The grass wept with dew, the sun streaking high with fiery colors. Their hands lay interlaced, a grip bound for eternity. Fellow soldiers stood alined with them, weapons in hand, stern looks upon their faces. They had not found their piece yet. Their piece of light among such dark times.

But they had.

And so they held together, through spray of metal through spray of dirt, through blood shed and tears, and beyond.

And onwards they went.

Together.

Forever.

She lay across from him, both with a slice of metallic death in their chest, hands still laced. Their armor glinted with a vast array of glittering colors, and as a recovery team fell upon them, hats were placed over heavy hearts, and words were uttered.

“Don… he was a good man,” said one. He glanced to the black-armored soldier with misted eyes.

“Monica… a rebellious child with a good heart,” said another. She smiled soberly at the red-haired girl in aqua.

And they left the Spartans to rest as they had in life.