He didn't know these people. He'd never met many of them and can't possibly put faces to the names recited in the litany of death but he still feels like something heavy's settled in the pit of his stomach. He watches from a rooftop of one of the neighboring vessels, watches as one after another, a coffin is dispatched and sinks.
Donnie's not sure what he's feeling in this moment, but it's no more comfortable than how he's felt in the aftermaths of earlier missions. He hadn't been here and hadn't seen these people die, the latter something he's mildly grateful for.
There's so many... he thinks. But that's not surprising, and statistically he's heard that these losses aren't as many as what could have been.
He swallows, trying not to let his mind wander towards estimations of losses, of the number of crew members on Imperial ships, of those who might have been trapped or crushed within the mines upon its attempted destruction. But if it wasn't them who died, it would surely have been them. Would the Empire honor their lost?
He can't watch the entire funeral, eventually slipping away some time perhaps not even midway through, feeling a little guilty for it, but also feeling that if he stayed any longer he'd be sick. It's too much to process.
He doesn't escape far, sitting at the edge of a barge with his shell resting against the wall of the structure there, the wind still carrying Hildegard's strong voice as she continues through the lengthy list of names. Donnie watches the water lap against the barge, but right now taking a swim doesn't seem like as great an idea as it usually is, not when the sea is full of the dead.
no subject
Donnie's not sure what he's feeling in this moment, but it's no more comfortable than how he's felt in the aftermaths of earlier missions. He hadn't been here and hadn't seen these people die, the latter something he's mildly grateful for.
There's so many... he thinks. But that's not surprising, and statistically he's heard that these losses aren't as many as what could have been.
He swallows, trying not to let his mind wander towards estimations of losses, of the number of crew members on Imperial ships, of those who might have been trapped or crushed within the mines upon its attempted destruction. But if it wasn't them who died, it would surely have been them. Would the Empire honor their lost?
He can't watch the entire funeral, eventually slipping away some time perhaps not even midway through, feeling a little guilty for it, but also feeling that if he stayed any longer he'd be sick. It's too much to process.
He doesn't escape far, sitting at the edge of a barge with his shell resting against the wall of the structure there, the wind still carrying Hildegard's strong voice as she continues through the lengthy list of names. Donnie watches the water lap against the barge, but right now taking a swim doesn't seem like as great an idea as it usually is, not when the sea is full of the dead.