The Drone Ceases

From the perspective of Cecil Nightengale.

Buzzing and overwhelming. A fuzz at the edge of my hearing, always constantly at the edge, and bringing me with it. Annoying yet faint.

Always it has been such since the Rebirth.

It's a side-effect of the Gift. A side-effect, ever increasing as I crawl meagerly further and further from the rays of the defunct and broken Warriors of the Sky. It buzzes and sounds in my ear, the constant thrum of the city, the constant thrum of my own body (which is so faint now), and the constant thrum of those bodies around me. Never leaving me in peace, it's always there to remind me of that which I must do, that which confronts me, and that I am constantly, always hunted.

Yet... I hear nothing now. There's no sound, no touch, no scent. I am alone, and enjoying every moment I have of it. The pain lulls me into a state of meditation that until recently I thought impossible. Almost a state of sleeping, and I think; this must be what it's like when one grows indifferent to the world, and in their immortality, a still vassal for the Lord. It's a humbling experience.

Although I can feel naught but the Cradle of Pain (back and forth, soothing), there's still something that pokes at me. It's not unkind. Never was there more a gentle reminder than this of my station...

And that reminder is simply that I am thirsty.