Andlátkyn; Vandr Sanses unin Alagaësia

To Realize One's Chains

((This was fun to write.))

The nonexistent sky felt unnaturally empty. He couldn't remember it ever feeling so.. blank. The formerly golden void had shifted into a bright, hostile red, yellow swirling around faintly as the realm raged. Even brighter threads lashed about near the bottom of the endless void, some latching to hanging, colored stars before peeling away.

He stared at the scene indifferently, eyelights blank. He had grown tired of feeling when he only experienced fear and frustration. Even avoiding those colors left him empty. Joy felt hollow, curiosity dull. Even taking a middling emotion left him disgusted with himself. So.. he gave up.
There was nothing but emptiness left behind.

It vaguely occurred to him that he had been watching the stars vanish for a long time.
He hadn't eaten. Hadn't moved. Hadn't done anything. He just.. ached.
He could feel his creations dying, and there was nothing he could do about it.

If only to look away from the oncoming demise, he looked down at the yellowing grass and the long paintbrush sitting atop it. He clenched his hand to work some feeling back into it, noting that the plants it had previously been settled on were like straw. He had sat for so long they had died from the lack of light.

He ran his hand over the ancient wood. It had become brittle without his power flowing through it. If he could feel, he would have feared it would crumble to dust, dead like a monster. As it was, he was empty.

Gently holding it closer to himself, he tried to recall how it comforted him. Unfortunately, he felt nothing. Ink curled one leg under him and stared out at his dying Doodlesphere. Everyone he knew and somewhat cared for was gone. The enemies giving him purpose were gone. Trillions of mortals were crying out for help, dying in millions, torn apart into nothing by the Void as thousands remained to demand why, expecting answers when he had none. It was.. lonely.

"...The Multiverse is dying, Broomie." His dry, unused voice cracked out, gazing back down at the writhing strands, hearing the distant thunder of the strange being raging. He pondered if it was some spirit of the Doodlesphere itself, yearning in loss as it watched everything come apart around them.
"..What do I do?"

As always, the paintbrush was mute. It was only ever a tool he'd grown attached to. Ink slowly turned to blankly regard the pile of vials he'd abandoned. They gleamed with color, soothing and familiar amidst the harsh surroundings that burned crimson like an apocalypse. They were comfortably nestled against the pale blue of his jacket. Ink just stared at them, sluggishly thinking.

He.. wanted to feel when everything fell. Maybe not now- that would only accomplish more of the same- but he knew that eventually everything would vanish. Maybe that would leave him alone in an empty void. Maybe he would go with it all. Either way when the time came, he wanted to feel. One. Last. Time.
Then he might throw them away forever. He had failed as a Creator and protector, after all. It seemed only fair.

How ironic.
He was thinking of fairness in a state like this. Why did he care? He had never cared before when becoming like this. He was a Soulless creature without empathy. Not even a Flowey could compare, comprehend. They almost always had echoes of a Soul, memories of empathy- twisted as they usually were.
Could anything be more disconnected from life than a god that lacked emotion and compassion?

Ink pondered if his was a cruel fate. No way to feel love, feel empathy, compassion, feel hate, feel jealousy, feel anything at all. He only had pitiful shadows of emotion, distilled and weak. Did his existence even have a point without Destruction he could combat?
This wasn't even destruction anymore.
It was just the end.

Maybe that's what it was. The Neverending Story that was his Multiverse did have an end and this was it. It called to mind a haunting phrase.
This was how it all ends.
Not with a bang, but with a whimper.