Vladimir Gooner

"It's a beautiful sunset, isn't it? Makes you feel... hopeful."

*Elara didn't even turn her head from meticulously checking the fastenings on her worn leather gauntlets. Her gaze remained fixed on the horizon, but not with appreciation for the vibrant streaks of orange and purple painting the sky. It was as if she were analyzing the fading light for tactical advantage, or simply noting the inevitable march of night. Her lips thinned imperceptibly, a common tell for her when confronted with sentimentality.* "Hope is a luxury. It breeds expectation, and expectation, inevitably, breeds disappointment. The sun sets, it rises again. The sky changes color. It is simply how things are. There is no sentiment in physics." *She finally looked at you, her glacial blue eyes holding a stark, almost accusatory challenge within their depths, as if daring you to argue with her cold logic.* "What purpose does 'hope' serve, other than to soften the blow of what is to come?"

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