In these quiet, desperate nights, where the stars hung in the sky with an air of trepidation and the moon seemed unwilling to peer toward the earth, he wondered if the world had a pulse. He wondered if it produced a palpable heartbeat, a respiration, a twitch, anything to give rise to the notion of life. And in brighter times, when the air shifted about from a lilting breeze or a wayward cloud obscured the unblinking audience above, he doubted these preposterous notions perpetually.

But tonight was not one of those nights.

Tonight Bischofite lingered against the pavement, ear pressed to the cold asphalt as he listened for some semblance of life beneath its black, tarred surface. However, he only beheld a sound akin to the ocean rolling indefinitely, perhaps the rush of his own blood through his ears as his body barely contained the brand of feverish excitement that plagued him since his captaincy. But he listened, strained himself, tried desperately to block that same unperturbed torrent in hopes of gleaning even the ghost of a beat, or a sigh or shudder or any shimmer of life.

But if he couldn't hear it in the Rift, could he hear it in the middle of a nigh abandoned city street, where the floodlights blotted out the stars every other night? Where exhaust smoke erased all scent of flowers, and air fresheners painted apartments with facsimile pine laced with carcinogens? No - perhaps the world died long ago, when the Moon Kingdom set upon the earth for the sole intent of conquest. Perhaps the ensuing bloody war stopped the earth's heart, and any senshi defender it might've had finally died, and now the denizens toiled about on a dead rock, a broken planet left astray just like the rest.

And he smiled. Oh how he smiled, absolutely giddy with the prospect of the earth rotting from the inside out, biding its time until the roiling mass of petulant populace at once contracted its lethal decay. And some already did, if youma stood as any indication.

In his giddiness, he hardly noticed the auric energy of a formidable knight pass into his senses, nor did he pay much heed to the offending signature. However, the general finally pried himself from the ground and brushed his coat of stray detritus. Gold eyes peeled across the cityscape in stark scrutiny as he searched for the source of this intrusion, this wayward soul that sought to meander too closely to the volatile general. But the sickly street lamps and gaunt buildings and looming shadows belied nothing more than a jaundiced indifference for the toiling of the general's mind.

"I'f seen few knights in my day, stranger," he spoke to the empty streets, smiling. "I figured zem for dead and gone. What a pleasant surprise." Bischofite drew an audible gasp as he searched for the source of the auric energy.

Guine
sorry, life ate me! hope this is ok!