A plane move among moving white clouds that seems to be moving with, it
With rush, the plane moves ,
As Kris gripped the plane's controls, his mind drifted to Aaron, his Senirips. The hum of the engines filled the cockpit, steady and constant, yet his thoughts moved elsewhere, tracing the memory of Aaron's voice, the way he would look at him with a warmth that felt like a promise.
Every glance over the horizon reminded him of the distance that stretched between them—a distance that felt too vast, like the endless sky beyond the cockpit windows. The clouds rolled past, and he imagined Aaron's hand in his, imagined closing the space that seemed to linger between them both in air and heart.
Flying felt different today, filled with a longing that weighed against the steady rhythm of his breath. He missed Aaron in ways he couldn't even put into words. It wasn't just about closeness, but a feeling that felt boundless, like the open sky. He could see himself there with him, standing on some far-off runway, hands meeting in quiet acknowledgment, a silent connection that went beyond words.
The altimeter's numbers ticked forward, but Kris's mind drifted further, tracing the imagined curve of Aaron's smile, the warmth of his laugh that lingered in his memory. With every mile, he felt that ache grow deeper, as if every distance covered only reminded him of the one he still had to bridge.
But for now, he held onto that feeling, let it fill the surrounding air, knowing that somewhere, Aaron was looking up at the same sky, maybe even thinking of him. And when he landed, he knew he'd reach out, close that distance, and finally let that quiet longing find a place to rest.
Lost in thoughts of Aaron, Kris stared ahead, eyes unfocused, mind drifting somewhere between clouds and memory. He barely noticed the faint sound of footsteps—until his brother's hand clapped on his shoulder, grounding him back into the here and now.
"Hey, Kris," his brother's voice broke in, steady, familiar, pulling him out of that silent world of longing. "Earth to Kris. You with us?"
The warmth in his brother's voice cut through the haze, dragging him gently from those distant daydreams. It was a reminder of everything solid, a tether pulling him back from where his mind wandered. His brother's laughter filled the room, filling the empty spaces with something real, something bright, as if chasing away every lingering shadow of longing and leaving only the light.
For a moment, Kris felt the ache ease, felt himself settle back into the comfort of family, of here, of now.
Kris blinked, snapping back into focus, his brother Watson's face clear now, his voice steady, waiting. The thoughts of Aaron faded, leaving him grounded, his brother's hand still a solid weight on his shoulder.
"What's the matter, Watson?" Kris asked, turning his full attention to him.
Watson gave a small smile, his eyes holding that familiar warmth, yet a glint of mischief sparkled there too, as if he'd caught Kris lost in his own world and was ready to tease him for it. Kris braced himself, letting his focus shift fully to Watson, feeling the comfort of family pull him back from where his thoughts had wandered.
"What's on your mind?"
Watson's playful expression t faded, his face turning serious, the shift drawing Kris's attention even more. Kris watched his brother's expression settle into something grave, his usual warmth shadowed with concern.
"There's something I wanted to talk to you about," Watson began, his voice lower now, steady, filled with frustration. "It's about the solé. They're being pushed around, bullied in ways that aren't always obvious. It's society, Kris—the way people talk to them, look at them. The assumptions, the dismissive glances, like they don't quite fit in."
He paused, searching Kris's face, as if hoping to convey the information without needing too many words. Kris could feel the intensity of his brother's worry, the quiet anger underlying it, the sense that something important was at stake.
Kris's brows furrowed, a deep, calm frown rested on his face as he absorbed Watson's words. He held his brother's gaze, his thoughts sink in with the situation, and a quiet anger stirred beneath his calm exterior.
"Isn't the government supposed to be responsible for the people?" Kris asked, his voice low and edged with intensity. "Why aren't they doing their work?"
A small sigh broke through Watson's own seriousness as his expression softened. "Easy, Kris," he said, lifting a hand in a calming gesture. "Take a breath. We're not alone in this, and there are ways we can help. But first, we need to think it through."
The sharpness of his frustration was eased by his words, reminding Kris to stay steady.
In the quiet of his mind, Kris's thoughts formed a steady, neutral current, distilling his frustrations into stark realizations. As Ravenhill's ruler, he had entrusted government officials with the duty to guide and protect his citizens. He had extended authority to those who vowed to uphold justice, to those who had pledged their loyalty to the people. And yet, beneath the surface, a shadow had grown. Shady dealings and unspoken prejudices festered underground, threatening the safety and dignity of the solé.
He was overwhelmed by it all , realization hit him he might have been betrayed,What more could they have done? How many had turned a blind eye, letting this cruelty persist in silence? With each thought, his blood boiled hotter, a quiet but fierce anger building as he considered the negligence that had allowed his people to be mistreated, the failure of those sworn to prevent such harm.
Watson leaned forward and tried to tell Kris how serious the situation was. "The truth is, Kris," he began, his tone serious but measured, "the solé need more social interaction to feel accepted, to integrate into society. But instead, they face bullying and discrimination."
He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing. "People don't see them as normal individuals. They see differences, and that makes them uncomfortable. They don't recognize the solé as equals, as part of our community. Instead, they push them away, treating them like outsiders, and that's where the bullying comes from."
Watson's voice was steady, reflecting the frustration and sadness he felt for those who were suffering. "It's not just about ignorance; it's about fear of what they don't understand. And that fear leads to cruelty."
Kris nodded with a deep frown. "How many suicides of the solé?"
Watson frowned, his expression mirroring Kris's. He walked to the side seat on the plane, pulled out a blue document, and looked it over. After a moment, he looked back at Kris.
"Seven hundred and one," he said.
Kris's gaze dropped like an abyss.
All those solé, all dead… just like that. The thought hit hard. Seven hundred and one lives are gone.
It didn't make sense to him. How could so many people suffer and no one do anything? Each death felt like a loss that shouldn't have happened. They were just trying to live, and now they were gone.
It felt wrong. It made him angry. How could people be so cruel? It shouldn't be like this. There had to be a way to help, a way to change things.
The numbers swirled in his mind. More lives lost, more pain. How many more had to die before someone cared?
Kris took a deep breath with his cold, deep eyes. His lips moved as he said to Watson, "Do you think that because the solé are devoid of all emotions, they find life pointless and decide to commit suicide?"
Watson paused for a moment, frowning. He then responded, "A solé being devoid of all emotions is half the reason for them committing suicide, but not being accepted in society affects them more. Even a little turn from a person can give someone the thought to misbehave."
Kris concluded coldly, "Put down all the names of the government officials." A smirk crossed his face as he got up, flipping his suit jacket. He had landed the plane already. Kris knew that all those corrupt officials under him were going to have it.
Watson nodded, noting the seriousness in his tone.
"For now," he added, "I just need to see my dear senirips to calm my heart down."