Lore/Story Homesick

Foreword: I whipped this up in about a half hour. I don't know why I wrote this, and quality not guaranteed. Figured I'd share it anyway though. As far as I'm aware, it doesn't mean anything.

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Black really was never his colour.

It’d been so long, he’d lost track of the years at least a hundred ago. So long since it’d all happened. So long since she’d made him keep it. So long since everything went to hell. So long since so much. Both the years, and the details, were just so hazy. He tried his best to remember the important things, though.

It didn’t look good on him, or even at all. His scarf, his shirt, his fur, the stark black stripes against the light blues and pastel greens.

He didn’t know what this place was. It was schizophrenic, even more so than his second home. Walking for half a day back then, sometimes even less than that, could take him from one town to another. Could cross mountains and rivers, walk from hell to winter in almost no time at all. Not like there was any distinction between them, anymore, but...details, details. Here, a half-day’s walk felt like a trip around the world. Blazing volcanic caves, sticky wet marshes, freezing snowy forests, the edge of an ocean, a blazing sandpit of a desert...all of them were alike, none safe. Walking kept him safe. Staying meant death. He had to keep walking.

The plain black one didn’t do him any favors either. It always stood out from the rest of him.

Staying always meant death...everywhere he went, it seemed. The first one...it wasn’t his fault, but after so long it felt like it. The woman on the pyre sent him away, to another world, a better one. There’s no way it could be anything more than her...would an eternal curse survive the cessation? Maybe. He wondered if she could see him. See anything. Was she lost? What happened to the destroyer? Probably destroyed himself in the end, since she said that whole world was lost... Could he have done anything? There were heroes there. Just like the next...they failed to stop the destroyer, but what if they’d had one more?

Everyone else looked okay, or even so nice in black. He just looked like he was trying too hard to be cool.

The second one...oh, how he’d tried to save it. He thought it was safe, then that place by the trading town turned to hell. And just across the ocean, things had started dying too. Was it because he came from another world? There was no other explanation, it had to be his fault. Theories abounded, but it all went bad after he got there... He had to try and fix his mistake. The sorceress...it’d been too long, he couldn’t even remember her name. She was trying to fix it too. She didn’t know why it was happening. She refused to believe it was his fault, she just couldn’t accept the truth. How could something so cute cause so much trouble, she said. They tried to work together anyway, to stop the spread of it all. So much time passed, so much effort put in. More and more worlds visited, to try and find a way to stop it. None of them had a solution.

Almost everyone pointed out how silly he looked like that, at home and everywhere else.

It kept getting worse and worse. Damage control was impossible; it kept spreading. The other land went all to hell too quick. Everything red and enflamed, there was nothing to salvage. No one to save. He remembered, he broke down there... Seeing another one fall, it was such a shock. She had to put a spell on him to make him better. Even then, it was a stopgap measure. It kept wearing off. In fact, surely her last one will be wearing off soon...no, can’t think about that. Keep moving. Keep remembering.

Along with that gash in his ear, people thought he looked ridiculous. “Edgy” seemed like it was the favored word.

Even with her power, and all the tries, all the knowledge from all the other worlds, he just couldn’t stop it. They couldn’t stop any of it. It kept getting closer. Everyone started changing, or dying, or both. Always dying eventually, just like the rest of the world. Less places were safe to live in, always less and less. Even though she was used to some of it, she couldn’t survive long where everything else was dying. No one could. She was sure her family had already died. He hoped there was a safe heaven for them. False reassurance, it’s all part of the same world. It’d have fallen in time. And then, she took from him, his methods, and gave him a little charm, slipping it right into his body so he could never lose it. And she said to go. That anywhere else could be better for him, and that she would keep trying, and that if she ever made a breakthrough, that charm would let him know, and she would bring him back to someplace like a home. And that was the last he’d heard of her.

He had to remember her. She couldn’t have made it, with how long it’d been she would have to be dead. He never told those two he’d promise to remember them. The girl on the pyre, and the girl with the black skin. A cut through his ear, and black on his clothes. No one else knew what they meant. Even he was starting to lose track of the circumstances. But he swore he’d never forget them, even if it was only to himself.

He thought it was funny how in both his homes, black was the colour of mourning.

 

This is rather well-written, but it does seem like more than just a random story. It seems based in the lore of Wynn.

I'm probably just inferring too much. Then again, maybe you took inspiration to right a fan-fiction-esque tale. Or perhaps this is itself a bit of the lore, disguised as a simple story.

...Naaah

 

E D G Y‌‌‌‌

 

There's such a unique charm to this story, and yet I can't figure out why. How odd...

 

It is, but like 90% of this is headcanons. As far as I'm aware none of this matches up to anything important. So,

Yeah kinda.

 

Nice story.

 

misreads homesick for homestuck

 

I absolutely loved this! I wish I was as good at writing as you are lol


Please write some more if you can

 

I don't know about anyone else, but this one detail makes me think that the character is a Wybel. That's just me though.