Last Westgard Standing
"Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says I'll try again tomorrow." - Unknown
"Post theme: Turn - Night Cafe"
Not even on his birthday
Silas rolled out of the comfy confines and took his time to slip on some fresh training gear. His entire body ached as if he had already done ten hours' worth of excercise, instead, it was his tired muscles crying for rest. Even when he was exhausted, Silas still trained religiously and did his best to put in the work. Other than physically improving, he didn't really get anything else from it. No one really ever told him he was doing a good job with keeping it up, nor with the strict diet, he had to keep to. All the other padawan got to eat what they wanted, but he never dared question it.
All he could tell himself was that it was for the greater good, that he'd help save people by turning himself into a weapon. One way or another, he was right. However, deep down he knew he was trading his own life for a cause that may not even be possible. One sheep apart of a bigger flock, they were all destined to suffer the same fate as each other, never achieving that fulfillment they wanted to find so desperately in the order. They were all easily replaceable, there was always a person behind them ready to their place. Even if he wasn't able to see them yet.
The same could be said for being a padawan to Valery. If he died, she'd just shrug it off after a few days and replace him with a kid that will fill his shoes.
Silas pondered on that thought for a few minutes as he just sat there silently, looking at the window within the darkness of his room. No one would care if he perished on the battlefield or left with a trace. After all, he was lonely and had no true friends in the order. Master Valery and Kahlil didn't count, they were only doing their Duty. Iris? they had some good moments but they still barely knew each other. The other padawans barely even knew him, they wouldn't even care. The last of his family had died, it was safe to say not a single soul would appear for his funeral if they ever bothered to give him one.
His eyes lowered to the floor, weary and lost in the train of emotion he was feeling. Tears found their way into his tired eyes and began to flow as if a flood gate had been voluntarily opened, allowing the water to cascade down his cheek with a weak sob. His head was telling him to find Master Valery and beg her to let him leave, at least to give him a chance to live out the rest of his sorrowful days by himself in a lifetime of aimless wonder. For some reason, he just couldn't do it. The pain he felt was overwhelming, but his determination to make a difference no matter how small was deafening.
The chapter of himself being a kid was over, he had already lived that through his parents. Now it was time to sacrifice his own life for others to finally let others live theirs. He'd probably never get anything back, but a simple thanks now and then would suffice. Silas was probably never going to achieve his full goal of total peace in the galaxy. Although, as long as some people had found happiness from what he did, that would be all he needed to leave this reality in peace.
Rising to his feet, he slowly walked over to the window and peered into the stormy environment ahead. There was calmer winds ahead, they'd just need to go through chaos to get there first. Shyly smiling through the layer of sadness, his light blue eyes finally found a sparkle of hope for what was yet to come.
"Happy birthday... Silas"