The knock on effects

Day Six

His vision was foggy. How long had he been staring mindlessly at the ceiling for?

A small digital clock beeped by his bedside, showing that it was the following day already.

What's the point?

Laying with his arms outstretched on his bed, he tried to think of a reason to get out of his room. Fresh air? He could open his windows for that. Food? He had a stash of sweets and chocolates that he could occupy himself with, if need be. Interactions? Well, aside from Sword and Blade, there wasn't all too much of a reason.

Sword and Blade.

The two were his loyal followers, impressed by his skills and abilities, forever indebted to him because he spared them in a battle and rescued them from a demon beast, Wolfwrath.

I should check up on them, since they've more than likely grown curious as to where I've been.

Staring at the clock with fuzzy eyesight, he decided that it would be a wiser idea if he checked on them later. They respected his privacy, to an extent where they could leave him alone for days straight if he requested it. Though, they couldn't see a reason for him to spend days on end, alone. Even if they didn't serve as moral support, they brought up the mood and were there no matter what.

Having them by his side, admiring him for everything he pretended to be was something he had adjusted into his life. Their portrayal of him was probably what everybody else thought, with a tiny bit of backstory added in; he was nothing more than a hollow shell of a swordsman, left to carry the burden of his friends' deaths, yet act like nothing had happened.

No, he was an incredible fighter, particularly skilled with swords, and yes, he had been burdened with the guilt of his friends' deaths,but he didn't act like nothing happened. He hid what he wanted, showing the people an amazing show that they didn't realise they were watching.

Sometimes, he just wished that people saw past it all and realised that mixed in with the awesome backstory were cries for help.

Pulling his cape closer to his body, he shuddered because of the cold and the sorrow. Jecra meant so much to him, and people think that he slayed him without a second thought? Having to watch that brave warrior (who had been there to whole battle, lifting spirits and bettering atmosphere) struggle to breathe, life slowly snuffing out of him and know that he was the one who plunged that sword into his chest. Sometimes, he wished that he was the one who'd taken the sword in the gut, just so he wouldn't have to hold that guilt on his shoulders. What was worse about that night was how he smiled on his deathbed, insisting that he'd be the one to slay Nightmare, it made him regret starting the whole war.

The same thing with Garlude; she was such a charming and powerful warrior, noble and obedient. The day they had to reclaim Galaxia was yet another terrible memory, flashing in his mind at the worst of times. Having to see her tremble, electricity flowing through her body as though she were conducting it like a wire, only to throw it to him so he could escape with the blade.

When he stopped thinking, he found himself shaking, tears streaming down his face. Crying was something that he never let anyone saw him do, because if anyone ever saw him that low, it would definitely be taken advantage of. Emotion was a sign of weakness, he'd heard Nightmare say, and weakness meant defeat. Any monster who did so much as smile or cry would face death. None of his army was allowed to feel emotion or having opinions, that was what was so awful. He allowed the tears to stream, since he couldn't stop them. It's not like anyone saw or heard him, since it was midnight and nobody was awake at that time aside from the Waddle Dees, and they didn't say a word.

Sometimes he wondered if they even had a conscience, since they all acting like no more than puppets, serving a king who had kicked them to the curb on many occasions, only to have them return when the castle was terrorised by a demon beast he had ordered. Truly a toxic relation.
______________________________

Tiff was unable to sleep, haunted by the fact that he could've done something terrible to himself. For all she knew, he could be lying dead on the floor, having allowed his worst thoughts to twist his perspective. No, he was stronger than that.

I can't help but feel guilty, but what more can I do? The people that push away are the ones who usually need help the most, and I know he desperately needs someone there for him. He needs somebody to just listen, and he'll feel better.

Turning over onto her other side, she glared at her window, begrudgingly. Dedede, he was the one making the swordsman's life a living embodiment of hell. It was his fault that he felt afraid to leave his room, or so she thought. She wasn't around him always, so there was a chance that he'd left without her knowing. But, after the TV harassment, that chance was slimming drastically.

He did say that he didn't want her pity for self-gain, but was bettering your mental state really a self-gain themed motive? Especially when there were the darkest thoughts in there?

Her body jolted upright the second she heard a door opening, only to slump back down at the realisation that it was her brother, raiding the fridge for snacks to eat. He was staying over at a friend's house, and he'd taken a spare key along to make sure that, if he got scared being away from home, he could return whenever. He then left, taking the snacks back to Iroo's house. He knew that their parents were busy out on a trip, and he took full advantage of it. The expression on her face probably was a mixture of amusement, disappointment and carelessness.

She stared off into the main portion of the apartment; it was so empty without the rest of her family there. Sometimes, it was worth debating whether or not they genuinely cared about setting an example as the Chief Cabinet Minister and his loving wife.

Laying on her back, she snaked her hands under her pillows, feeling the chilled sides, before shutting her eyes in hopes of tomorrow being better.