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A perfect, kind-hearted, genuine, warm protector.
A soft spoken, compassionate "person" to always help out joyfully without complaint.
Someone to take their side, protect them from harm, and love doing so.
Someone to always be by them, care for them.
To help them, forever.
That is what they want.
Until it isn't.
Solar was not dumb despite what they claim. They knew they could never be all of those things. They are a person, who grows tired, and weary. One who can become angry or irritable. Can be anxious or afraid. Sad, and lonely.
There was no way for them to be all that was expected of them. They never wanted things to be this way. But soon the stool they had been placed on was raised far beyond that of a pedestal and there was no longer a safe way down.
Despite their pleas to not be seen as a saint. To just be a person to these people, it all went unheard and ignored.
Any slip-ups that did not match the image they created of Solar, brought scorn. Scorn that crept along them, cold, like ice.
They were always a warm person. Physically, and emotionally. But as the people's scorn, distaste, disgust, anger, desperation, despair, and grief washed over them. They found themself colder then they had ever been before. How hard it was to do anything when everything felt so wrong. When everything was so heavy and hopeless. Oh how they wished they could finally give up and rest..
However, to give up was certain death. Not only for them, but for all life as it is known.
No, they could never give up. Their love for the people, even those who hurt them, was stronger than their own desperate need to be seen and held just like everyone else. Their childlike plea to be listened to, find help and the safety they so desperately craved was silenced.
For the people did not listen.
For the people did not care to.
What else was there left to do but perform? Take the images the people had crafted, and mold themself into that perfect design they were thought to be. Be just as they imagined: Benevolent, kind, warm and bright. Their shining light, their saviour. The one to give them all warmth.
Their warmth.
For a while, it was working. They perfected their act of the benevolent saint. Perfectly poised, composed, always having a nice thing to say, kind, merciful, and helpful to no end.
The people loved it! Finally some warmth was returned. It was good, they were finally doing something right! Yet...
It wasn't enough.
Why?
Why wasn't it enough?
Haven't they done enough?
Given enough?
Why is it still not working?
Why can they not be happy like the rest?
What is wrong with them?
Do they just need to wait longer?
Maybe that is it... yes, they can be patient...
So they waited. They continued to try. But nothing came close to warming their frigid core. Nothing came close to lifting the great weight laid upon them from childhood. Nothing made them feel warm.
They faltered. A momentary slip up. The first in a long while. The people dismissed it as a fluke, surely their saviour was not flawed as they were!
Solar knew better. They knew this was unsustainable. They have little else to give. They can not continue with this weight pressing down on them.
Another falter. The people began to notice.
The stares became sharp. Cold icicles speared through them, felt only by them.
One person, charming, sweet, and filled with their warmth breaks through the cold. She lays a hand on their shoulder. Concern present in her gaze.
They smile, trying to dismiss it. Pretend nothing is amiss as always, but the cold is spreading. The warmth of her hand, and her care is not enough.
The voice they silenced is rising, threatening to bubble over. It rises to the tip of their tongue, almost escaping. They bite it back, desperate to keep up this facade.
"Solar, are you okay?"
Time freezes. They can't move.
The dam breaks. Emotions overcome them. The voice that leaves them sounds so foreign it is hard to believe it is theirs.
"...No.."
A gasp resounds, or maybe it doesn't. They try to take it back, waving their hands saying words they can not hear. They are drowning in their own feelings.
It is all too much.
The people are not believing them.
They are not listening.
It is loud..
Too loud.
Make it stop...
Make it stop.
Make it stop!
...Suddenly, it is quiet.
They're not sure what they said, or did. Or if they did anything at all.
They just know, they are here, wherever here is, on the ground, collapsed. Brought to their knees from the depths of their own sorrow. Alone.
Any relief from being away from their mistake is soon crushed by the weight of their situation and emotions.
A pained whine escapes them. The first of many hot tears following close behind.
What are they to do now? They knew they could not handle this, but they thought they could find a way. Why can't they do this? Why aren't they enough? Why isn't what they get back enough? How much more do they have to give?
...how much more do they have to give..?
With no answer but the resounding silence, they curl in on themself. Alone, and lonely. Stuck, and trapped as if frozen in time again. Frozen like stone.
...Is that the only way?
Is there no other?
Is there no one to help? Or protect them?
...Will no one protect the guardian as the guardian protects them?
Will no one love the one who gives love?
Will no one care for the one who cares and hold them gently?
Is there no one who can hold them and take some of this weight from them without falling?
They despair, and sob. Body wracked with the weight of grief hundredfold.
Grief for the life they long for.
Grief for what could have been.
Grief for all they lose now.
Grief of all that can never be.
All seems hopeless. Like there is nothing more then an eternity frozen and aware for everyones sake. An eternity of torture, to endure for nothing, for no end in sight. But.. just when they begin to find it truly hopeless, a thought occurs to them.
...Can't they be those things for themself?
The shock of it snaps them out of their despair. Unfurling and sitting up with a sniffle.
Be those things... for themself? How could they do that?
They ponder this new idea, hope rekindled once again.
Be a Guardian for themself... Caretaker for themself...
They suppose it makes more sense then having someone else take care of or support them, but they can hardly help others as is so how could they possibly help themself?
The answer comes to them naturally. Warmth.
Their soul pulses slowly in their chest.
Warmth... the power to overcome the cold. To burn it all away. Right at their fingertips.
How could they have not realized they could make themself better? Better, like people want. Better like they need.
They smile wearily, the most genuine they have in a long time.
They can do this. They can still make this work. They can become their own protector. Their own lover. Their own caretaker. Their own support system that will not falter or fall! The person they need themself to be to survive.
They embrace the warmth their soul brings. Its light and airy feel surrounds them, melting away the weight of everything. They stand up, easier then ever before.
A smile grows, and a giggle rings out. All the worries of before hidden even deeper beneath this contented bliss.
There Solar rests beneath it all, a temporary reprieve.
Another laugh echoes in the empty world. It lifts their hood, and tilts their crown.
Imperfection is the greatest perfection. This they truly believe and keep hidden in their heart where Solar lies safe from all harm and piercing eyes. Surrounded by the warmth and love they crave, they can finally rest.
It breathes in slowly, then out.
Finally.
Finally they can do this. They can succeed.
Finally they can be someone to always be by their side to care for them.
Someone to help them, forever.
That is what they want.
And for once,
It is not the people's wish that has been heard and granted.
Welcome to the world, Radiant.