Isra walks along the street, the stones warming his bare feet. Isra never bothered with shoes, liking the connection he felt to the Earth when not wearing them. A breeze flows through the streets and he closes his eyes, relishing in the small moment of peace.

Although it's summer and everything is alive, Isra feels quite the opposite. He's positive that the body that he's in right now won't last much longer, and he's only had it for a couple of months, the aches in his bones feeling almost unbearable.

When everyone from Isra's Pantheon began leaving to join the mortal plane, he joined them. He hasn't been able to keep contact with them over the centuries, not sure if he really wants to. However, he is curious if they suffer the same as he does.

All of his family had to leave as their people slowly began to stop praying to them, choosing to place their prayers in technology instead. Isra was the God of Chaos, but now he's nothing.

Isra was the last to leave, used to not receiving and feeding off as many prayers as his stronger siblings. Only few prayed to the God Kaos; Isra. But when even those prayers began waning, he had to leave.

Isra admits that a small part of himself resents the humans for their unfaithfulness, and while he knows that before he would have taken out those feelings on the humans, now all he feels is hollow. After spending so many years with the humans and learning their ways, he doesn't know how to feel, and so any feelings of malicious intent he's left behind.

Isra takes a seat at the edge of a small fountain. While this fountain is overlooked by many for it hasn't aged well, it means so much to Isra. Its faded existence stands stark surrounded by the colorful buildings of the town. It used to be a fountain where gifts would be placed, a symbol of their subjects devotion. But now they've all forgotten, and along with the once beautiful artwork carved into the fountain, the gods themselves begin to fade.

Isra's stomach rumbles, but he chooses to ignore it, as he tends to do. The more time he spends on the mortal plane, the more his soul burns through the bodies it creates, not able to make them strong enough anymore.

Isra received very little in prayers and gifts before, yet it was still sufficient energy for him to consume. Now Isra's body craves something it cannot have, and so he is starved and weak. He's lost many of his powers over the years, as they require large amounts of energy, and he didn't realize being stripped of his identity could be so painful.

Isra watches with dull eyes as a small child walks up to the fountain. The child squeezes their eyes shut before flipping a coin into the fountain. His eyes follow the child as they walk off, seemingly satisfied that whatever wish they made will come true.

Isra knows otherwise though, and he focuses his eyes back onto the fountain, raking his hand through his curly hair.

He has half of mind to throw his own coin in, just to see if anyone is even listening anymore.

Instead he sighs, heaving his body up so he can begin walking to who knows where. Isra knows that some of his siblings would be appalled with how he's living now, especially Jessica. He knows that most of their siblings would take advantage of their situations, trying to make the best out of it and would want to live lavishly. Jessica, being the Goddess of Abundance, would especially so.

But Isra has resigned himself to living exactly how he feels inside, and that's by having nothing.

He doesn't feel right by watching this town change over the centuries, yet he can't find it in himself to leave. From small cottages came scaling buildings, and while he's thankful that the town has retained some of its old features, he doesn't like the change.

He doesn't like that he's still here, an antique rotting away while everything is moving on without him.

Isra has changed over the years, he will admit that. The humans have affected him although he tries to keep his distance. But he doesn't think that the change in him has been good, all of his old self seemingly stripped away and having nothing to replace it.

Sometimes he wonders why he keeps coming back, but he knows it's because there's still a part of him that hopes.

I'm sure no one is listening...

Isra pauses in his steps, looking around the street for the source of the whisper. No one is on the narrow street besides himself.

I don't know if it's selfish to ask or not...

Isra furrows his brow. The whisper comes like a breath in the wind, fluttering by his ear before it drifts away again.

It takes Isra a bit longer for him to realize what the whisper is; a prayer. He hasn't heard one in so long, and it's so faint, he didn't even think of it as a possibility. But all signs point to it being just that.

Although the whisper is faint, fading in and out, Isra focuses on it.

I'm not sure how much longer I can deal with this alone. I feel so alone. By focusing on the energy, soon an image of a boy appears. The image looks as if Isra is seeing it from underwater, however, it's clear enough.

Sitting on a bench, appearing to be soaking wet, sits a boy who appears to be in his late teens. The boy is hunched over, his arms wrapped around himself and shaking. Isra doesn't know how he feels as he stares at him in his mind's eye. A part of him is curious, what this human is doing praying to a god like him. Another part of him wants to refuse the situation entirely, instead continuing to go on with his own lonely existence.

However, in this case, his curiosity won out.

Isra focuses on the scene a little harder, and while it takes a little longer than it would have years ago, soon the scenery of his sunny home is replaced with a dark storm.

The rain pounds onto Isra, and he looks around before spotting the boy and walking towards him. The boy spots Isra and immediately goes rigid.

The cold doesn't bother Isra, and neither does the rain, however, the fear in the boy's eyes when Isra approaches him does.

He raises his hands. "I won't hurt you."

The boy looks at the god warily but soon slumps back into his relaxed position. Seeing the boy up close now, he now notices the dark pink mark covering nearly half of his face.

Isra cuts to the chase, sitting next to the boy, although he does so carefully. "What's wrong?"

"Why do you care?" He spits.

"I don't. I'm just curious."

"Whatever."

Isra continues to press, knowing he can't leave unless he's completely satisfied. "How old are you?"

"What is this? Twenty questions?" When Isra only raises his eyebrows, not knowing what that is, but judging from the boy's tone, it wasn't good. The boy rolls his eyes and grumbles, "I'm nineteen."

"And your name?"

"Corwyn." Isra opens his mouth to continue his questions but is cut off. "What's your name?"

"That doesn't matter."

Corwyn's face twists up. "It doesn't matter. You can't keep asking me all of these questions and not giving anything in return. I don't even know you." Corwyn gets up to walk away and face the rain alone. Corwyn isn't sure he can deal with anyone trying to psychoanalyze him at the moment.

Isra's hand reaches out to grab Corwyn's wrist. "Stop, no, I mean..." Isra takes a deep breath. "I apologize. I haven't talked to anyone in so long, and I think my curiosity just got ahead of me. I'm Isra."

Isra doesn't particularly like giving his name, knowing that names hold power, but he doesn't want to lie to this boy. Corwyn's eyes trace to the hand on his arm and Isra lets go when he notices. His eyes trace over Isra's figure as if noticing him for the first time, and for once Isra wishes he could read minds.

Isra clears his throat and stands up, only now noticing how short Corwyn is. "How about we get out of this rain, shall we?"

Corwyn shakes his head. "I'm not going to your house if that's what you were thinking." This is the first person besides Corwyn's family to show him kindness. He doesn't think it would be a good idea to go anywhere private with him.

"No, I was thinking some nearby establishment. My house isn't near enough for me to take you there."

"Oh, okay. The cafe?"

"Of course."

Isra puts his hand on Corwyn's back, leading him away. Isra is glad Corwyn suggested the cafe, Isra had no clue of where to take him. Although, he still has no idea of where he is or where he's going.

Corwyn notices this. "You do realize you're going the opposite direction of the cafe. Right?"

Isra looks sheepish. "Um, maybe you should lead. I'm not so sure I'm as familiar with the area as I thought."

Corwyn nods and leads them towards their destination quickly, wanting to seek shelter after being outside foolishly for so long. Corwyn didn't intend to just sit outside in the rain, but it just fit his mood, and a part of him wanted someone like Isra to show up and ask him what's wrong.

He just didn't expect it to actually happen.

They reach the cafe, Isra ripping open the door so that they can both enter inside. Dripping on the wooden floors, the eyes of several customers and employees land on them for a few seconds before moving on. Isra notes that the establishment doesn't look bad, although he doesn't know why he expected it would.

There are small tables lining both sides of the walls as well as couches towards the front. Isra notes the eclectic style of the space, all of the items adorning the inside seeming not able to go together, and yet they make the space work. There are plants adorning much of the space, as well as ivy hanging above them. Art lines the walls as well, which makes Isra's mood peak.

Isra has always loved art, liking that even long after the artist is gone, the art itself still remains to tell its own history. There are still some pieces depicting him and his siblings around today.

Isra is snapped out of his thoughts when Corwyn begins walking ahead of him towards an empty table. Sitting across from him, Isra quirks his head, still trying to figure Corwyn out, while Corwyn seems interested in anything but the god sitting across from him.

Isra keeps his eyes on Corwyn even as the waitress comes to take their order. Corwyn gives Isra a weird look, before deciding to order for him. He isn't sure if he should have agreed to come to the cafe with the man, seeing as he's done nothing but weird him out. However, they're in a public place, and Corwyn has never been one to turn down something new.

Or in this case, someone.

The two of them don't say a word to each other until the waitress comes back with both of their drinks. Corwyn had ordered hot chocolate for both of them, not knowing what the other man would want.

Isra stopped staring at Corwyn to stare down at his drink instead.

"What is this?"

"Hot chocolate. I didn't know what you liked, and you were zoned out so..."

Isra says nothing to that and instead takes a hesitant sip of the drink. It's sweet. Shockingly so, but to Isra's denied tastebuds, it tastes like heaven.

Of course, he doesn't say this. "It's good." Corwyn nods, giving an awkward smile at the response. "So, tell me about yourself."

"Um, no."

Isra pouts. "Why not?"

"Because I don't know you?"

Isra stays silent for a moment, calculating his next moves in his head. This boy intrigues him more than he thought that he would. When at first he thought that he would only get a look at the boy, maybe ask why he was praying to long lost deities, instead, he finds himself enjoying the boy's company.

"I'm new in town and I was hoping to find someone to get to know, maybe a friend. You looked like someone who could fill that role. If you're not interested in that then you're free to leave at any moment. I'm not holding you here by any means."

Isra says this, and while he hopes that the boy chooses to stay, he knows that if Corwyn chose not to, nothing could stop him from leaving.

Corwyn hesitates for a few moments. He knows that it isn't wise to trust a total stranger, especially one who walked up to him barefoot in the pouring rain, but there's something about Isra that draws him in.

Corwyn has been alone most of his life. Not necessarily alone per say, but definitely lonely. Corwyn always felt left out and different from the rest, no one wanting to befriend someone with a marred face.

He's desperate for a friend and hopes that it doesn't end in a disaster or with him back on that bench in the rain.

"Alright, I'll stay."

Isra smiles at the response and sips his hot chocolate.