Thunder Dome deja vu

@Elowen Aeloria

hopelessness, is what ikaros often felt these days. to be without purpose, and to be so alone. it's what he craved, as it's what he thinks he deserves. his mind has been as turbulent as the weather here, up on the highest point of the volcano. 

the storms reminded him of home, and it was a bittersweet sentiment. 

he thought he'd hated home. despised his people, his gods, his parents. despised the pedestal he'd been thrusted upon, the false title he'd worn before he up and deserted. it was the very place where the awful, gnawing feeling that made his chest feel oh so tight, had spawned. but now that he was truly alone...the tortured child within him missed it. 

at least there, he had a purpose, albeit one he could've never fulfilled. at least there, he had company who'd fawn at his feet. he had a title, a job...but here? in lands so far away, so unfamiliar? 

he's nothing. but perhaps he's always been nothing.

the journey to the peak is arduous and tough, though he refused to turn back. the dark clouds that brewed overhead, often illuminated by the lightning within, made him feel at ease. storms had always been magnificent to him; how something so destructive could be so beautiful...

perhaps it's how he wishes he could be seen. 

the rain pelts him in thick bullets, soaking his fur, causing it to curl at its edges. he doesn't mind the cool sting—it helps quiet his mind. each rumble of thunder, each strike of brilliant life, it helps him feel better, if only for a moment. 

so atop that peak he sits, soaked and cold, where the sobs that shake his chest are covered by the roar of the storm. he's scared, helpless, and defeated. perhaps, if he'd condemned himself to this peak, he'd be better off. 

there was no one to mourn him, anyway. up here, he could be taken by the storms he chased, and perhaps only then he'd feel happy.

the rain falls like a thousand shards of ice, stinging her skin and blurring her vision. the thunder rumbles in the distance, a deep and endless growl, while the lightning cracks through the blackened sky like a beast in pursuit of something beyond the horizon. with every step, the cold seeps deeper into her bones, but it’s nothing compared to the emptiness that often plagues her.

she’s not sure why she’s here, why she felt so compelled to climb this mountain, to fight against the storm that has swallowed everything in its wake. pure boredom, maybe — or perhaps she was tired of feeling lost.

the world around her feels so vast, so unreachable, and yet, there’s a sense of connection—the storm, the howling winds, the overwhelming beauty of destruction—everything seems to make sense up here, even if she doesn’t.

and then, as if the storm had carved a space just for her, she finds him.

sitting alone on the peak, his fur drenched and matted, his shoulders hunched as if carrying a weight no one could see. he looks as though the storm itself had claimed him, stripped him bare, and left him here to perish in solitude. the sight of him, so broken and so desperate, makes her chest tighten.

she doesn't call out to him, not yet. ahe lets the storm roar between them, and in the silence, she simply watches. she’s always been one to see, to listen, to feel when others are too lost to find their own way back.

she steps closer, the rain blurring her vision, her heart pounding like the thunder above them. it’s only when she’s near enough that her words break free—soft, tentative, as fragile as the storm around them.

"are you alright?"

@Elowen Aeloria

through the tumult of the thunder, a soft voice reaches him. calls out to him. for a moment, he feels as if it's some cruel joke. perhaps a figment of the imagination. as if  the loneliness had such a vice grip on his mind, it'd conjured voices just to torture him. 

no one cared. no one had ever cared. so why would they now? 

he whips his head toward that gentle cadence, only to find himself glaring teary-eyed at a woman. dainty, soft, beautiful. as if one harsh breeze from the storm would blow her off the peak, to her doom. his chest seizes tighter. 

it terrifies him. the last time he'd been in someone else's company, his father had laid still before him. but she's alive—or so he thinks. maybe she isn't real. either way, he struggles to pull himself together to muster an answer. an ugly sniffle, a subdued whine.

how pathetic. 

a strike of lightning briefly backlights his quivering frame, casting a sharp glint to his citrine eyes. "i'm fine." he lied. lying is easy, and what else was he to do? bare his turmoil on this woman, who he isn't sure is entirely there?

no. the pain and guilt is for him to deal with and he only. but gods above, does he wish to pass it onto someone else. to let someone shoulder his grief. 

"leave me alone—you...you shouldn't be up here." he rasped, almost pleading.

elowen steps closer, her feet light against the sodden ground, her breath shaky, but determined. the storm rages, a thousand voices of chaos echoing around them, but she hears him—sees him—like no one else could. his trembling figure, the pain in his eyes, the way he struggles to hold himself together. she could almost feel the weight of his grief, thick and suffocating, as if it was woven into the very air around them.

the words he speaks—so hollow, so full of fear—stab at her chest like sharp, cold needles. she recognizes that hurt. she feels it too, deep down in the marrow of her bones, a kindred ache, though perhaps it’s a different kind of sorrow. still, it resonates.

"you’re not fine," she whispers, the words carried away almost immediately by the wind, but she doesn’t mind. she doesn’t need him to hear her perfectly. she knows the storms they battle inside are far greater than the ones on the outside, but it doesn't make them any less real.

she isn’t sure what she’s doing, but something in her refuses to let him drown in his pain, in the dark that would so often consume. her voice trembles in the storm's rage, but there’s a softness to it, a kindness that cuts through the thunder. "you don't have to be alone," she murmurs, her eyes never leaving his, steady as the storm that threatens them both.

lips quivered, another pitiful sniffle that's masked by a clap of thunder. he curls into himself, head hanging, teeth gritting together. the pain was searing, overwhelming, and he was allowing it to swallow him whole. he couldn't meet those soft, sympathetic eyes, not when he imagined they were glaring at him with malice, with disappointment, as his mother once did. "you don't understand." he growled, whined. he choked on another sob, his eyes screwed shut. if he kept them closed, maybe the torrent of tears would stop. maybe she would disappear, and he'd be left alone again.

he doesn't deserve this kindness, and he mistakes it as pity. it makes him angrier. all anyone had ever shown him was pity or disdain. he certainly didn't want it from a stranger. a small part of him feels terrible, being so spiteful toward this woman. but the larger part of him sneers, reminds him that she doesn't care. he means nothing to her, so why would she?

"i deserve to be alone! you don't know what i've done." he rasped, voice cracking beneath the weight of his turmoil. the storm rages around them, fluctuating as if matching the violent tides of his mood. but all he can hear is the hissed words of his mother, and all he can feel is the ghost of a bite from his father. it's all consuming, detrimental. his teeth ache, as he wishes to sink them into his own flesh, to distract himself, or maybe to inflict the pain he believes he deserves. "i don't want your pity."