He was never the one to dream. He never really had anything to dream about. He usually did his usual routine: go into his cavern, find flat land, and sleep. That's what he always did and thought it was unnecessary for anything else. Mainly because he had nothing to wish for, he never had any dreams as he did so. He didn't have any dreams when he was awake, either. As he went along in life, he didn't want any dreams because he knew deep inside that they would hurt him. Yet, his body never listened to his thoughts, did they?
He was always the one to dream. His imagination whirled to life when he thought of his future or anything similar. All of his grief was gone whenever he went to bed as he thought of the day to come when he would finally soar upon the sky and look down on the creatures below, but saw them as his equal flyers. He always went into his bedroom, laid in his bed, and covered himself up in blankets as he rested his chocolate head. Nigh time was never his only time for dreaming, as he dreamed day and night because he knew the joy it would bring for him to dream of the wonderful days ahead.
He was never the one for caring. His stone cold eyes usually stared into the distance at the thought of what others were going through, but he felt nothing of it. He never cried at the thought of someone in pain, nor did he feel envy when he thought of someone sleeping in a warm bed unlike himself. He didn't care. He loved where he was. He loved his cave, because he got peace and quiet and had not one care in the world. He loved his cave because he had somewhere to hide his food, to protect himself. He doubted even the goddess of light even knew where he was, and he liked it. No matter how much he never cared, his red eyes held that burning sorrow he had within his heart that he never let out, so he never cared.
He was always the one to care. No matter the situation, he would care about those in pain, and those who never deserved the love he gave. He would see people from up above in the clouds, watching as they were stuck in a war of mankind. Some lying on the ground in bloody pain and others standing over them trying to heal their wounds. He cared enough to sneak some healing potions from his goddess and drop them from the heavens onto the poor souls that were in pain. It was enough for them to stand and start a new life, and he cared. He cared about those as he thought of their sorrows and he cared for those who would hurt themselves because they didn't know how to care. His heart went out to them, and his blue eyes held their worries with hope.
He was never the one to wish for love. It didn't matter if it was love from his soulmate or his love from the family he never had nor wished to have. He didn't hold love for himself, neither. To him, love was a petty excuse to mate with someone for the rest of their lives and to breed into another generation, so one would not be the cause for extinction; and that love was just a test of tolerance of the opposite or same sex so they could breed without being annoyed. To him, what he saw on the mortal world said enough, as divorce was major and it was evidence to his point. He didn't need love from mate nor family, no matter how his fresh scars bled from the love he wished he had.
He was always the one to love. He loved his friends, his motherly goddess, even his 'twin' he hasn't heard from in forever, because they were all family to him. He thought of love and he thought of the joys it would bring to him and his future lover in the future. He didn't care if his unknown lover was male or female, he'd love them anyways. He'd hold them in his arms, and he's wrap his silken white wings around their figure. He always wanted love and he always will. It didn't matter if he never found a soulmate or not, because he'd have his family to back him up and he knew they always will. He smiled everyday because he knew he was loved, and he knew that he always will be; and no matter who, he loves them too.
He was never the one to wish for life. At first, he'd do his best to stay alive. He would escape his twin and his goddess long enough to find somewhere to live, only because he feared death. Yet, now, it doesn't matter to him. If he died tonight nobody would know or care. It was no point, for he was only the ant in a worldwide anthill and if he was squashed, another one of him would be hatched and the original would be forgotten. Life was just a rock to hide him from truth. Besides, who needs life as they have no love, no family, and no dreams to look forward to? At least, those were his thoughts as he plunged off of the side of his cliff where he once slept that last hour. His blackened wings red with the liquid life he once had as droplets dripped from his wrist, to his tunic, from his wings, and into the deep blue sky. As he was pale as snow from major blood loss, and before he fell onto the sharp rocks below, he suddenly wished.
He wished to dream...
...he wished to care...
...he wished to love.
He was never the one to wish for death. No matter who it was, if they were good or bad. He never wanted it. His blue tears lightened his blue eyes at the news of it as it happened so soon and so fast. He wept as he hated the thought of dying. He looked down at the humans at war sometimes and wondered why they do it. They had so much to live for, why give it up on a religion that did nothing to please the gods? The fighting didn't make them love the humans, it made them weary of them and grew to grieve and dislike what they did to their lands. Death was unwanted. Only Hades loved death, but now, he wished Hades to be forgiving.
He wished that he would have dreamed...
he wished that he had cared for his own life...
He wished he knew how much he was loved...
For now he looked at his pale twin as the nature goddess brought him into his goddess's palace, and thought to himself
"Why would you do this? Even in the cycle of an hour, you never thought once of the ones who loved you?"