[Warning, this chapter is metaphoric. It's just me dabbling with words and trying to make you the reader, feel the whole atmosphere of the scene]
The vehicle somersaulted robotically in the air.
The atmosphere was mostly windless, so there was no excess jerking and stuff like that.
Instead, there was… a light pull, a sinking sensation, mainly from the gust of wind that had sent the vehicle reeling in the air.
Sound stopped, muffled by anticipation.
Death skidded; it could sense a soul, just a single soul pulling forward.
Julian gritted his teeth under the helmet.
An explosion in the distance, the sound of more bombs reeling onto the ground, the sound of a loud shout produced by a dying soldier.
Mainly from a sharp pain, likely from being thrust by a sword-like bullet.
The spilling of blood.
Anticipation…
The exploding of vehicles.
Anticipation…
The fall of a Drayyorsain battle ship…
Anticipation…
Death still skidding by like a snowboard, waiting.
