shiro. dead.
the rest of his team? missing. but shiro. dead. it was almost too much for the savannah to handle, even after three months of wandering from place to place. a lost soul searching for a purpose that wasn't there, a friend searching for something, anything, to make the pain go away. lance was but a child, lonely and scared without anything to guide him. he missed his family, he missed his team and he missed home. with each new place he felt his hopes diminishing, his heart breaking with every step as he left group after group. the savannah was almost ready to give up searching, maybe settle down and get on with his life.
but with each new group he felt his hopes spark up again, the thought that his team could be somewhere out there was the only thing keeping him going. they were his life, his love, his drive. with each new group he searched for hunk's scent of engine oil and gunsmoke, or one of pidge's weird and wonderful contraptions. he scanned crowds, desperate for a glimpse of the mullet that he used to hate so god damn much. god, what lance wouldn't do to see that mullet right now, run his paws through it and kiss the living daylights out of the boy who wore it.
one more group.
that was what he'd always tell himself. just one more, then i'll stop. that was what he said as he left every group, the lie he fed himself from day to wretched day. reasoning was useless, everything he promised himself was a lie. just one more, lance would promise. they could be in the next one, he would reason. i'll stop after this one, he would lie. rational thought became a foreign concept. his ideals, broken promises. the royal kept wandering, his resolve threatening to break under the pressure of his own misery. he'd travel for weeks between groups, sometimes not eating for the entire trip. lance was but a shadow of his former self, bone thin and driving himself mad. the mask he hid behind was faded and worn, the paint chipped and the edges cracked. he couldn't put up this happy front for much longer. the male was sick of pretending to be a rugged adventurer, sick of having to pretend to be something that he clearly wasn't, tired of trying to be alright.
this is the last one, he promised himself, for the simple fact that this was the last place he had left to go. it was the end of the line, after this lance would have to decide whether to stay here or risk it on his own in uncharted territory. either way the altean didn't like his chances.
the pale hued feline sat at the edge of a border, tail wrapped messily around his paws and golden circlet askew atop his head. the male's usually immaculate fur was thin and disheveled, sticking up in places and doing absolutely nothing to hide how bony his frame was. lance observed the surrounding territory with a weary cobalt gaze, lip caught between teeth as his thoughts strayed to a better time, a better place.
