Theme: Pain/Lack of
Characters: many
Rating: T
Nobody (pun excluded) knew the true extent of the Paladin's powers. The situation never arose for him to fully unleash his abilities, and the dare I say meager spars with fellow Nobodies never turned serious enough for deathly tactics. The paladin had few times in his nonexistence experienced pain, and while the others admired and possibly even coveted such strength, he himself longed for that weakness they so despised.
To feel pain, physical strain, was as close to emotions as they could achieve. To feel nothing, especially as a Nobody, was a hard hit to the dream of regaining a heart. Faux rage in battle was what nearly everybody thirsted for, to hurt and know that in another time you would have become so overcome with emotion that an incredible strength rose from you, sending victory and the exuberance that came with it.
But those called elite, those that either emerged unscathed from every victory or disregarded the battle entirely, they were the ones hurting most. Enmeshed in the self and distanced from the rest of existence, they suffered solemnity not known to many beings. An entire lifetime of not feeling anything, even the sting of a blade or burn of magic, made a life so hollow they could hardly bear it.
All anyone had was memories, and some not even those. They all pushed to live like the past, all worked for a life reverted past this existence of black and white and empty souls. Fighting, continuously, to die, and be reborn again.