i’ve had this thing in my notes app but errrr here u go tumblr (tr!sneeg YIPPEPEE)
Something about power… appeals to Sneeg.
He works day and night, grinding and grinding to get his numbers up.
He joined the Kingdom for power. For supplies and alliances to make it easier to gain it for himself.
People ask him… why?
Why gain this power?
To rule the Realm? To be able to kill and take down anyone in his way? To protect those he cares about?
And while those things are… good benefits (barring the first one; he couldn’t care less about that), those aren’t the reasons why.
The feeling. It’s the feeling of power and effort and strain running through his veins, the work it requires to feel it.
It’s addicting, heady. One could call him greedy, prideful—committing deadly sins; it’s certainly gotten him killed a few times now.
It drives him to travel far and wide across the globe, away from his friends and isolating him. It drives him to do dangerous, risky things, in order to prove himself capable, greater.
But he does it anyway. Because the journey of gaining power, seeing the numbers go higher—something about it drives him to keep moving forward.
To keep living to see the next day, even when—even if… no one is there anymore.
But… that doesn’t matter here. He has people he cares about… here. So it drives him to continue to be able to protect them, even after he fails.
Because he can get better. He can be good enough, he can, if he just tries—
He can stop them from leaving him forever. If they just see how useful he is, maybe they won’t—disappear. Whether it be out of choice or not.
…Perhaps there’s two reasons. Maybe. Though to Sneeg, it doesn’t really matter the reason why.
He does what he does. And for some reason (that of which doesn’t matter), power—and the work it requires to gain it—appeals to him.
It draws him nearer, white hot and burning, searing his skin as he closes in. A flame.
And, to a moth like him, there is nothing more addicting. Nothing more distracting, nothing more mind-enveloping, than the grind it takes to feel the warmth in his cold skin.
Even when the journey kills him, he comes back, again and again, just for the burn that scorches away every other ailment in his mind.
He will hone the flame into his own.
He will draw the flame to the moth.
(Although, maybe it’s hubris making him think he can defy his nature.)