broen's death

Standing a few feet from the edge of the precipice overlooking the water, Zora let the ocean breeze blow all around her. She let it catch her hair and whip it wildly around her as she stared calmly out over the ocean, dry-eyed for once, and for the moment, as an odd sense of tranquility and...

Broen didn't have a favorite place. That had made things harder, for sure. He'd considered Halcyon--as excessive as it might have been--and then decided Broen had hated Halcyon even more than he'd hated Manta Carlos. Japan, maybe? Japan had been freedom, for Broen, but it had also been far away...

Angelo had spent days in his room, curled up and crying. But there was only so much he could do that. Only so much he could stay in his room before he realized he was making himself worse. He didn't want to subject others to his misery, but thinking about things wasn't making them any better...

Looking back, Angelo would have put the past few days as some of the absolute worst week of his life. He had almost died once before, but he'd been unconscious for that. He'd been dead to the world. Now he just wished he'd been dead to the world. He'd slept for much of the past few days...

Staring numbly out the hotel window, Zora could feel the tears welling up again in her eyes as she wiped them away with the back of her hand. Ever since she got out of the hospital, memories of Broen, both good and bad, came unbidden to her at odd times of the day and set her off in a heap of...

It was Angelo's least favorite part of the job. There was nothing like it in all his work, and it was the last job anyone wanted to do. But this one? This one was on him. He'd already had to tell Angelo and the rest of the Halcyonites, and that left only a small list, mostly courtesy of his...