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Flight was an important thing to birds.
a stress reliever, a way of freedom, or just a way to get around- removing one’s ability to fly was just cruel. a bird without wings is just another fowl meat laid on a butcher’s table, a pathetic creature kept around from pity.
Earth used to love flying.
They weren’t the best at it, yet they still liked it. floating off of the ground, feeling them flap across the sky, being above it all. being above everyone, above anything, taking in the ground from a birds-eye view. It was amazing, truly it was.
nothing great lasts forever, that was always true in his life. After all, Proto and Theia didn’t last, why would anything else?
it wasn’t quick, the loss of flight. it was inevitable, and that is what was so… frustrating. all of this was prepared for him, that ‘pain’ was inevitable, after this long he was accustomed to it- but he used to be fine. they used to be painless, he used to go unnoticed. the pain was slight at the beginning, it really was.
he didn’t wake up one day unable to fly, he honestly wish he did. he wanted to blame something, anything for it- all he could blame was himself.
he was ‘blessed’ with living organisms all those years ago. he didn’t know what to do with them- they lived in an ocean, they were nearly invisible- but they were there. he didn’t play much mind to those creatures, they didn’t do anything besides swim in his waters- and he didn’t mind. they were peaceful.
and they evolved- bigger, smarter. proper, so smart. he was proud of them, in all honesty. they were perfect in his eyes. they didn’t take much, and they gave back what they did. they were quite simple, yes, but they were his.
and then it came.
a rock.
a stupid, blasted rock.
because of that damned asteroid he couldn’t even properly see from an eye.
because of that rock, he lost his animals. anything that he cared for was ripped away. if he cared too much, if he let himself love and be loved- it would all fall apart. it always did. his other life came back. they didn’t.
he was glad that he got his life back, Venus and Mars weren’t as lucky- it was practically a miracle, it really was! yet… it didn’t feel the same.
maybe it was learning that life could be taken away so… quickly. maybe it was the fact that nobody but Luna ever mentioned it after the day. and it felt disgusting. he felt disgusting. he let this happen to himself, he allowed his life to be distorted and crashed.
it didn’t matter what he thought. he let it happen. it didn’t matter if he was a teenager, he could have- no, he should have done better to protect it. he could have changed this outcome. he could have saved himself. the only person to blame was his own.
when he first saw those evolved primates, he was… entertained, almost. hearing them attempt to speak- to create, to speculate- it was almost adorable. it was like watching a baby babble at you and try to communicate a point when they were still unknowing of what anything was, attempting to copy their only role-model, you.
he tried not to get attached. something like him shouldn’t get attached. yet… they were cute. the way they attempted to figure out what the sun was- hell, seeing them figure out that other things existed was adorable! the way they attempted to reproduce was… admittedly, disgusting, but nothing comes without its costs.
yet, no matter how much he didn’t want them to change, they evolved.
those primates had always been… territorial, to say the least. they cared for what was theirs, and it was admirable. like all other animals, they hunted for food and shared it with their family’s- their friends.
yet, they changed. he did too, in all honesty.
they learned. they grew. they killed and they saved for no reason other then the fact that they could. they claimed territory’s, they made houses, made families. they made war grounds, they made weapons, and they made military’s.
he used to find their fighting funny.
sometimes it would cause a death, but almost always it only ended up with a cut or two, and some bruised egos.
they evolved more and more. they spread out. gained opinions, creativity, knowledge, so many things!
yet… with that beautiful creations they had, they gained hatred. envy. they wanted what other people had, and they wouldn’t give their own. it used to be like watching two toddlers fight over a toy, not knowing how to share. they made opinions opposite of each others, making religions of people he didn’t know existed, arguing over some long dead men-
but it became larger.
it wasn’t just about a color, or a fictional character anymore- it used to be, but no. they decided to blow things way out of proportions. bringing people who didn’t know what was going on into it. yet, he was a spectator on his own life. watching things go down from a third person view, like how he used to do when flying.
they fought with sticks. and they moved to swords, before moving to guns. he didn’t mind their infighting- death was something that was a active thing in his surface. people died everyday, and people were born. that wasn’t the issue. the issue was that they started feeling weak. they started feeling like they needed to hurt more people. people who they don’t even know. and the methods they did it in were very… overzealous.
when the first bomb dropped- a test one of course -it was something he never felt before. it burned. sure, it was small- only a small bomb, and only one. but it felt ill for the day after. he thought that it was a test- or at most a bi-product of them trying to create propulsion, maybe even a intimidation tactic- he didn’t think that they make more- not intentionally. he assumed that they saw how… how dangerous they were, how disgusting it was to use that on so many others- so many people who were just… there. so many people that had family’s, wants, wills, whole lives to live out. he didn’t mind murder, sure, kill or be killed and all, yet it on such a large extent- it was painful.
it hurt to move for a day or two, but other then that he shrugged it off as a mistake. everyone makes them. kids make them- and in his eyes, those humans on his surface were children. they were still young, they didn’t know what they were doing!
but they finished the creation of those bombs.
they killed
they killed so many of their own.
it felt just like the asteroid again
it burned
he couldn’t breath. he could barely see. he felt sick. he wanted his mom. he felt so dizzy. why? why would they do this to themself?
he remembered that day faintly. he felt the first bomb drop, and then the second. he was in his room- he was going to go get something for Luna- a hairbrush maybe..? Luna was in his room, waiting on his bed- he remembered Luna asking if everything was okay, since he was slightly shaking. he felt sick. he remembered hitting the floor, before it went blank.
he felt disgusting afterwards for weeks on end. if it wasn’t for the pain, it was for Luna. they wouldn’t mention it, but he knew that Luna was worried- extremely so. even if he told Luna everything was fine, they wouldn’t believe him. Luna barely let him out of their sight half of the time.
The bombs went on for over a few weeks. he’s pretty sure it was years for the humans in his surface. he didn’t get accustomed to it, but after a bit of time, it got a bit easier to keep up a good face near Luna and the others. Luna didn’t tell anyone besides Jupiter- thank Sol for that, yet Jupiters concern was… off. he could tell Jupiter did care, and that Jupiter was worried- but he knew that Jupiter hated not knowing how to fix it. Jupiter did want him to feel better, but he didn’t want to tell him the obvious- that it was his humans fault. whether it was from he didn’t know if Earth knew about it himself, or if it was for Luna’s sake.
the pain got better after the bombs, but it was still practically impossible to deal with half of the time. it was tiring. so tiring.
his legs hurt so badly, they burned and ached- yet flying was no better. he could still fly slightly, his joints were slightly stiff and most of the time his wings weren’t preened properly, but those short periods of actual flying were the best things he got most days. he floated above the ground much less then usual, but he still indulged in it. removing it from his schedule would do more harm than good- he wasn’t stupid, he knew what happened if avians didn’t fly for long periods of time- he remembered Jupiter explaining it to him when he first got in the system- but still.
after the war ended properly, when the peace treaty was finally signed- he didn’t feel much better. he was glad it was over in the least, at least it wouldn’t get worse. he could learn how to cope with it, he could learn how to handle the pain. he thought he could. yet, it only seemed to get worse, and he didn’t know why. it wasnt the end of the wars, apparently.
He knew it was coming. from the basis of what the population was speaking of, it was obvious. didn’t stop the fact it hurt. he didn’t know why his species did it, but they did. and it hurt so badly. didn’t mean it would stop their blood lust. so many of these things happened. it was practically normal for the pain after the Korean War.
the one he hated the most was the Veitnam war. 1,353,000 deaths. 7.5 million tons of bombs. he remembered throwing up so much that it was practically just stomach acid. he’s pretty sure that he might have thrown up blood from how irritated his throat had gotten- hell, he still on the occasion coughed blood from the incident. he didn’t know how to grieve the millions that had died. he didn’t even know if he should have grieved them. this was the cost of life, after all. not everyone lives. maybe the dinosaurs were a test, teaching him not to get attached.
it had been over a few years since the Vietnam war happened- well, maybe around 30-50 for his humans, but it was a few years for him. they didn’t learn their lessons. they didn’t read their history’s. they destroyed their predecessors graves in place for new ones. dried blood was never cleaned, only given new splatters of the gore.
at this point? he just was a spectator on the wars once more. at the most, if the bombs we’re going off- he just wasn’t… there, mentally. a coping mechanism some would call, but in his mind, it was just the easiest way to deal with all of this! admittedly, the pain was deserved. he let them do this. he was a vessel, nothing more, nothing less.
it was only for when the pain was too much- it really was! it was just a simple, easy coping mechanism, just how to make it so he was more… conscious when he was needed!
sometimes the pain was too much just to ignore. he just needed something he could control- anything, just something to make it stop. a few pulled feathers didn’t hurt anyone!!!
if his humans could control what they did to each other, he could control what he did to himself! so what if the mechanisms were… unconventional. they worked, didn’t they? he was just doing this temporarily- just so he could focus on his friends, on his family! a few pulled feathers weren’t of anyone’s worries. maybe he had to hide it from Jupiter so that he wouldn’t get worried, so what? it made it so he was productive. He was useful again, right?
all he needed was to keep his importance. what else was his life for? what else was the purpose of the flora and fauna he produced in these years if not to show them off? the others liked him better like this.
yet it wasn’t enough.
it’s never enough for them, right?
he knew that he shouldn’t have gotten attached. he knew it!!!
really, if he wasn't the one IN this situation, he'd find it funny how quickly things have always gone downhill for him- he was practically a self fulfilling prophecy at this point.
if it wasn’t for the fact he was an asshole, he could have done better. he could have been better if he wasn’t so… busy trying to deal with the pain he has caused upon himself. maybe if he didn’t get attached to them, it would have been better.
after all, without the fauna and flora that he had been praised for, that he grew with his own bear hands, that others loved- what was he? another rock? just another rock floating in space, wasn't he.
he knew that there was a time without it, without the grass and waters, before that first living organism, without the praise.
yet… those memory's were foggy, incredibly so, yet he knew that he didn't seem happy. at least, he didn't look like it. people didn't like him back then- people didn't even know him back then.
he wasn’t happy back then, right?
but he still wasn't now, was he?
they couldn't say if he was happier now or then, hell, he’s not sure if he knows how he is feeling most of the time.
sometimes, sometimes he was happy, he knew that. sometimes, he felt actually delighted, and felt actual feelings. but most days? all he felt was… empty. a void adjacent feeling, something that was just so… cold. sure, yes, sometimes he felt something under that 'emptyness', but it was faint. and it only got worse, and worse, and… worse as the years went by.
you can pretend to feel something your whole life, yet in the end it is all pretend for their sake. but, you can get used to it after a while, right? keeping up the act for the sake of keeping friends and family happy, for keeping them out of the know how that you so contain! ignorance is bliss, after all.
it is fine.
…
it was fine.
after some point, how much of these issues are his fault those bombs were made from his own materials, death was just his life returning into one. was he the catalyst to all of this shit? was he the reason? the cause? was it his fault, or their's? was it his fault for being a bad friend? a ‘bad’ person?
…
who was he kidding.
he isn't a person, not anymore. he didn't deserve a title like that.
a person was someone with morals, with friends- and he wasn't. he was a cruel asshole sometimes, yes, but he wasn't a person. and you know what? he didn't care. he shouldn't care. he doesn't deserve to care. a thing like him didn't need to feel.
maybe he deserved this..? maybe their abandonment was a punishment for what type of thing he is. maybe, maybe if he was a good person, maybe if he had tried harder for them, then maybe. maybe he would have deserved to feel bad. maybe he would have been allowed to feel bad. a few days would go by, and they would get over it. he'd get over it.
in the end, it didn't really matter. nobody would notice, would they? at most Luna was concerned if they got a basic understanding of what was going on, but that was it. he was glad for that, at least. he didn’t deserve to burden them with more problems.
and besides… they didn't notice the last time, or the time before that. and now, they wouldn't notice at all. it was fine. he was fine. everything,,, was fine. it had been fine for these three weeks. everyone practically ignoring him was fine. barely being able to breath when you look into a mirror is fine. not recognizing your own reflection was fine.
it was hard to breath. he took a breath in and out, in and out, yet he couldn’t seem to calm himself down. how pathetic.
he ran a hand through his hair, taking a shaky breath in… and a shaky breath out. by the stars, he looked pathetic. his hair was messy, his braid half un-done, stray hair's slightly sticking to his face from the sweat, the curlyness of his hair that he has tried so hard to straighten- still there. it was always still there. can't get rid of something that simple, can he.
his wings behind him weakly lay on his back, almost weighing him down at this point. it was sickening.
he raises a shaky hand to his face, gently holding onto the base his left ear-wing, it slightly flicking at the feeling as if it had its own mind. …it had reminded him of kittens ear with how it flicked against the lightest touch. he wanted to rip it out. a stupid, stupid thing. it had no purpose besides to look ‘pretty’, didn’t it? He wanted to tear it off- but he didn't. it would be stupid, so stupid. he took another shaky breath in… and out, lowering his hand back down to the edge of the sink to go back to stabilize himself.
he turns on the water fully, just… staring. the water running was loud, almost abrasive against his ears. but it was nice. it was loud enough he could only think about the water, about how it was shining, it was nice, even with how cold it felt. it was pure, beautiful. he wanted to be like it. that pure, shining thing, something that would wash away that… disgusting, pathetic mess of a monster. he removed the gloves on his hands, before gently washing his hands off. they weren't dirty, but it was still nice to have the cold feeling on his hands.
he raised his hands to his face, still slightly shaking. the water was cold - so cold, but it was fine. it was calm. he shakily sighed, slicking his hair back. his wings were itchy. his hair was wrong. his clothes felt like they were lying on him wrong. his gloves felt wrong. everything felt…wrong.
he felt like he was being choked from the inside. he felt like he was dying, and yet he was never given the right to die. he deserved to suffer. but he wanted a peaceful stop to this. he was in pain- so much pain. he just wanted a calm moment. he just wanted to see his mom. he wanted to be happy again. he wanted to be able to wake up without pain, he wanted to just be happy. he just… he just wanted it to be over. this wouldn’t end unless he died. he wouldn’t be free until he died. he just wanted it to end.
he just wanted to see her again. he was so tired. so goddamn tired…