Probably about 2 years after the events of the story
Caught. Trapped in swirling despair is not a look anyone can pull off. It just doesn't look pretty, and it's not something I'm fond of. Yet, I fire all the same.
She's gunning for me. I can feel something, a pressure. She will try to rend my work, undo my time, effort, perhaps even my existence. For this moment, maybe I'll actually try as hard as I can.
I never work too hard. A captain might be in command of her vessel, but I'm not the sort of captain that people like. I lead everything to an end. I narrow down every possibility down to one, and there's nothing that can stop me. So though it's mine, I'm entirely apathetic about my role. And yet...
Oh, what a rush! She's really doing it! I can feel her unmaking my effort! She's taking it away! Oh, I'll fight as hard as I can then! I have no reason to hold back! I'll really struggle to the last!
Consistently I'm never the last to leave the ship. Always the first. I bring every other fate to an end, that is meaning. What else do I have, or can I think about? It is important enough, and though I hate to see struggling faces, I can manage to laugh and enjoy it.
I carry that idea. I fire it out of this rifle. Nothing but the pure energy of the end of destinies. I hate firing this damned thing. I just can't get used to it, no matter how much I try. With nothing else, this is simply my role. Yet, for once, I'm actually the one being unmade. For once, I'm being outmatched and outgunned. For once, I can actually try my hardest.
Because for once... this captain... will go down with her ship!
