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pathological-runaway · 2 months ago

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Daleth is afraid of being forgotten. Which, put this way, doesn’t really make any sense: they’re the most experienced and wise of all Elders, they’re the one others look up to, their advice is welcome and sought. There’s no reason for them to fear being forgotten, not really, not with the impact they have on the lives of so many people. Still, Daleth wonders if it’ll be enough once they’re gone.

you can read the fic here on ao3 or below the cut

Daleth is afraid of being forgotten. Which, put this way, doesn’t really make any sense: they’re the most experienced and wise of all Elders, they’re the one others look up to, their advice is welcome and sought. They guide travellers and refugees towards the Light and have opened the gate to a brighter future for hundreds of people. They have seen pilgrims come to their Temple from faraway lands just to consult them, just to listen to the tales of times long gone, just to understand where they all come from and where they’re supposed to go.

Ayin adores Daleth’s company, Teth asks for their advice when feeling lost, young Samekh imbibe every piece of information they may find, eager to understand this world better. Tsadi shares their worries and discusses the news with them, Lamed requests their opinion on matters they deem important. There’s no reason for them to fear being forgotten, not really, not with the impact they have on the lives of so many people.

Still, Daleth wonders if it’ll be enough once they’re gone.

The child eyes them with apprehension, looking away the exact moment the Elder’s gaze meets theirs. They’re very young for the position they’re in, but, with Daleth’s assistance, they’ll manage. Daleth has no doubts and hopes the child’s will soon disappear, too.

***

Daleth is afraid of being forgotten, which, while still improbable, somehow seems plausible now. Or, perhaps, they’re simply getting worse with age. And the latter appears to them far worse than the former, because, scared and old, they wouldn’t be of much use to people, would they? They’ll end up forgotten, one way or another.

The Kingdom is flourishing. Darkness, which has been a major menace to most inhabitants of the Sky since the dawn of time, has started to subside, little by little. Castles emerge high and majestic, and fanfares announce the advent of a new age.

Daleth still shepherds travellers towards a better life, but something has changed in the way this journey is viewed. People seem to be in a hurry, enthusiastic — too enthusiastic, perhaps — and ambitious, and their hasty movements and decisions make the Elder frown. The travellers seek brilliance and stardom and speak of shiny golden statues and balconies with magnificent views as if these were their daily bread. Their dreams are big, too big for the mantas carrying their boats and the birds accompanying them, and Daleth starts to feel small, the weight of others’ expectations crushing them for the first time in centuries.

The world appears to centre around the endless festivities of Valley and business opportunities of Forest, the rest of the Kingdom slightly fading away in the background, unable to compare to the splendour of the Citadel or the abundance of resources in Forest Caves.

The change makes Daleth anxious, even if they don’t think the current situation will last long. And yet, the old and shabby Isle looks bleak in comparison with other realms, and they feel like it’s the same with them.

The young child is barely a child anymore, and they don’t particularly need the Elder’s help nowadays. They gravitate towards Samekh, who aren’t much older than the Prince themself and have a penchant for loud parties and fancy dresses, and disregard most of Daleth’s advice. But then again, Daleth shouldn’t take what they’re doing at this age so seriously. It probably won’t last long, either.

“Be careful, Alef,” the Elder admonishes just in case, “not to fly too high.”

“We live in a kingdom built in the clouds, Father. We should not be afraid of heights.”

It’s not really anyone’s fault that Isle is on the ground.

***

Daleth is afraid of being forgotten, but there’s not much to fear now. Few people live in Isle on a regular basis compared to those that stay there temporarily, and it often feels like those few people are the only ones who still remember the old and grumpy inhabitant of the Temple.

The rest are far too busy grovelling at the King’s feet.

Daleth arranges books carefully on the shelves, paying attention not to mess up the order, not to let a book fall. Their hands are getting shaky with age, and this thought alone makes them tremble even more.

No one really asks for their advice now, but the few Islanders that still keep the realm’s traditions alive look happy when their Elder shows up at their celebrations. And Daleth will make sure that their people will be left with enough of them once Daleth themself is gone.

They have come to accept that their assistance is no longer wanted, most siding up with the King instead. They all glorify progress and whatever else that Valley keeps screaming about. The petty part of Daleth likes to think that the Elders will come to their senses one day and start to ask them for forgiveness and advice. But it’ll be too late then, because Daleth will be angry and brave enough to send them away and make them clean up the mess they’ve made by themselves.

It'll be too late then, because Daleth will be gone by that time, laughing at these idiots from the starry sky.

For some reason, this little fantasy doesn’t make them feel much better.

The person hiding their face behind that monstrous mask has nothing childlike, and Daleth prefers to think that Alef died altogether than to accept what they have become. The Elder didn’t teach them to disregard nature, didn’t teach them to make up lies, and surely didn’t teach them to solve conflicts by taking arms. What they did teach was the exact opposite of these three things, but it seems like all of them have gone forgotten.

Just like everything else, Daleth supposes.

When Ayin comes to the Temple and asks them to join the Anti-Darkstone coalition, Daleth screams at them at the top of their lungs. There’s no way they’ll participate in this senseless slaughter, and there’s no way Ayin — their oldest and closest friend — ever thought they would.

The sky gets darker on the horizon, and Daleth can’t help but think that the current situation is unlikely to stop anytime soon.

They sigh and get back to their books.

***

Daleth is forgotten, just like the rest of the Kingdom, lying in ruins under a thick layer of dust for decades and decades and decades.

The child eyes them with apprehension, but they don’t look away when Daleth’s gaze meets theirs. They’re very young for the position they’re in, but Daleth has no other choice but let them do what they have to and hope that, against all odds, they’ll manage.

The Elder is no more than a shadow of their past self, a reflection on murky water of who they used to be. But then again, everything and everyone is. There’s nothing to be done.

It’s strange how different death is in reality compared to what they thought it would be like. After so many years of waiting, it almost feels underwhelming.

The books on the shelves are all yellow and dusty, and they fall apart the moment the Elder’s fingers touch them. But they’re standing in the very same order Daleth left them in, which can only mean one thing.

But at this point Daleth’s too numb to even care.

***

Daleth is afraid of being forgotten once again. Who would’ve thought they would?

There are children passing by the Temple almost every day, looking for trapped spirits, bringing light, or simply exploring. They come and go with the birds, able to reach such unfathomable heights Daleth worries they may fall.

“Be careful,” the Elder admonishes, “not to fly too high.”

They laugh.

“Oh, but you built a kingdom so high in the clouds! We couldn’t reach you at all if we dared not leave the ground!”

Daleth wonders if life is supposed to move in circles or if it’s just being cruel.

The children ask them questions and look for advice, explain how things are in other realms and request their opinion on all sorts of things, eager to learn everything about this world, its past and possible future, where the kids themselves come from and where they need to go.

And Daleth is happy. They really are. That they’re remembered, that they’re wanted, that, despite their imperfect knowledge, they’re popular among these lovely children.

Daleth has missed it.

And yet, when the Temple empties, they can’t help but feel a surge of melancholy.

Looking out of the window at the sand dunes where flowers used to bloom, they ask themself if they deserve being remembered.

***

Daleth is afraid of being forgotten and wishes life weren’t cyclical, but both things are, unfortunately, out of their hands.

It seems that Isle is far too empty for the curious children, who opt for spending their time in the peaceful Prairie, the enigmatic Forest, the splendid Valley, the exciting Wasteland or the mysterious Vault.

Even the deadly Eye of Eden seems to attract more attention that Isle.

And Daleth tries not to take it personally. It works for some time.

But they can’t deny the fact that other Elders have more fascinating stories to share, more artifacts to show. It’s always a question of quantity, not quality, Daleth realises. It has always been.

They don’t really want to believe it though.

The children running around aren’t the ones Daleth has tried befriending, and each new generation starts avoiding Isle in general and its Elder earlier and earlier into their lives. Perhaps it’s their older and more experienced friends who advise them against dwelling for too long in the lonely desert. The kids gravitate towards each other, after all, close in age and sharing a penchant for exciting adventures and varied sceneries. Daleth tried teaching them patience and concentration, but children are way too young to understand such complicated things.

And once again, the Elder feels them all slip away while they themself fade into oblivion.

(Even though there’s no reason for them to be forgotten, with the impact they used to have on the lives of so many people.)

#daleth's fear of being forgotten is a headcanon by leaf. it changed the chemistry of my brain #cyclical structure and cyclical nature of life my beloved #if you noticed that this fic references itself a bunch of times #it was intentional #the worst part about this fic is that in my ficverse there are forget-me-nots growing near isle temple #at first they were a metaphor and meant that daleth remembers how the world used to be and misses alef #but now they also look like a cry for help from daleth's part #as if they were begging others to remember them #this one wasn't intentional at all but now i can't stop thinking about it #imagine a family so dysfunctional they cause forget-me-nots to grow in their garden #sky children of the light #sky cotl #runaway writes #daleth #isle elder

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