Babe the yellow dragon is sad again

Été sprinted through the marshy rainforest, the roaring rain drumming harsher and harsher onto their skull. They crashed through foliage, their mind dead set on the urge to run. It was as though the rain created the perfect beat, for their mind to sing it’s worst.

When they skidded to a halt in a water-soaked clearing, they felt disgust with themself. Their legs splattered with mud, scratches and leaves littering their body— and of course, their shaking talons, struggling to even stand up.

*If Father saw me right now, he would be furious.* Été gloomily sighed. *Well— Hard for him to get more angry.*

Part of them wanted to keep running, their legs flying them to a place far from their Family. A different part of them pleaded to bury itself, to become one with all the ancient pieces of time. (The thought of far gone relics made them want to puke.)

Another part of Été simply wanted to stay.

So they stood. Their chest heaving for air, thoughts darting through their head.

*”How could you.*”

Été shut their eyes, wishing they could slam their head into a tree and *stop* those words from surfacing. Their mind pressed on.

*”We raised you. We cared for you, we gave you everything.”* Été fought the urge to claw at their head, hissing for the thoughts to *please please please* go away. *”And you… you do this?*

Été, alone in a world incased in water, found it much easier to respond. “I just wanted to do something for MYSELF for once. I- I just- I can’t be what you WANT me to be.”

Their dying roar quickly was lost in the storm.

*Inside their head, the real Été just bowed their head, silent tears pushing to be released.*

*”What kind of role is Relics Gatherer. A joke? A way to ignore any true purpose you could’ve had? You are part of the Finality family— even if you don’t look or act like us.” Their Father stared down at them. Even if Été had forced themself to stare down at the polished floor, they could feel those burning eyes watching them. **“You disappoint me.”***

*Oh, the way those three words can unravel every bit of my sanity is truly remarkable.* Été felt a chuckle, and then a cracked laugh build in their throat. Those words represented every cold look, every hostile snarl, every disgusted, snobby gaze that had been cast at them.

Été stared at the muddy clearing, the rain screaming against their scales, the horrible noise in their throat cutting off. They were alone.

*Well, it’s always been like that. Now it feels a little more real.*