Caelum

The pain was shattering.

It was consuming; it was all-powerful, never-ending - a pain that erupted like the angry fire of a volcano, destroying everything in its path. That heavy acknowledgment soured memories that her world was ending. Her carefully constructed lie was corrupting, unraveling. But if there was ever one individual she couldn't hide from, it was Syn. Absynthe that knew her as she knew herself. But, did she? So much time had passed, and she could see it in the tiny flickers in Syn's eyes. The inability to read her, to decipher her. To not know the anger Caelum wore so heavily was never directed outwards.

How could Caelum ever blame her?

It was her fault, Caelum's fault. Caelum blamed herself for everything. For not protecting Convallis better. For not being able to spare her kingdom. For the Autumn Court having to shut its borders. For her parents' murder. For . . . for him. For his death. For the cost of he, who was more important to her than anything else in the world. The stallion whose memory could still chill her to the bone or set her skin ablaze. The stallion whose smile haunts her dreams and whose death plague's her nightmares. The being whose sister now lived around Caelum's neck.

Would Syn ever believe how dark she'd gone?

How dark her being had corrupted, how far she'd fallen, how much her light had waned, and began to bleed red. She wasn't the light of summer; she was the haunting of the harvest moon. She was the patron of pain and suffrage. The drought to her people's land, the death to the fields. She was pathetic, she was cursed, she was hurting. And Syn's words didn't help. Syn seemed to be so focused on what she hadn't done, that for a moment, Caelum was overcome with agitation that she wasn't hearing the words she was speaking. And then, the winter fae said those words, and Caelum's voice rang out.

It rang clear, with a pitch to her tone that dropped it low.

Her snarl was back, her features almost shifting to something demonic - tricks she'd picked up from a demon lover. "Destined for darkness? I have danced with it. Embraced it so thoroughly, it stained my light. What positive soul do you think I have? Ask me this, Absynthe, how many lives have I felled? Not indirectly, but by my own hoof. You always see the promising filly you knew me as, but I am not her anymore. I have not been her in a long time. Yes, you rebelled, and like any rebellious child with the reigns suffocating you, you ran. No one can blame you for that. Even your father had admitted at one point that it was only to be expected. It is what your people, your kingdom does. The Winter Court rebels."

Caelum softened softly, her snarl gentling, her eyes warming.

"Cousin, there is much we don't know about each other any longer. Please, do not put me up on a pedestal, I shall only fall, and the suffrage you face will worsen. The higher you place us, the harder we crush you when we fall. And dearest, treasured cousin, I am the last soul you should put upon a pedestal." Because the sins she had committed, they were so much worse than the ones Syn wanted to put upon herself. And then her cousin paused her thoughts, her voice almost broken, but Caelum was smiling slightly, her gaze going skyward, "I did. Convallis. Little thing. Dunskin, with the whitest hair and the blackest wings." She spoke so softly, "He is with the mother, father, and Arson in the skies, dancing among the stars now. As all of our people do when their time comes to pass. I'd believe Calico is up there as well."

Trey returned to the ground.

She knew he wouldn't be above, dancing with the stars, not her Trey, of fire and darkness and devilish promise. She knew better than to think that of him. He might not have always liked his demonic side, but . . . when it came down to it, she knew he'd be causing his favorite brand of chaos deep below. Then her cousin spoke, and it was like shutters came down over Caelum, "I am." She admits, before shaking her head, "Not one I do not wish to tell you, to tell others. It is the one who hurts the most to speak about."

Her entire face was changing.

Her breath was fragile as the memories surged forward, the light touch of his muzzle against her cheek, kisses pressed to her forehead, her neck. The soft lingering touches, the heated look in his eyes. The way he could make butterflies erupt in her belly with one look. He was the one soul she struggled to talk about, the one name she spoke so rarely. Because talking to him in past tense brought up the memories of his demise, which was harder to take than any other death, she had wished for. So instead, she grasped to the words her cousin spoke, "I will not lie, I do not know what your parents may or may not do if you could try to walk through the gates. Not then, not now. But; I also know your parents loved you. They may have wished better for you, but they always loved you."

Her words were spoken so gently.

Perhaps it was her way of putting off talking of Tremaine; perhaps she just wanted Syn to see she wasn't at fault. Especially as trying to explain what happened, what had gone wrong in Caelum's life was difficult when Syn started to blame herself. Briefly, a part of Caelum wondered how others felt when she started up on the same exact lines. "It is not the kingdom that is precious; it is the lives that live within it. It is the people, those we want to help, to serve, and to protect." She spoke gently, her gaze finally turning back to her cousin, "Those we love, those we care about. Even your parents knew this. They may have an odd way to show it, but it is no less true for them as it was for my parents . . . for me. For you."

Caelum sighed, her gaze turning down to her glass.

"Absynthe, my anger will never be directed at you, not ever. You are my cousin, my beloved cousin; we were like sisters growing up. This anger, this hatred I feel, is for no one but myself." There was a pause, and for the first time, tears welled up in her eyes, "And, the one being I want to be waiting for me in the afterlife will not be there. Like all fae, I will fly up to join the stars, just as my parents did, just as you or I will do when our time is up . . ."

Her breath stuttered before the name finally slipped from her lips.

"Tremaine's soul went down below." His name was whispered so tenderly, so forlorn, heartbroken. But it was the acknowledgment of the name she hadn't been able to say yet, and with those words spoken out loud, the knowledge they would never cross paths again, Caelum's dam broke. Not just of the memories that were suddenly swirling in her head, but the emotions that came tumbling out, raw and painful, from the box she'd locked them in - as well as the tears now spilling down her cheeks.

She glanced in, surprised to see another in the room, but said nothing, instead of heading to her spot, pulling out the art supplies and glancing down at Arson's face. It's coming along lovely, Caelum. She had smiled thankfully at the older mare, one of her favorite mentors, one who knew the princess's story. She did glance curiously to her right, to the dark stallion who seemed to be struggling to figure out how to paint something, before finally focusing on her piece. Still, she couldn't help but glance over at the stallion, his demon wings pulled close to his body, and paint seeming to be splattered everywhere, including his face. A faint quirk of her muzzle, she spoke softly, not looking up from her work, "I'm not sure if you're aware of the concept, but the paint goes on the canvas, not yourself." He had laughed, friendly, as he replied, Yeah, but the brush can't seem to focus properly, especially when such a pretty lady is in the room, the poor thing's so distracted. He'd even stroked the paintbrush, as if to consol it, Tremaine Morgan, a pleasure to meet you.

It had been such a gentle, casual meeting, him glancing at her piece before finally asking for her help. She'd gotten through to him in a manner not even the teacher had managed, and when he'd finally completed the assignment the way the mentor had been wanting, he'd invited her out for a drink. She had eagerly accepted an offer before invisible little gremlins had made a wreck of things and yet only aided in bringing the two closer together.

The paint had begun to splatter, giggling heard from unknown creatures, and the stallion had growled in response, even as his focus had shifted - shifted to her, to make sure she was alright. She had squeaked in alarm. Suddenly paint was splattering down, pink slipping down his brow, over his muzzle and shoulders. She had been splattered with blue paint, and at that moment, the stallion had started to slip, barely catching himself, but in the process had unintentionally pinned her between the table and his own steady frame. She had blushed as she looked up at him before a slow smile had stretched across her muzzle, starting to giggle at the sight of him. The pink paint had splattered everywhere and was slowly dripping down his body, mixing with the blue paint that was covering her own. You are covered in pink, Trey! And yet she didn't even attempt to move from the awkward position they had been put into, even as she'd tossed her mane back, coating more of it in blue, We look dreadful! I do hope our mentor doesn't decide to come to check on your progress just yet. She had had to force herself to slide away from the table, briefly pressing closer to him in the process, before managing to slip around him, using her own shoulder briefly to help steady him back to his hooves. He had grinned down at her, with so much promise to his gaze, that the offer of a drink had certainly turned into a date.

It would be the first of many. "Tremaine Morgan . . . I . . met him shortly after my parents had sent me away. He . . . he was . . . Well, to put it frankly, he was my opposite. I was light to his dark. The fae and the demon. And yet . . . we fit together so perfectly. It was so perfect. Until it wasn't." She could still remember that night, the haunting laughter of those that ransacked the fair they had been at. How they had tried to hide, to find safety in the funhouse. How they had been found, how the mirrors all around them had shown the massacre that followed. How much he had stood, trying to fight, trying to defend. She fought like a hellion at his side, refusing to go down or hide behind him and instead of standing at his side. She remembered that cocky, self-sure grin that spoke volumes of how proud he was of her when they stood side by side when those other stallions had entered.

She also remembered the fear.

The fear that had haunted those ruby eyes as he begged her to run, to let him give her a chance to escape, and she couldn't do it. She couldn't let him sacrifice himself for her, and she swore to him, she'd be there, she'd be by his side. And then, he had fallen. She remembered watching him hit the ground, those eyes of his, so full of life going dull. She remembered racing to him, crying out in anguish as she begged him to get up. How she'd gone numb as she slid in his blood as it coated the floor. So numb, she hadn't felt the chains wrapped around her until she was being pulled away.

She'd been numb since that point.

"I lost him. I tried so hard, he and I both did, to fight off those who had come after us. They didn't even really know who I was. They just saw a price to be sold on the market. And . . . they had killed him to get at me. He was my everything, Syn. You do not get over love like that. He was more than just Arson. Convallis helped heal some of that pain, but then I lost my baby boy, and it all came spiraling back. You say I'm lucky for experiencing love, for having a child. But that love was short-lived. My child didn't even get to be old enough to even try grass for the first time. That's not luck; that's not a blessing. That's foolishly giving me a taste of something wonderful and then ripping it away."

Caelum collapsed next to her cousin, finally giving up the pretenses.

Tears fell freely at this point, and she buried her forehead against the mane of her cousin, curling into the younger fae's side as she wept, "I've lost it all, and every time it was my fault. If I had left when Trey begged me to, We might have both made it out alive. Had Calico and I been more careful, we might have been able to get away with helping others escape slavery. He and Convallis wouldn't have needed to die. If we had sent the freed slaves anywhere else to live life away from the masters that hunted them; anywhere but my home, then the Summer Court would have never been burnt down. Mother and father would never have died. None of this is on you, you were just a girl trying to find your own place in the world, and that is okay.

"It was my foolish mistakes, the choices I made.

"I'm the reason all those lives were lost. I'm the reason Convallis died so young. That my kingdom is in ruin. That Tremaine will never smile and call me 'babe' ever again. It's all my fault. So stop blaming yourself, please. Because it only makes it hurt more for me . . . and I'm so tired of hurting and being in pain, Syn. Please. Can we both agree we fucked up, even, and just leave it at that. Please. Stop trying to tell me I did good, or I tried to do what was right. And let's both be fuck ups. Because I don't want to be the perfect princess, I haven't been her in a long time. And damn it . . . I don't want to be her ever again. But I want to be me, the one who made the thrown room into a pool, the Caelum who danced with Trey beneath the moon and promised him I'd never leave his side. I want to be her again; I don't want to keep hurting and bottling it up.

"I'm tired of always blaming myself."



"Speech"
Thoughts
@Absynthe
Notes:

art by bingo

Caelum

There was one common truth among all the paths this conversation took.

Never was Caelum's ire directed towards the fellow fae. Never was the snarl for her. Never was the anger Syn's to take claim of. It was the anger of the summer fae that she held for herself, for those who had destroyed her everything. Her future, her happiness, her love, her family, her kingdom, her world. Everything that made her who she had been meant to be: A queen, a daughter, a mother, a wife. Her entire world had gone dark over and over again; that her own light had been stained as a result. Her bubbly personality had long ago shuttered shut, and every time she tried to act like she was who she was before, it grew more and more difficult. To the point, Caelum stopped wanting to try.

She didn't want to ignore the darkness staining her soul.

The snarl was a relief, the anger, the look that fell so naturally upon her, as natural as it had looked on Trey's face when he entered his own defensive stance, and now she adopted it to defend her thoughts, her feelings. It wasn't that she was disregarding the other, but in this moment, Caelum did not want her own suffrage swept under. She was done sacrificing herself for the emotional needs of another. She was done denying herself healing. She was done pushing her emotions and pains into that box deep in her belly and letting them fester. Syn was supposed to be a safe place, an individual she could talk to, not someone to take the blame and ignore her suffering. Caelum might prefer to soothe the pains of others . . .

But for once, Caelum wanted soothing.

And this was not what she was getting. Not as Syn raised her head, not as she was called out for having a features cold and cruel. Slowly those chocolate eyes were hardening, glinting as obsidian in that stormy face. Slowly she felt her shoulders straighten, and her eyes narrow. It was as if she was sucking up all the warmth her home usually held, as her body began to feel cold as ice. "Then you are a fool, cousin; to believe that the Winter Court isn't expected to rebel, just as you are a fool to believe that just because I have adopted a few new masks, does not mean that I am unrecognizable." Her voice was low, hollow, as if staring at her cousin, judging the soul set before her. Her words shifted then, her very tone shifting as the fae who had come into the most of her majority already flared that power, the power that marked her as a Monarch among her people, "Do not count yourself a lesser because you left. Do not consider it something that should never have happened. We all need to escape when everything thing weighs down too hard. You were once my escape, where you not? Does that mean I should have never allowed you to to pull me from my studies? To show me how to cause chaos? "

Caelum frowned, her expression never softening.

Absynthe needed to hear this, "We become what our people need, not through strive and dedication, but through actions and learning. You don't open a book, and read to know what you need to be. You experience it. Through running, through exploring, through living. Fleeing isn't a bad thing when we are youthful and stupid. We're expected to fumble, before we are raised back up. If you still blame yourself for the stresses you were under, perhaps you're just not learning yet." Caelum looked away, cold and angry, "And do not attempt to dictate how We should feel, based on your own opinions, and do not dismiss Our mistakes based on your own perceived failures." The tone had switched again, and suddenly it wasn't the former princess standing before Syn, but the queen of the fae.

"We have stumbled, We have fallen to Our knees. We have seen the chaos with Our own eyes, and held the blade that was driven through the throat of freedom. We have caused the collapse of an empire, by Our own selfish desires, and lack of forethought and planning. We have seen Our people slaughtered like animals before a pyre, and walked into the massacre left behind. You know nothing of what We have done, what We have experienced. And yet, you think your troubles outway Ours?" Caelum stood tall, wings flaring out, as those thorny roses started to grow through out her mane and tail, dripping in dark ruby and curling thorns through her locks, a creature of both light and dark, as her magic flourished in her sorrow that Syn would ignore her pain, her suffering. "So you ran, so you rebelled, so you weren't the picture perfect daughter of Summer. But you were the ideal daughter of Winter. You rebelled, you acted out, and you grew stronger, more competent by that freedom. Because Winter is Chaos. Calamity. Destruction. And in those instances, a rebel is needed to curb those instincts. It's why your father never chased. It's why you were given room. Because to control those very aspects of Winter; would have seen you fail as We have."

The queen felt the shudder down her spine, but she didn't give up, she pushed further, harder. "You're so bitter and angry; you don't want to acknowledge the truths of the world. You see your own failures and become blind to everything around you." Slowly that anger was depleting, the air around Caelum diminishing, but she didn't give up, even as she wondered if this is what her father meant when he complained that arguing with a Winter fae was like trying to point out truths to a wall. But then . . . then she would say such a thing. "YOU THINK YOU WERE NEVER LOVED?!" The shout was echoed over the entire shop, and Caelum is momentarily glad that there is no one else in attendance. "Are you so narrow-minded you cannot see everything your parents did for you? We are not elves, we are not subjected to cruelty from our rulers. Your parents are Winter, yes; but Winter provides the necessities for Spring to Flourish. And just that, your parents were willing to let you do as you needed, to flourish. They may not be the most demonstrative, but do not once assume that they never loved you! Your mother wept when you ran. Your father fretted daily on your welfare. Both their love, their knowledge that this was how you would need to grow; kept them supporting you, even as you ran. It meant they wouldn't corral you. They would let you see the world, let you learn about who you were, and when you would be ready - you would be welcomed home. And I ruined it all, through my actions. You see yourself a pawn for their court. But their court was a pawn they were preparing you to learn to weild." She argued, even as she felt her heart reach for her cousin, begging for a reconciliation. For Syn to understand.

Talking to a wall indeed.

And then, like ice through her veins, her muzzle parts as her cousin would dare to . . . . "I see." The response was quiet, a deadly quiet as she stared hard at her cousin. "I left . . . and forgot about you. How foolish to assume my darkest days were little compared to your need of attention." The words were spat across the distance, ice and poison tainting the soft, quiet speech, "How foolish that my parents would send me away to heal, least the world lose me to the darkness I had embraced upon Arson's death." Her gaze hardened further, "How foolish to assume the bodies I have had to bury, one after another; all my life; would ever compare to your cursed existence. Have you ever considered you are cursed against loved because you cannot love yourself. You must blame others because you don't want to be more than a label. Tell me, Cousin . . . if you are the cold, cruel and uncaring child of winter -- What should that make me? The deadly heat of summer, burning, and causing disfigurement? If we are embracing stereotypes. Shall start spiking the tea in my shop with fruit of our homelands. Shall I begin collecting names. Shall I began collecting thanks. Shall I become the fae of summer. Manipulative, Self-Serving, and disguising it with the idea of 'fun.' Shall I throw parties and never let those of Novus leave - force them to dance for my own entertainment. Your forgot. The Winter Court isn't the court that was feared. It was Us. It was Summer who burned the world."

Caelum had fallen, had turned towards her cousin, towards the one who could chase her pain away. Had clung to her . . . until she had said those words. And it was in desperate need that she pulled away. Standing up, turning away - moving to her counter tops, moving for space. She needed the space, she needed to realize just how soured her cousin's heart was at this time. And could she really judge her for hurting - of course not. But what about her pain? What about everything Caelum was forced to embrace, and endure?

She didn't want to touch her cousin at the moment. Didn't want to look at her. Those words ringing in her head. That everything she felt, everything she would experienced was so weak compared to what Syn felt she was deserved. "You think I should blame you for breaking a promise? Do you know what kept me moving each day? Do you know what made some of those horrible nights easier? You never left me. It was memories of you that would chase the dark. To know, as I was living in another world, another kingdom to get better; that my cousin would never judge me for giving into the dark moments of pain. Memories of you and your never failing acceptance kept me moving. And yet, I learn I'm nothing more than a pretty doll for you to worship and base your own failures off of. Is that all I am to you? A far-to-reach 'ideal' of a princess in white, with a painted-on smile. Crying on the inside, but it doesn't matter, because I look pretty. I smile pretty. I can act pretty. And perfect. And soft. A lovely." Caelum spun back around. "My mirrors in this home are shattered and covered, because I can't stand my own reflection. I can't stand to see the mare staring back at me. I hate her. And you want to place her on a pedestal of grand design, and ignore the suffering I hold in my heart?"

She had pulled away from her cousin's embrace, walked away from the pain.

She doesn't look at her cousin as she's told that she should not hold the blame, to which Caelum spun around, "And of your own blame? Can you let go of yours?" The summer child demands to know. But the knowledge that Syn didn't even want the afterlife of warmth had Caelum's eyes narrowing; realizing what she was saying. "You think none would mourn your passing? You think none would wait for you in the great beyond. Are you truly that blind to those around you?" Caelum's voice was a whisper, "My brother and I would be overcome with grief." She argues. "Even now I cannot deny my parents held a soft spot in their hearts for your brand of chaos - my mother particularly." She argues. "Why are you so determined to only flirt misery? Why are you determined to lay with pain and regret?" Caelum leaned heavy against her counter, distracting herself with the small pastries on display.

"I don't even know what to say to you anymore." She finally admits.

Her gaze lifts, "I'm not certain you would listen, if I try."


"Speech"
Thoughts
@Absynthe
Notes:

art by bingo