Caelum
it's all been done before and if you could only let it be
She felt odd, almost disjointed from reality.
Her gaze jumped up when her friend spoke more firmly, blinking slightly in surprise at the tone. Wither away? Was that what she was doing? "I apologize, I do not mean to worry you." The whispered sentence was delivered almost stately, rehearsed even; but she drew the food closer, and began to nibble on it with more earnest-ness, if only to get her friend to do the talking, to distract her. To settle her mind enough that she could begin to properly process the mess of emotions and memories talking to Syn had dug up.
She listened quietly, surprised at the knowledge of a sister.
But she supposed it was proof that there was still a lot that neither know about each other. A lot they still had to learn. Sure, Luvena was her closet friend, but they were both private individuals, and Caelum was only just beginning to learn to let down her walls for Luvena to see the fae she was at her very core. So she took the new knowledge in stride, merely letting it soak in as she ate small bite after small bite.
Somewhere along the line, she'd forgotten she was eating at all.
And so Luvena spoke, of one named Io, how she was the only family for years. Always there, loving her, and then she noticed the slight shine to her friend's eyes, before she spoke again - of her sister ruining her. Of leaving her, as she was beginning to heal - just leaving, and then everything fell apart. Caelum had stopped eating, and somewhere deep in her gut, she felt it twist. Was this what Regal thought when he imagined her. The wayward sister who destroyed the kingdom, ruined everything they had both grown up loving. Trapping him behind the barrier protecting, isolating, the Winter Court from the rest of the world. Trapped. Stuck. Did he speak of her like this.
She didn't get long to feel the icy breath of fear, before she was distracted again.
This time by the tears sliding down her cheeks, and suddenly Caelum was on her feet, pushing herself towards her friend. She reached for her but then paused, knowing that sometimes you need to get it out before you could be comforted. So instead she stood by her, a steady presence to keep her grounded while she spoke of watching her sister die, of sobbing over the body, the bonded slip away. And now she was back. And Caelum was rooted to the spot, unsure of how to respond, unsure of how to help, how to aid.
So instead she let her action speak for her.
She turned back to her friend, clinging to her tightly, hugging her close to her side, even as Caelum felt those emotions compiling inside her, clogging her up from the core, putting her in a chokehold as she felt herself starting to shut down emotionally, to close it all off, all out, to focus on Luvena . . . No . . . . Lu wouldn't want her to do that, that wasn't healing, not what they were trying to accomplish together. So Caelum drew away again, slowly laying back down, her gaze on the half gone food and she suddenly felt like weight was hanging in her stomach, churning the bile that made her want to curl up in a ball.
To hide away from how ill all of this was making her feel inside.
"I cannot imagine . . . what that must be like." She whispered, though the words were hollow, because it hadn't been her sister she had watched died, cried over the body. She could still remember the way the light in those vibrant red eyes had faded into dullness, like a crystal losing its spark, a fire dying into an ember and then turning black. She remembered the violent cry that had torn from her throat like a banshee when his side went still, his lungs never to fill again. She remembered throwing herself at him, ignoring those they were fighting against, remembered clinging to him, begging him to get up. She remembered ignoring the feel of ropes, of chains, of being subdued, as she clung to his form, as she tried to bury herself beneath the still bat-like wings. As she begged for someone, anyone to give him back to her.
She remembered them pulling her away as she fought to return to his side.
Losing Tremaine had been where the trauma really started. And it was all in the forefront of her mind after speaking with Syn. It was brought back to the front of her mind when she heard Lu speak. And even now she couldn't shake the memories from her mind, the image of him sinking to the ground, his red eyes desperate, as he tried to talk, blood pooling around him, sizzling slightly as the slightly acidic liquid dripped to the floor. Watching his fight fade, his light dim, the way he had begged her to run, even as she ran towards him instead, desperately begging him to be okay. Praying he'd jump up, his crooked smirk, and infectious laughter on his features as he apologized for scaring her again.
But he didn't get back up. He didn't laugh, or apologize.
He remained still, cold, empty. And she'd taken that cold and emptiness inside herself. And now, as the tears fell down her cheeks, staring at Luvena, she felt that emptiness, that iciness starting to melt, "My cousin, Absynthe; she . . . showed up. Out of nowhere. She . . . She hadn't seen me . . . not since Arson passed away . . . She was . . ." A weak laugh bubbled from her throat, "She was afraid to say Arson's name . . . " The laugh faded, and her gaze turned hollow, directed inwards, "She didn't . . . know about anything . . . anything that had happened. Not about . . . . not about Convallis, or about what happened to the Summer Court, or that her Court, the Winter Court; was now locked behind a barrier, and unreachable . . ." Her gaze lowered, and her heart thudded against her chest, "And she didn't know . . . about Tremaine."
Caelum's gaze slowly lifted to Lu, her expression breaking as she did so.
"Lu . . . I had to tell her . . . everything. And it hurt. So much. To face it all, to tell the whole story . . . all in one go. I just . . it . . . I don't even . . ." The fuzziness was returning, as she seemed to shake slightly, "It's like I shut down . . . to keep from facing what I was telling her . . . to acknowledge her reaction. It just . . . it hurt. To have to . . . relive it all. But . . . Syn needed to know . . . And . . " Caelum took a shaky, but deep breath in, "But . . . it was realizing . . . that he wasn't coming back. No begging, no keeping his name buried in heart would . . . would bring Trey back to me. Just like Convallis . . . I don't get a second chance with him." She shook her head, white strands flying through the air with the force as she fought to clear her head.
"I realized . . . I have to let him go."
If she wanted to be happy again, letting go of that desire for Tremaine to be alive again . . .
it had to be step number one.
"Speech"
Thoughts
@Luvena
Notes: She's not okay . . . .
Her gaze jumped up when her friend spoke more firmly, blinking slightly in surprise at the tone. Wither away? Was that what she was doing? "I apologize, I do not mean to worry you." The whispered sentence was delivered almost stately, rehearsed even; but she drew the food closer, and began to nibble on it with more earnest-ness, if only to get her friend to do the talking, to distract her. To settle her mind enough that she could begin to properly process the mess of emotions and memories talking to Syn had dug up.
She listened quietly, surprised at the knowledge of a sister.
But she supposed it was proof that there was still a lot that neither know about each other. A lot they still had to learn. Sure, Luvena was her closet friend, but they were both private individuals, and Caelum was only just beginning to learn to let down her walls for Luvena to see the fae she was at her very core. So she took the new knowledge in stride, merely letting it soak in as she ate small bite after small bite.
Somewhere along the line, she'd forgotten she was eating at all.
And so Luvena spoke, of one named Io, how she was the only family for years. Always there, loving her, and then she noticed the slight shine to her friend's eyes, before she spoke again - of her sister ruining her. Of leaving her, as she was beginning to heal - just leaving, and then everything fell apart. Caelum had stopped eating, and somewhere deep in her gut, she felt it twist. Was this what Regal thought when he imagined her. The wayward sister who destroyed the kingdom, ruined everything they had both grown up loving. Trapping him behind the barrier protecting, isolating, the Winter Court from the rest of the world. Trapped. Stuck. Did he speak of her like this.
She didn't get long to feel the icy breath of fear, before she was distracted again.
This time by the tears sliding down her cheeks, and suddenly Caelum was on her feet, pushing herself towards her friend. She reached for her but then paused, knowing that sometimes you need to get it out before you could be comforted. So instead she stood by her, a steady presence to keep her grounded while she spoke of watching her sister die, of sobbing over the body, the bonded slip away. And now she was back. And Caelum was rooted to the spot, unsure of how to respond, unsure of how to help, how to aid.
So instead she let her action speak for her.
She turned back to her friend, clinging to her tightly, hugging her close to her side, even as Caelum felt those emotions compiling inside her, clogging her up from the core, putting her in a chokehold as she felt herself starting to shut down emotionally, to close it all off, all out, to focus on Luvena . . . No . . . . Lu wouldn't want her to do that, that wasn't healing, not what they were trying to accomplish together. So Caelum drew away again, slowly laying back down, her gaze on the half gone food and she suddenly felt like weight was hanging in her stomach, churning the bile that made her want to curl up in a ball.
To hide away from how ill all of this was making her feel inside.
"I cannot imagine . . . what that must be like." She whispered, though the words were hollow, because it hadn't been her sister she had watched died, cried over the body. She could still remember the way the light in those vibrant red eyes had faded into dullness, like a crystal losing its spark, a fire dying into an ember and then turning black. She remembered the violent cry that had torn from her throat like a banshee when his side went still, his lungs never to fill again. She remembered throwing herself at him, ignoring those they were fighting against, remembered clinging to him, begging him to get up. She remembered ignoring the feel of ropes, of chains, of being subdued, as she clung to his form, as she tried to bury herself beneath the still bat-like wings. As she begged for someone, anyone to give him back to her.
She remembered them pulling her away as she fought to return to his side.
Losing Tremaine had been where the trauma really started. And it was all in the forefront of her mind after speaking with Syn. It was brought back to the front of her mind when she heard Lu speak. And even now she couldn't shake the memories from her mind, the image of him sinking to the ground, his red eyes desperate, as he tried to talk, blood pooling around him, sizzling slightly as the slightly acidic liquid dripped to the floor. Watching his fight fade, his light dim, the way he had begged her to run, even as she ran towards him instead, desperately begging him to be okay. Praying he'd jump up, his crooked smirk, and infectious laughter on his features as he apologized for scaring her again.
But he didn't get back up. He didn't laugh, or apologize.
He remained still, cold, empty. And she'd taken that cold and emptiness inside herself. And now, as the tears fell down her cheeks, staring at Luvena, she felt that emptiness, that iciness starting to melt, "My cousin, Absynthe; she . . . showed up. Out of nowhere. She . . . She hadn't seen me . . . not since Arson passed away . . . She was . . ." A weak laugh bubbled from her throat, "She was afraid to say Arson's name . . . " The laugh faded, and her gaze turned hollow, directed inwards, "She didn't . . . know about anything . . . anything that had happened. Not about . . . . not about Convallis, or about what happened to the Summer Court, or that her Court, the Winter Court; was now locked behind a barrier, and unreachable . . ." Her gaze lowered, and her heart thudded against her chest, "And she didn't know . . . about Tremaine."
Caelum's gaze slowly lifted to Lu, her expression breaking as she did so.
"Lu . . . I had to tell her . . . everything. And it hurt. So much. To face it all, to tell the whole story . . . all in one go. I just . . it . . . I don't even . . ." The fuzziness was returning, as she seemed to shake slightly, "It's like I shut down . . . to keep from facing what I was telling her . . . to acknowledge her reaction. It just . . . it hurt. To have to . . . relive it all. But . . . Syn needed to know . . . And . . " Caelum took a shaky, but deep breath in, "But . . . it was realizing . . . that he wasn't coming back. No begging, no keeping his name buried in heart would . . . would bring Trey back to me. Just like Convallis . . . I don't get a second chance with him." She shook her head, white strands flying through the air with the force as she fought to clear her head.
"I realized . . . I have to let him go."
If she wanted to be happy again, letting go of that desire for Tremaine to be alive again . . .
it had to be step number one.
"Speech"
Thoughts
@Luvena
Notes: She's not okay . . . .
when we're drivin' in your car, and you're talkin' to me one-on-one
