Tw: mild gore, mentions of death, kinda horni
Even as I slept, I worried.
It was an endless, empty void of concern. It felt boxy and claustrophobic. I seemed to just doze, not quite unconscious, yet not quite aware. My slumber was restless and I may as well just stayed awake, for what good it did.
But it wasn't worry for me. It was for Lloyd, for how another dissatisfying scenario had befallen him. I was tempted to believe that either he had terrible luck or, as the self-proclaimed fate's warrior, he was under herculean trials to prove his worth.
I wished there was more I could do. If it was what I suspected, then Lloyd shouldn't have to prove himself anymore than Uchū did - he's saved the world countless times. How much more worth could someone have in regards to Fate's finicky opinion?
It was weighing him down. With each hit, more weight was added. It was tiring him, I could tell. Mentally draining, sipping away his resolve. I worried that he'd crack. He'd break and shatter. There was only so much a person could deal with before it drove them off the edge. And none of it was even his fault, yet Lloyd's bravado, his duty or whatever excuse it was, seemed to make him think that it was.
But what could I do? Every time I tried to reassure him, to explain that he shouldn't shoulder this much blame, my words deemed useless.
That's not to say that he ignored me. It's just that no matter what I did, it seemed to concede in a restart, a reoccurring fiduciary that benefitted off of his downfall - I'd reassure him of something and then something worse would go wrong, and Lloyd would take the blame once more.
He'd stay stuck in the same position as before, forever at a stalemate.
And it seemed that I couldn't do anything to help him, except for tirelessly continuing to support him. To hope that he would let me shoulder at least some of the weight that came with who he is. But I doubted that he would. He feared that even the slightest bit of it would crush me.
I was scared for myself, of course. If this vision really was some kind of prophecy dream, then it would mean that I wouldn't die old and peaceful as I hoped - I would be murdered. And like any other sane person, the thought of my impending homicide made me uneasy.
I just hoped that Lloyd and I could do what we do best - fuck up the prophecy.
The morning was subdued and thick with unspoken words. My eyes peeled open tiredly, feeling not at all rejuvenated. My chest felt heavy, as if the prophecies themselves decided to make my lungs their perch.
I dragged in a breath and looked for Lloyd.
Unsurprisingly, I was alone.
A sigh slipped from my lips at the revelation. The sun was above the sea, and I found myself finding it odd to wake so late in comparison to the past couple of months, which had me waking well before the sun. Waking so late made me sluggish and dreary. It was still so early in the morning, probably only eight, yet I felt as if I had just ruined the entire day.
Well, nothing I could do about it. What's done was done.
My bare feet hit the wood of Lloyd's room and I found myself sitting on the edge of the mattress instead of standing like I had intended on doing. I stared at the drawings done in the clumsy hand on the walls, roving my eyes over the crayon graffiti. My heart caught when I found the first of many sketches of a green figure next to one of peach.
The weight continued to press down. Maybe Lloyd was right. Maybe I couldn't handle it.
Then how on earth could he shoulder it all on his own?
A present-day Atlas, keeping the world from collapsing.
He's not even a proper adult yet, not really. Nineteen is still so young. Was this what fate had intended? A child soldier to fight their wars?
I should stop thinking like that. My thoughts would lead me down a path of things that I couldn't help and the helpless pull on my heart would continue to swell until I was nothing but a husk of despair and hopelessness.
Hopelessness is dangerous. Hopelessness is death.
My feet lead me through the halls of the Bounty, summer humidity pressing down onto me and curling my hair. If I had to remove any more layers then I may as well remove the very skin off my body. It was even hotter on the deck.
