nodding towards the elderly white-coats with a begrudged respect. Soft sunlight made glimmer the sky-high golden spires of West Nova Antioch, glowing orbs flickering into existence in their lil' designated street lights. The plaza of the great Templar Archives still had a small population of younglings running up and down. You know, instead of being inside, studying, or going back home. Can't blame them, kids need to be kids sometimes, and if playing with your friends outside isn't a thing that kids do, then there's something wrong with society. After hours of roaming through the golden city, the energy bleeder found himself surrounded by his friends. Geld, Smolensk, Mel, Milla, Newt, even his older brother Salazar. None of them spoke a word as they trudged by the Aeon Square, eyeing the Citadel of the Executor in all of its magnitude. A single colossus stood next to the enormous pyramidal structure, this massive weapon of war currently being used to dispatch maintenance probes. They were still taking down the festival's decorations from the citadel, apparently. The group continued silent for the remainder of the walk until eventually each of them broke off to head to their home districts. By midnight, the grey-coated stallion nodded farewell to the last of his friends and made his way into the carefully designed Northern Woods. His house was a bit deeper into the forest than the others, but it was still possible to see the neighboring houses just down the metal street. No such a thing as too much peace, they say, and it does get quiet here, which is nice. After a brief shower, he put the more formal clothes aside and wrapped himself in a nice cozy set of white pajamas. Not that he was going to sleep just yet, rather, it felt like it was time to break this deep silence a little. Out on the garden sat an old grand piano, one that he began to play. Notes flowed freely with the feelings, a harmony that is difficult to explain but easy to understand. It felt empty, but at the same time, there was something there, trying to come through and break the void. And that's when he noticed the eyes. A set of softly glowing purple eyes, staring straight into his mind. Something, someone, was watching him from the darkness beyond the garden. He stopped playing and stared straight at the watcher, but as soon as he did, the eyes flickered out and vanished into the night. He searched the area, but found no hoofprints or marks that would point to the fact that someone was there. No smell nor noise, perhaps just another hallucination. Still, rather strange, innit? Perhaps the rising sun would provide more light onto these matters because, you know, it's the sun. The bleeder eventually made his way back inside, locking the doors shut and molding bits of wood that would help to keep them that way. Up the stairs and under thick blankets, sleep would find him in a matter of seconds. And one hour later, he woke up again, thrown like a ragdoll across the room as the windows shattered. Zerathur never had the chance to change from his pajamas and is still wearing them as casual clothing. Being the only protoss alive in Equestria, not like anyone's even going to notice. // There was supposed to be a lot more dialogue on this one, along with a dapper elephant. RIP Yenn, you will be missed.