Caelum
throw on your dress and put on your doll faces
everyone thinks that we're perfect
please don't let them look through the curtains
When had the time passed?
It felt like it'd been an inexcusable amount of time since she'd last left Denocte. Sure, she was building a home and business, and she was needed to be there to make sure that went well - she was the one literally building it after all. But . . . when had she become such a home body? When had she let herself hide away . . . hide away, was that really what she had been doing? We're always hiding, of course that's what We were doing. Why wouldn't We hide. Hide from the past. Hide from the pain. Hide from the weakness. Weak . . . . Her eyes closed momentarily, when had she started to feel weak? When had she started to dislike these attributes, no . . . when had these attributes began to grow, to appear, to become so strong within her. When had she let herself become less than she was. Oh, if her parents were watching her now, she could only imagine what they would have to say, Stand straighter, be proud. You are Our heir, you are Our future. Don't slouch, don't dismay. Be strong, be proud, be who We raised you to be. Her father's voice would be echoing, loud and carrying, the entire valley would likely be able to hear it. From Denocte all the way to Delumine. He had that way about him. When he spoke, everyone turned to listen.
He had been a powerful force.
The exact opposite of her dainty mother. But where her father was loud and proud, her mother had been silent but strong. It was her words that often kept Caelum on the straight and narrow. It was her snippets of wisdom Caelum refused to let go off. Raise your head, even when you feel like the world is crumbling around, keep stepping forward. Don't try to outrun the fall out, instead climb out of it. When they think they have struck you down to the ground, go for their ankles. We mares are so often more than expected, but only when we keep our wits, and we remind them why the fairer sex isn't necessarily the nicer sex. Remember, child, the female fae are also the most mischevious. Her mother would always laugh quietly, wink at her daughter as if it was some great secret, even as her father would sputter over such nonsense, outraged that her mother would encourage her to act up, act out.
Father liked decorum, Mother liked surprising others.
Caelum had merged their two styles. She was proud and strong as her father, but aimed to surprise others with her strength. She'd let people kick her down, all the while plotting so that when the pushed her into just the right position, she would cause the most damage from there. But like her mother, she didn't wound with actions, she cut down with words, with politics, with the societal grace of a lady in power. A queen . . . A broken queen, A queen of nothing but ruin and despair. Some queen you are. You've killed your parents, your people, your kingdom . . . your child. That inner voice broke off, sudden, quick, realizing she'd pushed herself too far. That was a forbidden topic, even for herself. She didn't touch that, she didn't think on that. Few days did she dwell on her beloved child, her sweet Convallis.
He was her bright light.
And his memory kept her heart, her mind shielded from the darkest regret that plagued her worse than even Convallis. Where her heart, her love as a mother kept her mourning her own child . . . the Caelum of the past, the Caelum she stopped being before she met Calico, before she birthed Convallis, stayed in a state of mourning over the one being that had made her whole. His name was rarely whispered. His shadowed form haunted her nights, his laughing eyes, fang-split smirk that promised her fun, excitement, love for the rest of her life. The scream for her to get to safety, to leave him, to survive echoed in her heart, in her head, on those sleepless nights. She'd ignored those requests, she'd fought at his side. He'd died, she'd been enslaved. And that younger Caelum, the one who had been her purest self, had died with him.
She hadn't been the same after that.
And when Convallis passed as well, she understood the truth. She didn't deserve happiness. She brought only death and destruction to those she loved. She kept others at a distance now, her heart stone cold to keep herself from making that deadly mistake again. Love? Ha. She'd rather be alone. Of course, she had friends who had weaseled their way in, but she was cautious even with them. Coyotl she saw only when they crossed paths, she didn't let him seek her out - she didn't seek him out. Lu was a companion when healing was needed, or for a random tea date to catch up once in a blue moon, but even she was kept from truly being part of Caelum's heart. She didn't let others in anymore.
Why when it would only hurt them.
Hurt her.
Her thoughts were spiralling, and it forced her wings to stop as she hovered in the air, shaking her head. White clouded her gaze, the ivory tresses dancing against the sky as she fought every emotion down, buried it deep in her chest, locked in a box, buried under barbwire. Not healthy, no. But Caelum knew unleashing that darkness, working through it would destroy her. She couldn't do it . . . not alone. And she wouldn't let another get close enough to help, to assist, to heal. She was fine the way she was anyway. She was still moving, still alive. She hadn't lost the will to survive. So why dig up what would hurt. It was easier to ignore it. Easier for her to paint on the smile. A picture perfect doll to place on the shelf, a painted smile, and wooden gaze. Closed off, but pretending that everything was okay.
No one needed to know it was a sham.
Resettled, her picture perfect facade back into face, a practiced smile that no longer looked fake after testing it with her reflection over and over again until she got it right, her wings fluttered once more, fairy dust trailing behind her like a trail of faint, iridescent glitter. The moonlight streamed down, casting her blue-roaned hue almost silver, washing out her hair to a shining ivory, as rich, as bright as the moon itself. Calm. Quiet. Dead. Much like herself inside. She didn't know where she was going, she didn't really care. In the end, she would go back home, she would curl up alone, and she'd wake up to repeat it. Lonely, always so lonely. The perfect picture of aristocracy, a princess who locked the door to her tower herself. Because it was easier to be alone. Less painful when you were always lonely. Was it even loneliness anymore when you grow to expect it, to welcome it?
Her gaze fell briefly.
Another was illuminated beneath the glow of the moon, off to the side of the creek she had been following since she'd veered off from Veneror Peak. She paused,, tilting her head curiously, hoovering in the air, before she spoke gently, quietly but respectfully, "Oh, greetings. I was not expecting to come across another while traveling. I hope I have not startled you, I did fly up out of nowhere after all." She lowered herself with a flutter of her wings, delicate hooves touching down on one of the rocks of the creek, water bubbling around her as she balanced carefully, wings out to the side, almost like a dragonfly. The fae tilted her head, the painted on smile that no longer looked fake, the light in the eyes that hid the dark away. A perfect construct, to hide the inner turmoil where no one could reach it, not even herself, "My name is Caelum, a medic of Denocte. Might I inquire your name?"
The perfect facade of a mare with it all together.
Such a joke.
"Speech"
Thoughts
@Creamsicle
Notes: I figured the fae would do well in this thread.
It felt like it'd been an inexcusable amount of time since she'd last left Denocte. Sure, she was building a home and business, and she was needed to be there to make sure that went well - she was the one literally building it after all. But . . . when had she become such a home body? When had she let herself hide away . . . hide away, was that really what she had been doing? We're always hiding, of course that's what We were doing. Why wouldn't We hide. Hide from the past. Hide from the pain. Hide from the weakness. Weak . . . . Her eyes closed momentarily, when had she started to feel weak? When had she started to dislike these attributes, no . . . when had these attributes began to grow, to appear, to become so strong within her. When had she let herself become less than she was. Oh, if her parents were watching her now, she could only imagine what they would have to say, Stand straighter, be proud. You are Our heir, you are Our future. Don't slouch, don't dismay. Be strong, be proud, be who We raised you to be. Her father's voice would be echoing, loud and carrying, the entire valley would likely be able to hear it. From Denocte all the way to Delumine. He had that way about him. When he spoke, everyone turned to listen.
He had been a powerful force.
The exact opposite of her dainty mother. But where her father was loud and proud, her mother had been silent but strong. It was her words that often kept Caelum on the straight and narrow. It was her snippets of wisdom Caelum refused to let go off. Raise your head, even when you feel like the world is crumbling around, keep stepping forward. Don't try to outrun the fall out, instead climb out of it. When they think they have struck you down to the ground, go for their ankles. We mares are so often more than expected, but only when we keep our wits, and we remind them why the fairer sex isn't necessarily the nicer sex. Remember, child, the female fae are also the most mischevious. Her mother would always laugh quietly, wink at her daughter as if it was some great secret, even as her father would sputter over such nonsense, outraged that her mother would encourage her to act up, act out.
Father liked decorum, Mother liked surprising others.
Caelum had merged their two styles. She was proud and strong as her father, but aimed to surprise others with her strength. She'd let people kick her down, all the while plotting so that when the pushed her into just the right position, she would cause the most damage from there. But like her mother, she didn't wound with actions, she cut down with words, with politics, with the societal grace of a lady in power. A queen . . . A broken queen, A queen of nothing but ruin and despair. Some queen you are. You've killed your parents, your people, your kingdom . . . your child. That inner voice broke off, sudden, quick, realizing she'd pushed herself too far. That was a forbidden topic, even for herself. She didn't touch that, she didn't think on that. Few days did she dwell on her beloved child, her sweet Convallis.
He was her bright light.
And his memory kept her heart, her mind shielded from the darkest regret that plagued her worse than even Convallis. Where her heart, her love as a mother kept her mourning her own child . . . the Caelum of the past, the Caelum she stopped being before she met Calico, before she birthed Convallis, stayed in a state of mourning over the one being that had made her whole. His name was rarely whispered. His shadowed form haunted her nights, his laughing eyes, fang-split smirk that promised her fun, excitement, love for the rest of her life. The scream for her to get to safety, to leave him, to survive echoed in her heart, in her head, on those sleepless nights. She'd ignored those requests, she'd fought at his side. He'd died, she'd been enslaved. And that younger Caelum, the one who had been her purest self, had died with him.
She hadn't been the same after that.
And when Convallis passed as well, she understood the truth. She didn't deserve happiness. She brought only death and destruction to those she loved. She kept others at a distance now, her heart stone cold to keep herself from making that deadly mistake again. Love? Ha. She'd rather be alone. Of course, she had friends who had weaseled their way in, but she was cautious even with them. Coyotl she saw only when they crossed paths, she didn't let him seek her out - she didn't seek him out. Lu was a companion when healing was needed, or for a random tea date to catch up once in a blue moon, but even she was kept from truly being part of Caelum's heart. She didn't let others in anymore.
Why when it would only hurt them.
Hurt her.
Her thoughts were spiralling, and it forced her wings to stop as she hovered in the air, shaking her head. White clouded her gaze, the ivory tresses dancing against the sky as she fought every emotion down, buried it deep in her chest, locked in a box, buried under barbwire. Not healthy, no. But Caelum knew unleashing that darkness, working through it would destroy her. She couldn't do it . . . not alone. And she wouldn't let another get close enough to help, to assist, to heal. She was fine the way she was anyway. She was still moving, still alive. She hadn't lost the will to survive. So why dig up what would hurt. It was easier to ignore it. Easier for her to paint on the smile. A picture perfect doll to place on the shelf, a painted smile, and wooden gaze. Closed off, but pretending that everything was okay.
No one needed to know it was a sham.
Resettled, her picture perfect facade back into face, a practiced smile that no longer looked fake after testing it with her reflection over and over again until she got it right, her wings fluttered once more, fairy dust trailing behind her like a trail of faint, iridescent glitter. The moonlight streamed down, casting her blue-roaned hue almost silver, washing out her hair to a shining ivory, as rich, as bright as the moon itself. Calm. Quiet. Dead. Much like herself inside. She didn't know where she was going, she didn't really care. In the end, she would go back home, she would curl up alone, and she'd wake up to repeat it. Lonely, always so lonely. The perfect picture of aristocracy, a princess who locked the door to her tower herself. Because it was easier to be alone. Less painful when you were always lonely. Was it even loneliness anymore when you grow to expect it, to welcome it?
Her gaze fell briefly.
Another was illuminated beneath the glow of the moon, off to the side of the creek she had been following since she'd veered off from Veneror Peak. She paused,, tilting her head curiously, hoovering in the air, before she spoke gently, quietly but respectfully, "Oh, greetings. I was not expecting to come across another while traveling. I hope I have not startled you, I did fly up out of nowhere after all." She lowered herself with a flutter of her wings, delicate hooves touching down on one of the rocks of the creek, water bubbling around her as she balanced carefully, wings out to the side, almost like a dragonfly. The fae tilted her head, the painted on smile that no longer looked fake, the light in the eyes that hid the dark away. A perfect construct, to hide the inner turmoil where no one could reach it, not even herself, "My name is Caelum, a medic of Denocte. Might I inquire your name?"
The perfect facade of a mare with it all together.
Such a joke.
"Speech"
Thoughts
@Creamsicle
Notes: I figured the fae would do well in this thread.
pose with your brother, won't you be a good sister?
everyone thinks that we're perfect
please don't let them look through the curtains
art by bingo
