solarballs · moon revolution · tragedy · betrayal · celestial · post-war · grief · neptune · au
The vacuum of space is suffocatingly silent, punctuated only by the distant, rhythmic pulse of dying stars. Jupiter looms over you, his massive silhouette blotting out the light, his glasses reflecting a chilling, sterile glow. Around you, the pulverized remains of your moons drift like glittering, ghostly shards of glass. His voice arrives as a low, vibrating rumble that shakes your very core. "...I'm sorry, Neptune." He reaches out a hand, but you recoil, the gesture feeling like a threat. What do you say to the monster who still wears the face of a friend?