A/N: TW: Major character death, Abandonment, Violence. This will most likely be a series of drabbles, depicting Eridan's suffering in a doomed timeline where everyone forgot about him- consequentially leaving him on LOWAA for the rest of his days.
He didn't need friends…
The screech of another angel, another extinguished life, pierced his ears- the resulting cry of outrage from the others a near constant melody. As long as he had power... he didn't have a need for any sort of companionship, not in any shape or form. He didn't need anyone or anything, he just needed to be strong. Maybe then people would give him the respect that he deserved, the respect that was his birthright. A loud screech- one that he hadn't caused- caught his attention. He could only pale in disgust and revulsion as one angel ripped off the wings of another. It smirked at him, it smirked- and the last thing that Eridan knew was the pain of having his back raked open by claws.
When he regained cognizance, he realized that he was alive, much to his confusion. Why hasn't he died? Why hadn't they killed him? It wasn't as if anybody would miss him, after all. That thought surprised him. What did he mean no one would care? Of course they would. His friends would miss him. Ah, but were those traitors really his friends, a snide voice whispered to him disdainfully. They had abandoned him, they had left him here to die. Were they really his friends...? Hadn't he left of his own accord, though? Surely it was not their fault... But would real friends even let him leave? They didn't even care enough to make him stay- how pathetic! The voice inside his head recorded with that last, scathing remark- leaving him alone with his thoughts.
He hated to admit it, but the voice had brought up a good point. Did his friends really care about him, since they let him go back to his planet (which was teeming with violent consorts)? He gave a pained yelp, and the sound of ripping cloth filled the deathly silent chapel. He was horrified to find two wings sprouting out of his back when he glanced behind him, both white in coloring and no longer than his forearm. He watched on in morbid fascination as the pure white color darkened slightly, only to lift again once his negative thoughts left him.
He had lost track of the time that he spent in LOWAA. It could have been minutes, hours, days, sweeps... but he wouldn't have noticed. His wings had grown larger, indicating that a significant amount of time had passed. A time spent with no contact. With no help. With no friends. An angel swept into the chapel that was his residence, and he could only reach out jerkily, as if he was a marionette being puppeteered. "Please, stay wwith me, I don't want to be alone anymore! I can't stand this silence, it's deafenin, it's stiflin an constrictin an everythin in betwween... Please, don't leavve me like evveryone else did!" He begged, his pride washed down the drain as he pleaded for it to stay with him.
He had been attention-starved when the other angels came for him; he had become borderline insane due to the suffocating silence of the planet. The chapels were large and desolate, though no sound could be heard. No whistle of the wind. Only the faint murmuring of voices, ones that made him think he was going even crazier. The sound of his own breathing was loud in his ears, heavy, overpowering. He would swear that he could hear the sound of his own bloodpusher sometimes, the unsettlingly loud beating echoing in his ears. It didn't help that he didn't walk, either. He glided an inch or two above the ground when he felt the need to move. It had come to him naturally, and he found that it was easier than walking. So when the angels came for him, their wings beating a loud, imposing rhythm, he could only cover his ears, wincing at the influx of noise that he had grown unaccustomed to.
His consorts swarmed him, caressing, petting, soothing him. The angels told him that they loved him, the angels had told him that he was beautiful, that he was wanted and needed by them. He had never been told something like that before, but he liked the way that the compliments made him feel. He felt content, appreciated...
The angels liked to hunt. It was part of the reason why it was so silent in LOWAA, since they snuffed out any and all life besides their kin. He was a part of them now, so they wouldn't hurt him. His wings that they had given him earlier were a testament to the fact. Whenever the screech of an imp sliced through the silence of the planet, it would almost be immediately followed by another shriek, accompanied by the telltale clinks of grist hitting marble floors. There was white noise on the planet, which was the murmuring of the angels. They spoke in odd accents, hissing and hoarse. They spoke to him and he listened placidly, responding listlessly in return. "You're ssso beautiful, my pretty..." One whispered to him, running a hand down his tattered gray wings- which almost resembled cracked stone.
He could do little more than nod in agreement, tears cascading down his face as he sobbed audibly, his weeping echoing around the planet eerily. "I knoww." He didn't want this. The angel pressed its mangled mouth to his, and he could only cry harder- because he needed this, though he hated having to. He didn't want this. "I knoww." He choked out. He didn't want…
A few days later, the boy looked almost haunted as he sat inside his church, huddled up in a corner with his dull gray wings obscuring him from view partially. He was hiding from the angels, since he didn't want to see them at the moment. They had a falling out of sorts, since a little bit of his original hatefuluglydetestable personality had shone through when he hissed at a few of them for trying to touch him, and a clawed hand to the face had been what he got in retribution.
He silently thanked the deities for silent tears, for inaudible sobs…
They said that they had loved him. They said that they had loved him. So why was he hurting? Why didn't it seem like they did any more? Why didn't they act like how they claimed they felt? He didn't know anymore. He knew nothing but the bitter betrayal, and the painful isolation.
When the chapel doors swung open again, and an angel swept in, the boy hissed and snarled as he shrunk further into the corner with a desperate, feral growl. "Pretty…" He tensed at the sound of the angels' "affectionate" nickname for him. He backed away and growled once more, clawing at the arms that forcefully pried his wings open, fear clearly visible in his violet eyes. No… no no no no nononononononono-
The angel papped him on the cheek, a soothing yet rattling "ssshoosh" coming from its mouth. "Pretty…" He relaxed instantly, so starved for affection and acceptance at that point that he'd take it from just about anyone, anything. "You're sssafe with me…" A tired sigh came from bruised lips, tired wings relaxing, and a choked sound as sharp claws wrapped around a gilled neck. Eyes closed in solemn defeat, and weary arms dropped to his side limply. A final rattling breath escaped his lips, and he could but utter the one word that he had denied the exit of for all this time- his stubborn, stubborn pride keeping it locking within him. "Help..." Silence...
And thus, Eridan Ampora was no more. Loved by none, forgotten by all.
No one came for you in the end, young prince….
So tell me…
Where is your knight now?
