"Whatever! Getting lectured by a figment of my imagination, imagine that!" Indifference, pure indifference in his attitude towards the cruel and raw authentic rebuttal, provided by Nobody…
After the facade of Aevens's worldview was dismantled so thoroughly, he headed towards home. Wherever that was… The idea of a home, a place where one resides permanently, especially as a member of a family or household. In the Dust Flats, the exact definition could be attached to many, but for Aeven, no… It had another definition, a fancier definition, perhaps a different definition attached to another word… A word Aeven refused to concede as the correct definition…
On his way home, Aeven saw several posters about the rotting outside world that seeps into the Vibrant Rise and Dust Flats at times. Multiple Times a day in fact.
"Ah, home sweet home." In front of Aeven, the cold and unavoidable reality of what home really was befell right before his eyes. "Home…" Aevens' mask of indifference cracked for a second.
"This isn't home, you're homeless, Aeven." Nobody's voice pierces the mask of indifference like a bullet piercing the sound barrier, cracking it for a split second, enough to get Aeven to frown slightly, or was that just disdain for his other self?
"You and your jokes, Nobody, you hear that, you are nobody, you are simply in my head, that's all there is to this charade you put on. You are nothing, you hear me nothing!" Aeven's dark eyes darted glistening with the moonlight reflecting off them at, where his other self was, yet he was looking at nobody in reality…
"And what are you? You are nothing but someone who loves to thrive in self-pity, pity-avoiding, and deflecting others in the process, and yet you seek friends out. I would rather have a Sentient Gate appear right now and face the creatures that dwell in the depths of that treacherous realm than live a life of such cowardice as yours, you coward."
Nobody said disregard for Aeven's emotions as always.
"What if I am a coward— there's nothing wrong with that… Heroes with courage and faith, they all die and make a name for themselves. Guess what, I don't want to be known, nor do I have big aspirations for myself in this hellhole of a world. All I want is a quiet, peaceful life and to keep the ones I hold close to me safe whenever that comes. You know what will be attached to me when I play my part as a coward in this cursed world. I won't get the vindication of having my name spoken eons after my death and all the valuables that come with that, but… I will live a life that I will be content with, a longer life, in fact! I am the one who will be standing at the end of the day, watching them fall.
With that, Aeven entered home, " Ah, my favorite chair!" The room was small, cold, and the smell of damp concrete was prevalent in the air. Besides Aevens' favorite chair lay a table which was kept together by nothing more than strings and tape he'd found rummaging through the garbage… On top of that table were the findings of his ventures into what many would call trash. To Aeven, the expression of another man's trash is another man's treasure is one of the many ideals that Aeven lived up to.
"Get a bed, perhaps?" Nobody pointed out. Aevens' bed was nothing more than a blanket on the cold, damp concrete. Paired with a pillow, the size of his head.
"Get a bed? Now, why would I do that? My bed is meant to be portable…" said Aeven.
"Why? Does it have to do with you being homeless?"
"No… I am not homeless, I am simply portable! Yeah, that!" Aevens' hand rested in front of his chest with his pointer finger raised as he made a valid point.
Damp concrete, a blanket on the floor [paired with a pillow the size of his head], a table, and a chair were all that Aveven and his figment of imagination had to be there name. The temporary residence they were currently located in was one of many they had squatted and claimed. It wouldn't be long before they had to move again, to a new residence… Aeven's life had been like that for the most part. Moving scavenging from one location to another, from dumpster to dumpster.
In the slums of the Dust Flats, where nobody is present besides the occasional rascals, much like Aeven himself. Coming across homeless mundane humans is common. Stumbling across non-mundane humans known as Soulbearers is uncommon. Soulbearers are combatants who fight against the vile creatures that emerge from Sentient Gates, which are a direct product of emotions. Soulbearers have Soul Cores, which contain Soul Essence, which can be used in many ways.
Aeven is a homeless mundane orphan…
"Friendships, Friendships, Friendships, mhmm," Aevens faced contorted with mixed feelings, longing? Wanting? A mixture of both or perhaps,something else. 'If I think about it long enough, I'll manifest it into reality!' he thought, detached and unconcerned from his state of homelessness…
"Not how it works." Nobody replied with impassivity.
Aeven looked at Nobody, rolling his eyes away from him. His eyes fell heavy, drifty, and comfortable. Aeven had fallen asleep. As his eyes slowly closed, vivid memories of two adults surfaced, a young man and a young woman, saying," Will we be able to protect him from this cruel, hopeless world? Did we make the right choice of conceiving a child, knowing the life he would live? " Only time could tell…
A tear rolled down Aevens' cheeks, oblivious to the fact that he had shed a tear for a couple he hadn't known for long…
Some time later..
"Uh, what is that?" Aevens' eyes half opened, his vision was blurred, his mind a mist of fog, his thoughts drowsy, his words sloppy. There was a smell in the air that was sweet and fresh; it was not the cold and damp concrete he's come to be accustomed to. " That smell– it's so familiar yet so unfamiliar," Aeven sniffed the air.
His eyes fluttered. And saw a pair of eyes wide and unblinking staring back at him from inches away.
He didn't move. He didn't breathe. The silence was absolute.
Then, a voice, so close he felt the breath on his skin, " You're in my spot."