[ Sometimes he feels like Earth is a distant relative. Beautiful, stationary, autonomous. Selfish. That trait wasn't its fault, entirely, but that was rare for someone like Amuro to think, being privy to none of that. Even if he was born on Earth, he grew up in the space colonies, fought against the uprising for the independence of those colonies, and was imprisoned on Earth as a result. Earth was a cage which tethered him in politics. Space was too infinite in its possibilities all calling for freedom. He should feel prouder than he does about that, but he takes comfort in much less than he accepts.
There are places where he finds peace and reprieves. Things that do more than just remind him of what it is he tries to protect by fighting.
Amuro wanders around the side of the white church with his hands stuffed in his uniform jacket pockets. The air is temperate and sweet, the real sun warm on his shoulders. His boots crunch in the green, impossibly green, grass. Around the side and towards the back, there it is, glowing like so many stars. A patch of flowers clustered brightly against the field, moving in the breeze like it's alive, like it's sailing across the hills.
( loving you was like going to war, i never came back the same. )
There are places where he finds peace and reprieves. Things that do more than just remind him of what it is he tries to protect by fighting.
Amuro wanders around the side of the white church with his hands stuffed in his uniform jacket pockets. The air is temperate and sweet, the real sun warm on his shoulders. His boots crunch in the green, impossibly green, grass. Around the side and towards the back, there it is, glowing like so many stars. A patch of flowers clustered brightly against the field, moving in the breeze like it's alive, like it's sailing across the hills.
All he can do is stop and wait and take it in. ]
They're making quite a show out of it.