Originally Posted by
grampagen
When Asha'rah confirmed his suspicion, Ochazuke cast his gaze to the shattered, ashen Lookout plaza beneath his feet.
"The first mortals to possess the means to transverse realities," he muttered at last, "who sought to colonize, but not to settle. What else did they want?" The more that emerged of these ancient engineers, the longer the shadow of their remnants stretched from an abyss; before even a time of an eyewitness from the start.
Why would you let them in? Was it perhaps another case of honeyed words stirring up and preying upon her passions? The fragmented memory of a fallen goddess emerged from the stagnate shell of a steel jizo. Somewhere in the fog of memory there lay a portion of the truth, writ with glowing runes upon a black spire.
"Cheh." For the moment, this matter can wait. "For whatever intent they had, what they've left in their wake has been seized upon by a madman. The Doctor has repurposed it to the end of slaying Time itself and grasping all reality to his design."
Fist bound, he grit his teeth. "I saw it, Asha'rah. Whatever came before is a microcasm of the Doctor's resources. Now with the Chaff down, his view upon us is unobstructed, and who knows how wide the field is now when we are pit against a man who would seize endless lives from endless splintered realities?"
Staring idly to one side, he exchanged a look with her impassive faceplate. The lines beneath his eyes cast shadows of pronounced fatigue. His clenched fist quaked at his side, stained and blackened with Glacia's blood as if it would dare not loosen in spite of the corpse they had seen before them.
"With just a little more, we will have the means to end it in our grasp, and then..."
Leaving the remaining thought unvoiced, he wordlessly walked with Asha'rah towards the Guardian. One that would destroy the future to live forever in a suspended past has come to the end of their path. If there was to be any path toward surviving tomorrow, it started here, with one step forward.
Heading over to the Room of Spirit and Time, there appeared to be something of a commotion in the aftermath. Indeed something had struck a certain man in particular that he had forgotten himself. For a moment he stood silently as the inventor flailed in frustration, until the sight of it became less cathartic and increasingly more undignified. He spoke straight to the matter then.
"Pantaloon, a word."