Sozo stared off into the mess of Omega's Circle, watching as the luscious land he once loved be tainted by fire and brimstone. He'd let his body return to normal, the Rorschach imagery flowing back freely, as he'd lower himself down and be back on ground. He'd make his way to Kabanaska's remains, looking around to see the discarded and destroyed clay figures that were once Wyvios' people. As he went inside such ruins, letting the black ink that laid over to reach down and carve into hooks and tethers to pull the rubble out, he wondered what exactly compelled his son to take such a suicidal mission. As he went deeper and deeper, he'd eventually reach the Bunker.
The remains of what was once a pristine lab, now crushed and smudged in dirt and blood. Nothing more than stains and viscera that scattered away after the wreckage. The rooms collapsed in, papers that were ripped and torched, it was a wreck through and through, left to be abandoned by one's design. As Sozo kept walking, he'd get more and more disgusted by the man-made creations left behind, as well as some hints of experiments if the shattered syringes, twisted scalpels, and broken tables were to go by. He could hear sounds coming from what lies far away, immediately reacting by a massive spike forged from his ink to skewer the source, a violent thrust that expanded and took root, busting out from the ground and beyond into a 'tree' of tar and muck. The sounds quickly silenced then, a sign that he killed something in there. He was not in the mood for any further disturbance to the quiet. Every piece of this place was foreign to him, slowly recalling what the chambers were for.
For this, he shall emit a kindness only he could bring.
He'd open the chasm wider, letting his ink-like body expand as it took in the miasma outside, slowly but surely growing him in size, turning him almost into a giant, breaking the hole apart and letting the sun shine down on the desolate, metal prison that acted as a lab. As he'd let himself shrink down, the ink pooling out from his feet and flooding the Bunker in black, he'd pull in large clumps of dirt and grass, separating it from the clay. The last thing he wanted was to be reminded of his son's killer that was responsible for all of this. For each patch of dirt he brought, he'd slowly let it composition itself, let it sit and sift, let it settle and act as a patch to plant some proper life. He could recall the moments when he wandered aimlessly the numerous trees he'd visit, giving them his portion of water whenever he had some. He remembered the creatures that lived in there and paid them his respects, finding some berries and flora for them to consume and thrive. He could recall the harsh swipes and cuts of saws and axes when they were about to cut down such a wonderful gift, and punished them for daring to make the trees bleed. To him, he valued life more than humanity, even if his goals say otherwise.
To him, the natural world as it is does not deserve humanity, as humanity deserves the natural world.
As he planted the numerous trees he picked off from above, he'd start tending to the grass, letting some roses and poppies grow out beside the large oaks. He could hear the soft chirps from birds fly by past, and the chitters of squirrels who found a new home. Despite the world healing, he couldn't bring himself to smile again. His body starts to become formless, shapeless even. Just a rounded stick-like figure of black, no facial features left behind, no imprints of white on his chest. He'd rather be isolated and kept away, but he also doesn't wish to drive these creatures off. Their sounds comforted him, kept him from wanting to end the world then and there, kept him from wanting it all to die. Eventually, he'd finish his Garden, and bestowed under one of the trees near some poppies a straw doll. He knelt before the doll, bowing his head, giving his peace before it. "I failed you. I'm sorry for not coming to you sooner. I should've been there when you asked to do such a mission." He'd spoke to himself, tears of blue forming in his faceless head.
He grieved as much as he could, small sobs here and there. Despite the lab being reused into something beautiful, he couldn't forget the loss. He couldn't forgive the loss.
"Myyy mother told me..."
"Someday I would buyyy..."
SHIKK!!!
Another needless noise from the Chamber. He skewered it again in hopes it dies off like the previous.
"Galleyyy with good oars..."
"Sail to Distant Shores..."
He paused himself as he recognized the song. The voice behind it. He'd immediately scatter the ink to the sky, letting it be molded into crows to fly off and find the source, soaring past the empty land and avoiding the newly scarred world within the Circle. He was being moved by the music piece, and as one of the Crows reach northside, he'd find them. A Viking and an Elf, one with tarot cards as she casts out a large rocket, the other with two axes, clashing them to keep the energy momentum steady, the runes active, as he keeps singing.
"Stand up High in the prowww..."
"Noble Barque I steeeeer..."
"Valk Sigrid... Majora Stellascuria... Sixth and fifth ranked..." He regained his eyes, wide open upon seeing the two soldiers of Cliffside's be outside. They were doing a sting operation from within, dismantling Wyvios before he would get too strong, ready to take him out until they arrived.
"Settiiiiing course for the Haaaaven."
"Hew... Many... Foemen."
"Hew... Many... Foemen."
The runes died out, leaving Sozo in the quiet once more, now filled with questions more than answers. His mind was already a wreck, so he chooses to ignore such thoughts until later, letting the crows call back. As he did, he went back to give his prayers for his son, to ensure he gets a peaceful rest in the black void he, like many others, would be forced to watch over. For now, he shall grieve away peacefully into the rising night.
"Nothing matters... except for you."