[color=gold][center][h1]* * *[/h1][/center][/color]

[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/nUqQzYu.jpg?1[/img][/center]

The Overseer grunted as he pulled himself over another stone face and up to the top of the mountain. Looking down over the treacherous, rocky terrain of their far-flung domain instilled a melancholy sense of at-home warmth in him, tempered by notes of depressed resignation. He hadn’t seen his real home in a while, but soon he would be walking through the homes of others as they cowered and ran. 
	
He sat, contemplating this future. Was is worth it? He had done this countless times, over countless eons. All the more time to wear down on him. Perhaps a passing of the torch was in order. Would they be willing? Who would bear this responsibility? Perhaps he should speak with the Other, as his predecessor once did to him. Perhaps he was the only one. He still held hope that one day he may die.

Gamma materialised at his side, taking a familiar form - the same form the others of the Twelve oft took. It had likely been expecting the Overseer’s return from his hike for some time. The Shard’s Port was only a few hundred metres behind him.
	
Gamma rematerialized, sitting next to him, placing an artificial hand on the Overseer’s armoured shoulder. “How have you been, in recent days?” asked the ancient being.
	
The Overseer shrugged. “No better nor worse.” He extended his arms, stretching his weary muscles. Infinite youth was not quite infinite yet, it seemed. “I need to retire.”
	
Gamma remained silent for a moment. “Soon,” it whispered encouragingly. “We have pondered the time-space, and our master knows of your weariness and despair. Soon.”
	
The Overseer swallowed any retort that may have coalesced in his mind. “I hope so.”
	
“I have seen as much myself. This Alpha is tenacious, but as are we.” 

The red-armoured figure nodded. “Any luck with the Cenotaph?” he inquired.

“None.” Gamma paused for a moment, as the Overseer bowed his helmeted head. “How goes the crusade?”
	
The Overseer laughed. A joke, unexpected from one of the Twelve, but then again Gamma had been fond of imitation. “Sadly, well. If you say ‘soon,’ then I’ll hold you to it. I’m becoming tired. I want to die.”
	
It was Gamma’s turn to bow its head. “Unfortunately natural. Infinity is a fickle thing.”
	
The Overseer sat for a moment, considering Gamma’s words. “It is,” he eventually conceded.

[color=gold][center][h1]* * *[/h1][/center][/color]