Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-26998060-20180806001050/@comment-27661770-20180813120312

The ground. The sweet, sweet ground. Terra firma. Earth, dirt, soil, stable footing. As the parachute he and a good... Possibly thousand other rebellion soldiers used (not one parachute for all, but one for each of the same issue, mind you) furled around him, cloaking him, he turned around. Swaddled in these new robes  covering a scarred body with top-of-its-line bulletproof armor and with a very warm and unusual gun crafled in his left hand by its slide, he turned around to see a smoking wreck with one symbol sticking out of it.

A tricolor representative rainbow, red, green, and blue, behind a lightning cloud.

An emblem of a freshly dead empire.

He breathed in and out.

They had done it. They won.

He began to sob loudly, in between fits of laughter. An intense wave of emotion. Amidst similar bouts of crying, laughing, and adrenaline-fueled screaming, shouting, and chanting- or just straight up collapsing to sleep- he wept for the dead and laughed for the victory. Cried out of euphoria and laughed at the irreplaceable people lost to obtain it.

It was funny like that.