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Foolish sucked in a breath.
The air trapped in his lungs wouldn’t move; it remained stuck inside of him.
There were voices around him telling him to calm down, to put down his blood-stained sword and to think with a clear head.
But the air was trapped in his lungs; it wouldn’t move.
He wouldn’t move.
His fingers tightened on the hilt of his sword, squeezing the purple ribbon that was wrapped carefully around his weapon. It was the only thing he could feel.
Static was playing in his mind, he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see beyond the horizon of an island that only wanted him to suffer. He knew it was too easy, that the Federation wouldn’t let him go without a scare, a proper warning.
That not even a God was immune to human weaknesses.
That they could still feel; that he could feel.
It didn’t matter the smiles, the cheerful tone or even the playful glimmer of his emerald eyes as he ran amongst the other islanders. It didn’t matter the poses, the costumes or his painted purple claws that his new friends decorated for him. It didn’t matter the laughter, the new jokes or the new location that promised him a life of chaos and fun. None of it mattered.
Because in the end, Foolish was still foolish. And like his namesake, he’d continued to wander the world with memories of old and new filling up his empty heart.
He was a fool to think that two years was enough time.
“-fighting with an egg!”
“No, no, it’s not my first time fighting with an egg and it’s not going to be my last either!”
The words were pulled out him, desperate and insane as he struggled to reign in his anger. He could feel the warming of his palms, the dangerous dance of electricity that thrummed beneath his skin and the gentle rumblings of the clouds overhead. He couldn’t lose control; he mustn’t.
He tried to breathe, gasping for air that refused to come to him as if there wasn’t already enough of the world not giving him what he wanted or needed.
He wanted Leo.
He needed air.
Someone reached for his sword, their words not reaching his mind and jerking violently back as he subconsciously released electricity from his skin.
They yelped in shock.
Foolish forced his legs to move, backpedalling away from the suddenly suffocating crowd while his lungs kept screaming at him to inhale. He still wasn’t breathing.
He needed air.
He needed Leo.
His trembling hands reached desperately for the warpstone by his hip, not caring for the clattering of his sword or the panicked yells that tried to reach him. It was too much, too soon and he needed to leave.
Magic swirled around him with the purple particles whisking him away from the dangerous situation and instantly collapsing on his knees as air finally reached him. He dug his claws into the soft dirt below with his lungs thanking him for the oxygen. His mind cleared from the static that tried to consume him as his thoughts finally pulled themselves together and the electricity dialing back down to its usual thrum beneath his golden scales. He rubbed the centre of his chest with the palm of his hand, calming himself down in the quiet of his little island, protected by his dragon build. With a sigh, Foolish rested on his knees and closed his eyes, letting the world wash over him like he used to do so long ago. It soothed him, pretending for just a brief moment that he hadn’t felt human, hadn’t felt alive and crumbling all because of a simple little egg.
It wasn’t supposed to matter. He couldn’t let it matter, because if he did then it’d all be real again. He’d be back there, standing on that empty shore on an empty island with an empty heart that refused to repair itself. All alone and silent while the world around him reset, watching the invisible strings and unseen hands that forged a story no one else could see. Islands being pulled from the ocean floor, decorated with new life and new creatures that were placed amongst the lands.
He watched the radiation of his old home fade away to nothing more than a lingering memory, leaving only old burn marks as a reminder; the only real documentation that such an island existed in the first place. He watched the disappearances of his friends and family; their bodies reduced to ash and shadows that sunk with the island. And he watched the Federation clean all of it up, moving workers, bears and even buildings across the ocean with precision mimicking that of the soulless beings that they were. Like they weren’t at fault of all that went wrong, as if none of it mattered.
And it shouldn’t, not to him at least.
It shouldn’t have mattered.
Foolish chuckled weakly, his arms hanging limply by his side as he opened his eyes and stared tearfully at the dark sky above. The stars twinkled beautifully from his view below, their brightness matching that of his dragon’s eyes. If he stared hard enough, he could almost pretend that there were people with him. That he wasn’t alone.
He could see a feathered, blue-haired hybrid laughing at him from the opening of the dragon’s mouth. Imaging her waving at him with the usual enthusiasm in her purple eyes and matching injuries from whatever shared adventure they’d just come from. He could see a flash of white and brown racing between the newly built dragon teeth, before a feline-like head popped out from behind one of the lower fangs. One of his bandaged arms hugging the tooth, while the other simple waved more calmly like he had all the time in the world and all the theories to share. And of course, he saw blurs of tiny eggs dropping down from the top of the dragon head to join the rest of the family inside the mouth. All of them huddling together with cheeky giggles and quiet whispers that always gave away their little plans.
Foolish reached for them, a reminiscent smile on his face as he imagined them reaching for him too. He could feel them calling for him, saying that they missed him and that he could join them if he just tried hard enough.
Then he blinked.
Foolishly.
And they all drifted away like the rest of his old world; their quiet laughter echoing in his mind as the last thing he’ll ever remember of them.
“Fuck.” He whispered to no one, curling in on himself as the tears kept falling.
It wouldn’t stop hurting and it was only then that he realised, it probably never will. The ache in his heart would never be filled, only softened over more years of living that he didn’t feel like taking. He didn’t want to keep existing, but the choice was already out of his hands, it was the only thing he could do. It was the only thing he had no control over.
A pained sob wracked his body, forcefully pushing his head into the soft dirt to remind himself that he was here. This was his life and it shouldn’t be this hard to just keep going; it was only two years ago.
It was only two years, and they managed to change him, they changed his heart, his soul and his mind, making him care for mortals that were always going to die regardless of the fate of the island. He was going to mourn them forever, carrying their memories and faint touches of their skin when he could still hug them. When he could feel them and know that they were real, listening to their heartbeats with the quiet fear of outliving them all.
It was always inevitable, but he didn’t remember it hurting quite this much.
The hybrid let his tears saturate the earth, unbothered by the dirt that clung to his face or the cold air that wrapped itself around his body. He breathed in the smell of the soil and let his body waste away on the grass as he felt the familiar pulls of sleep lulling him away to a better world.
And he dreamt of familiar figures dancing around a fire with Brazilian music playing in the background. And he dreamt of dancing in a large bedroom to the sound of English and Spanish being sung like a lullaby. And he dreamt of running wildly in a field of green with a team of masked individuals running alongside him.
Foolish dreamt and the world kept spinning around him.
As is the life of an immortal God.