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Wind from the late night woods brush against the fairy king's smooth skin, his figure floating slowly behind the other sins, the space between them advancing more and more as time goes on while he listens to the incoherent words spike from their lips with haste. As the time continues to trek onward, the brunette slows in pace and descends lower and lower to the prickly gravel below his them. The echoing sounds of the group's footsteps begin to ring loudly throughout his head, ears pounding from the unreleased pressure. when did it get so loud?
The Sloth Sin tries to reclaim his composer, attempting to fall back into his role as the apathetic with no complaints before the eyes of others drift towards him and everything drop. I can't feel my legs..
...
Soft shine of the new day glints against the reflective fabric of the tent. Seeping into the enclosed space through small unpatched holes and shining directly onto the Sloth's pale face. In and out, in and out. His chest rises and falls on autopilot, shaky breathing halting his oxygen intake just as the fall breeze sweeps away the golden leaves from the ground. The time since the beloved wrath sin passed now feels like it flies by without even the slightest second glance, feeling like everything they do, no matter the feat, is a waste of their oh so short lifespan. Maybe if he hadn't left the tree, stayed with the fairies- or maybe if their captain was still here, then everything would go back to normal, maybe than he'd begin to feel like himself again. Not just an extra sack of adventuring weight on the group or an exile by his kingdom's standards. Maybe then he'd feel like he's alive again.
His half lidded dirt brown eyes sluggishly flutter open to squint at the shadows outside the tent as they move back and forth. The violent thrumming in his head only worsening, pulsing with the need to relax back into the feeling of the void, to let his body sink farther and farther. Soft but irritating fabric underneath him shuffles with his unsteady movement while he props himself up on his elbows, hoping the elevation will help in even the slightest. Though the lack of strength makes even the smallest achievement feel like he's climbing a mountain.
"-should have seen this coming…"
His pointy ears ring at the clips of voice he is able to pick up, though being cut off from the source of information, the noise in his head drowning out the noise outside.
"It's not- -fault!"
They seem so angry, or is it stressed? The weight eventually growing too heavy to bare, pushing the fairy down against the flooring now unable to rise once more. Am.. am I the problem…?
Tears well and fall from the somber eyes, the area around him closing in, now feeling claustrophobic and blank. His light fading along with his body, the only thing left wrapped in the cloth below is a weapon made from the same tree as the fairy king himself…