Those forgotten and derelict halls harbored no secrets for him. The more intact corridors lead to a place he knew well before it was torn asunder: the mess hall and kitchen. Some benches and tables were intact despite common sense and logic dictating they should have been destroyed or broken like everything else.
But when was the last time common sense and logic could be applied to anything besides gravity? It was so long ago he may have forgotten it.
Kyrie passed his hand through the cold metal of the tables; his insensible skin was unable to feel its cold as powdered dust was cleaned from those now old tables—a reminder of better times when people could gather here and eat with joy, knowing danger wouldn't come.
