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[unknown]
Once upon a time, New Caprica City sat on the dusty mouth of a riverbed.
The alluvial deposits have turned rust red, oxidized by air that scrapes at Gaeta's mouth every time he breathes. He stands at the boundary between water and ground, arms tucked close, shivering as he stares out at the river. The water, too, has turned red.
It's not water.
It laps at Gaeta's shoes -- both shoes, both feet -- and he can feel its sickly warmth even through the thickness of his boots. Every so often, something washes ashore. A torn jacket. A hand. A limb.
(He can't tell if it's his own lost limb or not.)
His stomach clenches, and he can't stop shaking, and his eyes are frozen open: unable to blink, let alone look away from the shoreline.
The alluvial deposits have turned rust red, oxidized by air that scrapes at Gaeta's mouth every time he breathes. He stands at the boundary between water and ground, arms tucked close, shivering as he stares out at the river. The water, too, has turned red.
It's not water.
It laps at Gaeta's shoes -- both shoes, both feet -- and he can feel its sickly warmth even through the thickness of his boots. Every so often, something washes ashore. A torn jacket. A hand. A limb.
(He can't tell if it's his own lost limb or not.)
His stomach clenches, and he can't stop shaking, and his eyes are frozen open: unable to blink, let alone look away from the shoreline.