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How do you find your worth in the world?
Is it experiences that come your way? Is it the people you surround yourself with? Is it the sheer will to disappoint the world’s expectations for you to crumble?
These are thoughts Devan considers often. They don’t often feel like the world needs them here - and it’s not really a bad thing. Some people are here to make an impact in the world. They aren't one of them. They can see themself participating from the background, aiding their companions' coup to overthrow the corrupt system, but they can’t see themselves spotlight. They just weren’t made for that. However, Devan is aware that their partner Phi lives for it. He could convince someone with just a snap of his fingers and a smile that doesn't reach his eyes, easily swaying the people’s opinions in their favor. Phi loves the spotlight, and loves the praise - it would be a better environment than the negativity of Devan’s brooding.
Devan has a rule they've followed longer than any other - always having three failsafes to avoid slinking into the shadows. The first would be their liabilities. No matter how often Phi tries to charm all of them into thinking they're "friends" (they're all barely allies, and that's even under a truce), none of them ever try to hide their urges to draw a knife to each other's throats. What keeps them from this and makes them liabilities is the gift curse they share, where if one dies they all will follow suit. Devan is sure it's the only reason that they haven't stuffed Dimos' body in a burning building yet. For now, they need to stay close and make sure their dumbass and the other two don't die.
The second reason, and the one they enjoy the most, is pure spite. All the upper class that enjoyed watching them suffer, who told them they would die before they could ever amount to anything - Devan lives for the fear that all the wealthy have of them now. Living to this point was one of the biggest "fuck you's" they could give to all those officials who watched the silver blood drip from their trembling, young body. They want them to understand that their biggest mistake that day wasn't not betting on the right fighter, but for allowing Devan to continue in the ring, continue fighting for their life.
Finally, the reason they even started all those years ago, is the liberation of this god-forsaken city. If Devan left those who are innocent or not to rot under the governors' iron thumb, they would be no better than those who imprisoned the city to begin with.
Devan has a feeling their rag-tag (and not at all good) group will inevitably succeed, and they hope that their ancestors who whisper in the stars are right in their predictions. To win would be gratifying, to finish the goal that they and others have spent years (and would spend centuries) trying to accomplish. However, this notion also frightens them, for what is waiting for them after they finally cross that horizon? What purpose will their life hold? There's no need for them to stick around if their second and third failsafes don't matter. Devan can't deny the unrefusable fact that this world has no place for someone who’s outlived their purpose.
But what has Devan even contributed in the long run? It took years for their efforts to finally start coming to fruition, and it will take even longer for them to possibly succeed. Do they even deserve to say that they were a part of this plan? Devan can see how much their allies have contributed - Phi has risked his life over and over by throwing himself straight into the fray, to the point that Devan has lost track of how many funerals they've had to call off. Vence has used her...sadistic side creatively, and takes full advantage of her looks to charm herself into getting intel. Devan will never admit it to her face, but they find her laidback attitude impressive and find slivers of amusement in her woven tales of her escapades. They remember once asking her if she feared death, to which Vence laughed and told her that to truly live you must truly risk everything. Champions above, even though Devan has planned multiple ways to end Dimos' infuriating existence, they still have begrudging respect for what he does. Being an official member of the upper class himself, if any of those in power found out about his double-crossing hobbies any traces of him would disappear in an instant. Dimos' ability to stay under the radar for so long is a feat none of their group can replicate. However, the infuriating fact that he does so well only hits a deep pool of worthlessness in their heart. Compared to the others, they don't do anything quite as grandiose. They do any work that is left or unwanted - and that is how they often feel when alone out in the field.
When Devan finally figured out these thoughts, it didn't take them long to accept them. It just made sense to them, just the way the cards were dealt. Sometimes Devan forgets the odd reactions of those they surround themselves with. Once when Vence and Devan were trailing someone at a festival, they pointed out their observation of their position. Vence contemplated quietly before grabbing Devan's arm to their surprise, and directed them away from their target and towards the many games. Even though Devan's annoyance at losing the aristocrat was clearly seen by Vence, she instead ignored it and challenged them to multiple games. After a few rounds of begrudging agreement, Devan pointed out the fact that every game that has been picked has all been in their skill range, and not in Vence's. She merely mischievously grinned and challenged them to another game.
The time they made the mistake of mentioning it to Phi during one of their dinner outings (which Phi always calls a date, not that Devan is complaining), they caught a glance of Phi staring at them softly. He reached across the table and gently grabbed their hand, his smile not being his normal chaotic one but instead one full of compassion. He reminded them of how much they do for the team, and Devan is sure he exaggerated how much they plan and scout locations. Devan recalled how much he continued to pamper them throughout that day, and how they kept finding little gifts on their pillow for the following week.
However, the reaction that puzzled them the most had to Dimos'. The two of them were on the balcony of Dimos' penthouse, Dimos was drinking wine as Devan swirled theirs (Devan has learned that everything editable in Dimos' penthouse is poisoned, so there is no reason to bother consuming anything) while they leaned against the balcony. Devan was trading snide remarks with him before they mentioned it, more as an aside to themself. They noticed that Dimos hadn't responded yet, instead, they heard the sound of his chair shift and the click of his high heels as he came up to lean against the railing with Devan. He didn't say anything, and they both just stood in silence as they looked over the neon lights of the city. The silence wasn't like their normally tense atmosphere, rather it was more serene. His eyes briefly glanced at them before settling on the starry horizon.
"You matter." Dimos finally spoke. "Don't let your mind convince you otherwise."
Devan's eyes flickered to look at Dimos. He was lost in thought, a frown on his face. For a moment, Devan felt like they both might be in the same boat and didn't know how to swim.
Dimos chuckled to himself, leaving whatever thoughts he had in his mind. His eyes moved to meet Devan's, and he slyly smirked. "After all, there's not as much fun around here if I can't ruin your day." Dimos laughed at Devan's scowl, but deep down Devan could feel the small smile that threatened to rise to the surface.
Maybe their life has more meaning than they thought.
After a few strenuous months of hard work, Devan begrudgingly finds themself at a New Year's party that Dimos is throwing. They stand in a corner near the open fire, watching some guests throw in their resolutions or letters to themselves. Their gaze shifts down to the two folded slips in their hand - one they wrote to themself when everything first started happening, and one they wrote for their future self. They unfurled the older one, looking at it briefly.
What will be left for those without purpose?
They fold it back up, casting it without a glance into the burning flames. They walk towards the main ballroom, easily slipping their new piece of paper into a hidden jar seated on a shelf. The paper flutters down, and lands between three other folded slips of paper, their own resolutions within. Devan doesn't pause for a moment, continuing onward to join their companions in conversation. Perhaps they will take a step from the shadows into the spotlight this year, and be the light in other's darkness.
What is left for those without purpose is the chance to start anew. It might not be now, but you will find your place in the world. No matter what part you play, it is a part with meaning. The passage of time cannot continue no matter the size of the cog that's missing. Continue forward, progress, and arise anew. For the darkness gives way to the light, and it's only your choice when the sun rises.
- Devan Beaux