Author Notes:
This is just a little drabble I wrote for one of my O.C.s. Currently it's a one-shot, but I might consider doing more for this story or more little one-shots for related O.C.s. I don't own Invader Zim, but I do own all the species mentioned, except for the Irkens, of course. I also own my O.C.
Change. People say it's tough. People say it's hard. People say you get used to it. People say a lot of things. And frankly, most of the things they say are wrong.
A lot of things have changed. Even now, as I watch the stars go by so fast that it's impossible to tell one from another, things are changing. I used to be able to see the stars, see them clearly. Now no one can see them clearly. Irk is dieing. It's choking, struggling, rebelling, and losing. No one cares. No one even knows.
When you spend you're whole life somewhere or spend you're whole life never anywhere, you don't notice much. But I only go to Irk once a cycle. And I see the changes. It hurts, somewhere, to see my old home dieing. But, it's more than that. It's dieing, and no one does anything. They just go on with their cruel petty lives, eating snacks, conquering, buying, and leading a lie.
Me? I can't do anything. I gave up a long time ago. There's nothing more I can do. I'm slowing down and the universe is speeding up. Irk isn't my home anymore. Technically, Irk was never my home. Not this Irk anyway. Not the Irk that's covered in metal, whose core has been hollowed out. Not this Irk covered in pollution. Not this Irk that has no flora or fauna.
My home has no name. It was a beautiful place, full of plants and wondrous animals. The foforuxs that used to soar among the towering trees? Gone. The mighty Dracon that I used to hear sung of everyday? Gone. The friendly little Mirocs, that came in every color known? Gone, except for the handful we kept. The Archai? Still here, but hidden, dieing slowly.
I make this journey alone, because I have to. It's not that I'm hiding something, perhaps some weakness in this nostalgia and sentimentality. The others know how I am. I'm not alone to hide my tears; I'm out of tears to shed. I go alone because I am searching for one.
Each cycle I return to Irk briefly. It takes most of a cycle to reach Irk and return, but I only linger for a few moments. Each cycle I leave nothing of myself but a single gift. Behind me I leave a solitary flower. A solitary flower of such beauty that each time I return to Irk I must struggle to leave such a wonder on a planet so ruined. It glows with a light as pure and golden as a sun made out of such a metal itself.
It's not much, but it could save Irk. All I want, all Irk needs, is for one person, just one person, to pause. If that one person were to take a moment and pick up that flower, Irk could be saved. If they kept the flower, kept it safe, kept it alive, than Irk would be saved.
It is a miraculous sort of flower. Anyone who smells it scent, breathes it deep and focuses on the scent, will be able to see. Not see clearer, not see better, but truly see. The truth will be revealed to them, as their eyes turn as golden as the flower itself. They will see what is happening, and they can save Irk.
I? This is all I can do. I have gone to Irk, gone to the cities before. No one ever had time for me, a crazy little thing wanting them to sniff a flower. But perhaps, just maybe, I can help save Irk. Even if I am only the deliverer of hope, I must do it.
Irk used to be my home. I hate the "Irkens", just as they hate me. But I do not hate Irk. I cannot hate Irk. Irk never did me wrong, never shunned me, hunted me, hurt me. Irk did nothing to deserve what happened to it. Irk did nothing to warrant the "Irkens" living on it, destroying it.
But as much as I hate them, I want Irk to live. Otherwise, they would move on to another planet and repeat their actions. They are not like me. They won't settle for being "Daklozen". That's who I am: Daklozen D'or, generation zero ex-alpha of the Irken Archai.