[Shikamaru hadn't expected very many people to survive the crash. Maybe a few, the strongest and most durable among them, but he certainly hadn't thought he would live to see it. It would've been easier, certainly, to die in the chaos of those final moments, and yet here he was. One of the first and one of the last. The only of the first batch to make it this far, and this is where he was going to die. On a rocky hill overlooking a murky pond on an alien planet, further from anything resembling home than he could ever imagine... and alone.
He'd done what he could at first. Survival came almost laughably easily. He was armed with skills and knowledge and weapons useful in the alien terrain they'd landed in, barely having to run on more than autopilot to carry himself from day to day. There wasn't much point in it, really, except... other people had survived with him. Other people without those skills or tools. People who, at least briefly, sparked that last little something he had left to give. That need to continue. To make sure the others continued, soldiering on so that maybe (maybe), a handful of the victims of this entire mess could find some kind of justification. Get something out of this cruel, pointless mess.
But they're so few now. So few, and fading quickly, falling to the clone sickness. During his entire stay in the facility it had only dropped Shikamaru once or twice, an incredibly good track record compared to the rest of the population. It would take him eventually, but he couldn't know when. Didn't know how long he would be allowed to linger like this, watching everything he fought for for years disappear, one flawed body at a time. There was nothing more he could do. He really might be the last if things continued this way.
He didn't want to be.
It's strange to have that desire, but he hasn't felt much of anything since Temari and Tsunade were terminated. Feeling anything at all is a novelty at this point. Shikamaru looks to the sky, staring at clouds that are the wrong color. Counts too many moons, visible even though the planet's sun has not yet begun to set. He can hear creatures moving in the strange forest around him and knows they look nothing like the four-legged silhouette his mind supplies.
He takes a breath, then another, and... yeah, this feels right. As right as anything can feel.
Not too far away from Sebastian, on a small hill just outside the crash radius, there's a pull. A call. Nothing particularly urgent, but a call nonetheless, and that's where Sebastian will find Shikamaru. He's a far cry from his old self, a little too thin and a little too tired, a strangely enduring shadow of is former self, but he's more present now than he has been in quite some time. Sitting at the top of the rise, he's looks out over the water with an expression that seems almost peaceful.
no subject
He'd done what he could at first. Survival came almost laughably easily. He was armed with skills and knowledge and weapons useful in the alien terrain they'd landed in, barely having to run on more than autopilot to carry himself from day to day. There wasn't much point in it, really, except... other people had survived with him. Other people without those skills or tools. People who, at least briefly, sparked that last little something he had left to give. That need to continue. To make sure the others continued, soldiering on so that maybe (maybe), a handful of the victims of this entire mess could find some kind of justification. Get something out of this cruel, pointless mess.
But they're so few now. So few, and fading quickly, falling to the clone sickness. During his entire stay in the facility it had only dropped Shikamaru once or twice, an incredibly good track record compared to the rest of the population. It would take him eventually, but he couldn't know when. Didn't know how long he would be allowed to linger like this, watching everything he fought for for years disappear, one flawed body at a time. There was nothing more he could do. He really might be the last if things continued this way.
He didn't want to be.
It's strange to have that desire, but he hasn't felt much of anything since Temari and Tsunade were terminated. Feeling anything at all is a novelty at this point. Shikamaru looks to the sky, staring at clouds that are the wrong color. Counts too many moons, visible even though the planet's sun has not yet begun to set. He can hear creatures moving in the strange forest around him and knows they look nothing like the four-legged silhouette his mind supplies.
He takes a breath, then another, and... yeah, this feels right. As right as anything can feel.
Not too far away from Sebastian, on a small hill just outside the crash radius, there's a pull. A call. Nothing particularly urgent, but a call nonetheless, and that's where Sebastian will find Shikamaru. He's a far cry from his old self, a little too thin and a little too tired, a strangely enduring shadow of is former self, but he's more present now than he has been in quite some time. Sitting at the top of the rise, he's looks out over the water with an expression that seems almost peaceful.
He's ready.]