Twisted Slough enshrined in crematoria

tachyon had fallen to studying the dejected features of his comrades; all three of them worn and grim citizens. he kept his thoughts to himself, though his exhaustion wore plainly on his thin features. with the despondent cheerlessness only a starved refugee could muster he padded after lasher, obeying without command his order. he was not outwardly optimistic, though he kept his thoughts tightly lidded.