Resting above the sea, currents pushing and siezing as if the heartbeats are not even there. They see it coming, but still stay, letting the strom approach and knock down the strong well built wall that remains anything destructive. Water flushes over the lifeless, pale faces drowning at sea, desending into their demoralized lungs, drowning out any chance of screaming salvation. People around you only hear little cracks of your lurid voice. The rusted metal chains surrounding hear the undivided screams and thorw themselves out to retrieve what is left of thier slashed soul. Anchor's at the bottom of the sea, clutched with the sea floor, connected to the world itself. Scratched, damaged from the realm around it, all to keep the hast, beating hearts still at sea while the waves undermine the burly wall in an attempt to take over their whole way. The over run anchor is a savior, no matter how wounded it gets in the process.