The day deepens. The sky hangs low with pale clouds as Sorin's unit begins to march, quiet and steady through the old war-torn road that curves toward the City's outer rim.
Inside one of the armored carriages at the center column, Sorin sits with Ruva across from her. The interior is dim but well-kept, the wooden walls padded with dark velvet, the iron-plated windows latched half-open for breathability.
Ruva sways slightly with the motion of the wheels, legs kicking idly as she looks out, then back at Sorin.
"So…" she says casually, then glances up with a grin. "What exactly am I gonna do?"
Sorin doesn't look up from the small map she's reviewing. "Kill everything you see."
Ruva tilts her head. "Oh? That's it?"
"Pretty much." Sorin flips the page. Then, after a short pause, she glances up. Her voice softens slightly. "Wait… You're okay with killing now?"
Ruva quiets.
