Journey of the Sanses

Chapter 2: Visions & Dreams

By the time that Geno had returned to his ledge in the catacombs, he was exhausted, both physically and mentally. He was tired from not only the excitement about the full understanding of the prophecy, but also from walking all the way from the study chamber to the catacombs, even though it was only the second time that he had done so today. Not to mention that he was also strained from the emotional problems that had nearly overwhelmed him within the past few days.

After Geno sat down on his ledge, he began thinking about his emotions. They were such a mess that he didn't even know how to describe himself - either he was depressed or completely insane. He was thinking about his feelings so thoroughly that he didn't notice that his hands were pulling down his sleeves until he felt the familiar touch of his sharp fingernails against his bones.

Geno snapped out of his train of thought and looked down on his nonexistent wrists. They were patched with scratches and cuts of various lengths, but they were injuries nonetheless - and he had done all of that to himself.

He had only ever accidentally hurt himself during a panic attack, but after a few more instances, it became a habit - and his way of coping with his erratic feelings. He only did it when no one else was around, and he always made sure to have his sleeves down at all times. If his friends ever found out about what he was doing to himself, they would definitely worry about him, as well as his emotions - and he really didn't need, much less want, that.

With that, Geno looked around the catacombs to see if anyone was watching him, only to find that no one else was there with him. Then he began to stroke his fingernails through his bones. At first he felt immense pain, but it only took a few seconds for it to dissolve into emotional satisfaction. That was how he always felt after he injured himself - complete stillness and peace in his mind.

After a few more minutes of inflicting satisfying pain upon himself, he stopped his almost-daily voluntary task of self-harm. Once he had taken care of the magical blood that seeped from his new wounds, he rolled up his sleeves.

He then walked over to the nearby lake in the catacombs to wash his hands so that there would be no evidence of his recent self-harm. As he did so, he contemplated why he was feeling this way. The first time that he had ever felt remotely depressed was when he had given up trying to hope for the best. He had done so because he had accepted the fact that he and his friends would never truly be able to end the Multiversal War.

He knew that they would have help from the adults, but it was seemingly unrealistic that five young skeletons, along with Yekel's incarnation, would be capable of ending a war that was practically everywhere - from the innocent Underswap Universe, which been destroyed in recent years, to the guilty-as-charged Vampire-Verse, and even the merciless Draconians.

To put it simply, in his opinion, there was no way that they would be able to do it. To top it off, they didn't even know who Yekel's incarnation was. The truth was that, even though the adults would strengthen their hopes every single day, it would be impossible to fulfill the prophecy and end the war. And if that was true, then why were they alive? What was the purpose of his life?

He instinctively reached for his eye sockets, only to feel the familiar moisture of gathering tears, no doubt caused by his depressingly pessimistic thoughts. He immediately wiped away his tears, for fear that he would start crying. The last thing that he needed was for his friends and caretakers to see him cry.

There was no doubt in his mind that they would attempt to comfort him and get him to open up about his feelings, and given his current emotional state right now, he didn't think that he could survive another interrogation from his friends and caretakers.