wasted and alone

He limped into the familiar territory as silently as he could. What kind of soldier for the Fallen God was he? A miserable one. The castle walls loomed high overhead, and he felt unworthy to seat himself within their embrace. Instead, he lurked at the outskirts, in their shadow. Night was about to fall, and the sun was setting slowly on the horizon. The sky above was awash with myriad hues of gold, crimson, and violet. He would ordinarily love to sit and watch them shift and change, but he felt too pathetic to be worthy of the display. Instead, he leaned against the cool stone of the castle walls. It soothed the growing aches from his fight with the coyotes.

Tears burned the backs of his eyes. No, no. He was not going to cry, not today. Not ever. Strong godlings didn't cry, not for anything. Certainly not for a lost fight. Instead, he stared at his paws. Blood was starting to dry in his fur, mingling with the salt of the sea that had been left behind as the water evaporated. He looked like a disaster, and he felt even worse. He'd clean himself up in a little while, but right now he simply didn't have the energy to manage it. He felt winded from it all, and his throat was closing up around the tears that threatened to break.

Sniffling, the phoenix not to think about what Malleus might say if he saw him. What if his parents could see him now? They'd be disappointed, for sure.