War. That could be a casual word, and at the same time, it could be a depiction of the cruelest meat grinder with an abyssal mouth capable and ready to swallow just about anything, and any living being close by, their wishes be damned. War, at the end of the day, built on the torn flesh and broken bones of those below, benefiting only those who never even needed to set foot on the battlefield, leaving the choking destruction and the pungent bloody hues to be painted with the lives struggling at the bottom. Though, even then, the latter could not really be pitied, not when, unlike those putting their lives on the line to survive and get to feed themselves, some were betting against fate to climb up and grasp some vast sky.
Many things could be said about wars, its participants and those who benefit from it, but all those philosophical considerations could not have been any farther away from Lucas at that moment.
Arriving at their destination, his expression didn't change.
