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It had been a long time since Flame had stopped to rest; To just take a breather and cool off before continuing his search for those who were able to teach him new things. It took a long time to find these people scattered across Unstable.
He didn’t want to stop, Flame had told himself as honestly as he could, but he inevitably ended up against a tree. Taking off his helmet to finally let himself breathe, the snow made a good cushion for its fall once Flame tossed it aside.
With each new biome he passed through, every new place he ventured, he met people. He reunited with his brother, too. It was a great feeling. It was addictive to know he would soon be able to live up to his name again, properly this time. He was getting stronger just like he had hoped for.
So why did he still feel lonely?
Even with Mane’s reassurance, Flame felt cold. He didn’t know whether it was the snow cooling his armour, or his frostbitten fingers. Maybe it was the fact that at any second, he could be overpowered once more and wrung dry of his pride all over again. Maybe it was the fact that there was a chance his title would be ripped away from him once more, after everything he’s done to keep it close. Close…
Deep down, Flame knew it wasn’t any of those reasons. He wasn’t someone who could easily succumb to the cold, nor was he one to give up after a loss so stupidly unfair. Sighing, Flame watched two things with far more attention than those things deserved.
The freezing of his breath midair, and the unmoving mace in front of him. Neither were spectacular to him, really. They never were, and never would be, he convinces himself. He’s hesitant to believe what his own thoughts had to say.
Many would be excited over the mace, many would be infatuated with the freezing of breath midair. The only thing that was mildly entertaining was the cold metal handle of Lomedy’s mace. Flame wasn’t one of those people who was interested in things much simpler than that, he has been knowing that fact for a long time. Longer than he had previously thought, and focus drifted away from estimation. Rather, Flame was much more interested in the light in front of him.
Such a familiar feeling, seeing that light reflect off of his armour.
Right. It had been a while since he’d seen that face. After all, it had been so long since he’d last seen Lomedy. Flame doesn’t remember the details on his outfit like before, nor the shade of his hair, accessories. He doesn’t remember his eyes like before, but he will always remember the way his lips curved upwards with each new thing that came his way.
It was stupid. Lomedy lived a life too simple for Flame to understand. It was an otherworldly concept for someone to be so interested in such things like greenery. It was an otherworldly concept for someone to be interested in something so sickeningly mundane.
Flame just didn’t get it. He wouldn’t understand, and he believed he would never get that luxury; Because he is Flame, not some random player who no one knew about. Sometimes, he wished he was innocent enough to understand other peoples lighthearted views. Maybe he could have been a better person, for Lomedy.
If he was here, maybe he would understand much faster. Maybe if there was another person beside him, with childlike fascination drifting through the cold air, he would understand. Maybe if Lomedy was here, he would fill that role. If Lomedy was here, maybe things would be better. If Lomedy was here, would he feel less lonely?
All the questions drifting throughout his mind will forever remain unanswered the longer he stays here. Illogically, he hopes one day he would understand the way Lomedy thinks, so nothing like this would ever happen again. Logically, he knows that it was just some fantasy. Some random, delirious delusion he so desperately wanted to be nonfiction.
The light in front of him was just a reminder of just how cruel reality could get. Lomedy was similar to the sun, in a way, but with the light in front of Flame so dim, he knew it wouldn’t be who he hoped it was. It was just him and the moon there tonight, no one else.
Despite knowing this, Flame couldn’t extinguish the small sparks of hope every time he improved. Every time he got stronger. Though, even if he did know every if statement would never truly be a when, it was much too difficult to even attempt to put out. Every unanswered question simply motivated him more to find answers. To find his friend again.
Maybe, just for a little bit, Flame would let himself run on the thin ropes of hope in his mind. He would be like a circus animal to the predators out there, like he was dangling on a thin piece of thread, ready to fall and take failure to the face once more, sure. But if it helped Flame reach the end of whatever journey this was faster, he’d get to see Lomedy again. He would understand the depth of which he could understand the other, once more. He doubts the other would see him the same, but just the thought of seeing him okay. It would be worth it,
He doesn’t know if he would so easily forgive himself if he were the reason for Lomedy’s ban.
So, Flame got up again. He let himself be carried by hopes current as the snow beneath him crunched with each step he took. The metal of the mace in his hand didn’t seem so cold, and he didn’t seem to feel too cold, either. It was still scratching at him, but for once, it didn’t bother him as much as usual. As much as it did before.
Just this once, he’ll let himself indulge. This might be a weakness, a strong one at that, but time and time again, Flame had gotten back up despite each setback.
So, there was no point in not riding out the waves of hope, just today.
Just tonight he’ll continue his journey accompanied by hope.
Hope?
Lomedy doesn’t think it was worth hoping anymore. Especially with the conditions of the cell he was in. The bed barely qualified to just be described as a place to sleep. Even if it did properly qualify, it was much too cold in the prison to get proper sleep.
So much for a great, responsible future leader.
The time was unknown, an unfamiliar concept to Lomedy by now. How many days has he been in this place? He had lost count by the twentieth day. All he knew were approximate times, and he could safely assume it was probably past 12 since the guards already exchanged shifts quite a bit ago.
He sighed as he tossed and turned in his cell. Never in his life has Lomedy felt such high levels of dread for the day and low levels of optimism. He didn’t feel like himself, not even close.
Was it really worth it to allow himself to be held accountable for what Flame had done? Lomedy was just a farmer, he never wanted to be involved in something so serious on a server where he was just having fun, following whatever rules were put up.
He recalls the days of The Invisible Mafia, and compared to now, it wasn’t all that different. There was one thing that was different, and it was the fact he was alone. No one was going to be in front of him to pick up the pieces of what was happening right now. Lomedy had to learn to rely on himself more. He doesn’t need to rely on anyone but himself in this place.
At some point, he has to let go of the memory of his old teammate. At some point, the thought of Flame would go away and leave him alone for once. Maybe if the latter decided it would bless itself to become true, Lomedy wouldn’t feel as troubled as he was now.
He can’t keep dwelling on the past, but old habits die hard, and he can’t bring himself to stop his thoughts from drifting from one thing to another. Though, it will always end the same. It has been ending the same, and always will be unless Lomedy takes the first step of many.
Was that really possible right now? Lomedy felt like he was being frozen alive, and with the thin fabric of the prison jumpsuit, it only helped to worsen the numbing of his fingers. He breathed into his palms before rubbing them together, hoping the heat created from the friction of his hands would warm him up at least a little more.
He was bound to get sick like this. Was The Law really serving justice, or were they just seeking power over everyone else? Was this what Flame was referring to? With wanting to prove skill beat power and cheats?
Lomedy doesn’t recall catching any sort of sickness when a wave of nausea travels through him when he finally understands what Flame meant in full. It wasn’t morally right what either of them were doing, but who was Lomedy to judge? He was simply an onlooker of this whole ordeal, and all he could do was watch until someone intervened.
Despite each attempt of fighting back, every time he got motivation to intervene in any conflict, he was never truly strong enough. If he couldn’t prove himself there, what would Lomedy do? He was powerless, fatigued, and cold. He couldn’t intervene even if he did have the will to do so, to put it simply. He wished everything could be simple the way words could easily be formed into something of the sort. Maybe that was the reason he was so reliant.
Lomedy missed what he had before, his simple lifestyle was far from gone, now.
Waking up every morning and tending to each individual plant with care as delicate as he could. Feeding the animals and making sure they were well cared for. And after all that, he would teach others how to do the same thing, meticulously.
But the further Lomedy recalls, the simpler the times got. The further he went in his memory, the more he yearned for what he used to have. Despite everything that had happened between them, the memories made with Flame stuck out like a sore thumb in his mind.
The way he would complain about how he lived his life. The way he would laugh at what stupid thing Lomedy pulled out next. The way he would repeatedly, time and time again, help him out even when the motive to would be gone. No one but him and Lomedy shared those memories like they did.
Nothing could make Lomedy despise Flame more than he did now, he told himself. One day, Lomedy would believe the words that he was convinced he had to believe. One day, Flame wouldn’t make him so reliant on the past for comfort. So reliant on everybody but himself.
Though, Lomedy hopes Flame was doing okay. Even when he was getting taken in by the law, how betrayed he felt when Flame really did just run. Deep down, he couldn’t hate him, he couldn’t bring himself to utter those words without feeling terrible afterwards.
Maybe, just maybe, things wouldn’t end like how things did before Flame barged into his life. He wouldn’t have to see him die with nothing he could do, especially with the fact he was behind bars for an indefinite amount of time.
Was it bad he now yearned for the morning to arrive faster? Despite the dread constantly churning deep in his stomach, Lomedy hopes Loppezz would show her face again. He hopes she would tell everyone to get up to get some breakfast right now without delay, because despite all the dread, it would provide a distraction good enough to get his mind off of Flame.
He didn’t want to think about him right now. He never wanted to hold onto his memory like this. Lomedy never wanted anything big, he never asked for more than he needed. So, why was he punished so badly? He rolls on the mattress below him until he hits the cold stone wall.
One day, this would all be over. He would get to leave one day, right? All Lomedy could really do was pray because he couldn’t bring himself to start hoping again.
If he did begin, he knew it would end badly for himself.