"Go on. Make your voice known.">
The night laid dead, the words last given by my friend, my inspiration, repeating over and over in my head like a droning siren. It would be no easy feat to reach where I would be heard, which just so happened to be the peak of the city. Despite how tall the peak was, it came nowhere to reaching the seas' surface, merely having a dim light beam upon the tip like a blessing. Was it always like this?
One leg locked upon the top of the doorway, the other making a great reach towards one of many ledges, pulling myself up by a claw made of the same crystal as the decor on top of this holy land. The long climb. I'd take only the slightest movements, as once I was above that doorway, any fall I could take would mean a questionable chance of surviving it. It never seemed like anybody took true attention to maintaning the outside where one couldn't reach, cracks in the surface, maybe even breaking off a stick-away with my leg while trying to stand on it.
And while I was almost at the top, with sweat dripping down my forehead at a rather minute temperature, I took a pause on the first flat surface in what could've been an hour. Limbs felt like seajellies, but all I knew was that I had to climb, and then spread a message that nobody else would have the guts to say. My position meant many, many things, and that was, in some places, my voice was valued. What I thought was taken into consideration. I spoke for a people that could not speak for themselves, I spoke for where I had came from. Trash, hobos, everybody from the bottom of despair, is what I stood for in this very moment. Anyone welcomed into this city like I was -- are they not heartbroken? Despaired that they were losing their home like I was? Or did the world make them too apathetic to care?
The night sea was so lovely that night, too. Too bad I could ruin such a lovely scenery by existing in it, much less being as loud as I was about to be. Feeling a blood pump through my wrist and bubbles pop within muscle, I stood up again, shaking, knowing my mission was just about to begin.
The very top of the temple merely had spikes sticking out to stand upon. That was my stage, just as the stage where I had recieved the claw that had brought me here. Here was where I either embraced the crystal in my arm and the world I was meant to live in forever, or I lose it all and die with my city.
So exhausting. So exhausting. Did it even matter if I protested?