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[PP - F4] Lamentations


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Icarus' eyes fixated on the slow wave of the fire undulating in the hearth.  Minutes, or maybe even hours, had passed and yet his will to pry his gaze away from the lively flames couldn't be found.  A tankard of drink was held loosely in one hand while the other lifelessly hung at his side at the pull of Aincrad's artificial gravity.  The contents of his mug were alcoholic and probably warm but after the fifth one, he found that it didn't matter much.  Not that it exactly mattered in the first place, as he was forbidden from achieving inebriation due to the governing laws set in stone by the Cardinal system.  The raucous noises filling the tavern around him were a dull disturbance in the distance, drowned out by his droning focus on the fireplace and a sheer lack of regard for the world around him.  His mind was blank; he had forced his thoughts out and made sure nothing haunting filled the void left in their abandonment.  He didn't want to think or feel anything.  This wasn't the Icarus that few knew but this was the one that he had become; even the patina of the brightest metal dulls given enough time.

The thing about depression is it never just "sneaks" up on you.  No, you know long before it takes a hold of you that it's there, lurking in the shadows of your mind while it slowly creeps into every part of you.  You do what you can to keep it at bay but just as iron turns to rust, it corrodes your thoughts and feelings into things you hardly recognize anymore.  Two years of his life were lost to this damned game and the end was nowhere in sight.  While others struggled and progressed, Icarus lamented.  By his own decision, he had stayed back in the Town of Beginnings to help those less able and while that brought him joy in the beginning, they eventually progressed while he stagnated.  They moved on while he stayed, far too weak to join his comrades at the front or make himself of use to others.  Icarus had devoted so much time to others that he didn't save enough for himself, eventually finding himself in a cyclic trench he couldn't climb out of.  After enough time, he resigned to the apathy that had a stranglehold on him.  The lights that had once guided his way had become nothing more than faded wisps against the darkness of perpetual night.

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  • 1 month later...

"Ic.  Icarus.  Hey!"

The quietest of voices strained against the vacuum of silence subjugating him but his spoken name was lost against the dull roar of the usual tavern sounds he had put out of his mind.  His lack of focus was still hazily drifting over the fireplace while every bit of him sought numbness in response to the pain of living in a digitalized prison.  Still, like a gnat, the voice persisted, incessantly driving at his defenses until a single call fell upon his ears.

"Soren!" the voice named.

And just like that, with the swiftness of a slow, fumbling snap, Icarus' mind opened the gates at the sound of his birth name and let the world of Sword Art Online flood back in.  The first thing he noticed was the figure of a tall, armored woman standing at his right with her plated hands fixed on her hips.  The usually smooth features of her face absolutely rife with annoyance, twisted in a way he had been growing more accustomed to in the past couple of months.  She was Gloryana, or Glory for short, one of the few young adventurers he had helped adjust to life in Aincrad after being paralyzed by the initial shock of their predicament.  She was one of the two people in this artificial world that kept tabs on him, likely out of some sort of misguided sense of owing debt for all that he had done for her years ago.  Icarus would much rather have her forget about him entirely and worry more about taking care of herself.

"Hey Glory," he said, shifting his body out of a slouch and into a more upright position within his chair.  His eyes looked to the mug that had been long held by his hand and slowly loosened his grip on it before pushing it into the center of the table.  "Sorry, I'm a little out of it today."

Gloryana was already pulling out a chair and moving to take a seat before Icarus could find the faculties to offer it to her.  She was seated by the time he gestured to it with his hand, his mouth opened to speak but slowly shut instead of making a fool of himself with further words.  Judging by her insistence and the way she was carrying about her weight, he was in for an earful.

"Today?  Out of it today?  Icarus, you've been out of it for weeks, hun, and we're starting to get worried.  I can't get Honorable to shut up about how much he misses seeing you around.  You don't know how frustrating it is hearing your spouse talk nonstop about another man."  Gloryana was a woman who didn't pull her punches but alleviated the sting of them with humor when she could.  She talked to the point and while she might have sounded crass, she did so with the best of intentions.  She didn't like seeing Icarus in this manner and it would eat at her if she didn't think she was doing everything in her power to rectify the situation.

Icarus just sighed.

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