icarus and the sun / deaths

[stella]

[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 550px; min-height: 9px; font-family: arial; line-height: 109%; text-align: left; padding: 20px;font-size: 12px;"]'play elsewhere'

why was pater being so cold? the heavenly child did hold up a front of calm collectiveness, someone capable of being strong when it counted, but at such young age this perceived "maturity" was merely a ruse. a facade. when for the nth time stella had been told to stay away from her pater's abode, a pang of pain struck the cloaked child's heart - lavender eyes dimming in disappointment before obediently obeying her pater's word. stella kept her distance, kept herself away and brooded in every moment of it.

pater knew best, all of her fathers knew what was for the best and stella guessed that she should just accept what they say until she knew better, just like the teachings of the lord. but that was also just so hard. as beige paws fumbled around with books kept clean and free of dust, their words almost untouched and never-fading the pitch black ink, the child wondered just how long their papa could kept up this cold charade. was he planning something pleasant for the children? something that they couldn't know of yet? it would explain the odd occurrences, the jitteriness, the secrecy of it all. the more the hybrid child let these thoughts wander and grow into every nook and cranny of her mind - the more stella was put at ease, their paws shaking less and less with pages flipped less forcefully. sinful excitement built up in the child's core.

---

clamour filled coffee-hues ears, upturned, alert to the sudden uproar of voices all familiar but filled with a certain emotion never before experienced. well, almost - it was kind of similar to that time caesar had attacked stella and eli, but different. almost more calm. what on god's earth had happened to cause such a fuss? should stella go to investigate? paws clenched on tighter to the book beneath stella's arms, skin underneath turning a pale shade of white in the sheer tension of it as the child debated intensely on the matter. something unearthly was warning stella, like sirens blaring loudly for the child to be wary. perhaps it was just the fear of being attacked once again. then on the other hand stella was drawn to the chaos, she knew it was her duty to be there. how? the angellic child wasn't quite sure herself either really. she just knew.

edging ever closer to the source of the voices, lavender gaze peeked the sight of four individuals with a look of dismay evident on the child's visage. so much noise, all outside of pater's home. they were interrupting his important work! two stella recognised as pincher's children, the royalty of the clan, masie as one of owens feral raptors, and the forth - kaisa. what was she doing here? she appeared to be distressed - why? surging through her veins, adrenaline caused stella's fur to rise and their legs to become weak and wobbly in the face of kaisa's expression. so distraught. was pater okay? he had to be, he was an angel. a powerful being, far above mortals and mortal hybrids alike, if pater wasn't okay then he would be soon. the father wouldn't abandon him so suddenly - stella had faith.

pushing forth, stella came up behind the form of kai with her gaze in the state of a mixed bag of emotions all vaguely worried and scared as legs unstable followed kaisa's path. it was odd to see the typically quiet child so full of emotion. "kai? why do you shout?" fear seeped into stella's words, even though she tried arduously to maintain a composed form and keep anyone from ever getting the hint that stella felt like she was way over her head, it still infected her speech. her movements. her legs, her eyes, her everything now screaming at stella to be afraid simply for the reason that kaisa was.

craning her neck, stella eyes finally were able to move around the taller three individuals surrounding the house, lavender hues trying to focus on the things of which had elicited emotions so raw in kai, stella trying to figure out why. part of stella wishes she didn't. then another part of the child berated the former and shut that part up for good.

"papa and dad aren't dead. papa's an angel and dad's a demon, they aren't dead." chuckling in midst of words so defiant and needlessly aggressive, stella chuckled because she knew - angels and demons could not die. that was silly. that was absurd! how silly and idiotic anyone would have to be to think that these beings that outclassed mortals by a factor unheard of could simply just die? the original sin, the bite of an apple, that was the thing that separated angels and fallen angels from mortal beings. death was just atonement for that sin. why would pater and dad have to atone for mortal's behaviour? their sin, their idiocy, their everything! why were mortals so selfish? selfish things. things, that was what they were. unworthy of god's love and image.

but it was fine. because pater and dad were alive and nothing was wrong. "so.. so, so.. so just stop acting like they are! that's highly rude of you guys!" nothing was held back now. no facade left in stella, no charades. anger spewed from the child's mouth, lavender eyes focused frustratedly at peppino and goldenluxury like a flame burned within them that was fueled by their thoughts and actions, grieving for two individuals not lost the world yet. how dare they.

[elijah]

[div style="margin: 0 auto; border-width:0; width: 70%; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; line-height: 1.5; font-size: 9pt;"]Innocence is like a jewel. Beautiful, mesmerizing, but fading over time. Gracefully, naturally: innocence will chip away. Star dust glistens in a pitiful heap, remnants sparkling until end game. Jewels, however, are fragile too. Eternity refuses to bestow herself upon the beauty of innocence. The youth of childhood can be engulfed by brutalities, vanished and erased if not taken care of. Within only two weeks, Elijah has witnessed a whirlpool of horrors and tragedies – aspects of life that a child should not have been subjected to. Memories come in heart beats, the soundlessness of his working organ, materializing like a silent film. Moments are touched with grey, feelings are clouded and strangled.  He is a broken boy, clockwork stiffens him. His eyes have witnessed what should not be seen. His heart remembers them all through the static of his inner workings, the contrasting glow of royal blood through the darkness. Droplets rain past his vision, sizzle to the ground as he recalls the glint of claws, the murderous intent in the eyes of his Marcellus and Luca. Evil seeps into earthly soils, grief is present over mourning faces, pain capsizes his sense of dissonance. Rhythm breaks, music becomes silence. Sometimes wonderland will cloud his glass-like eyes, lovingly draw his attention away. A glimmer of a giggle, a master escapist. He folds his memories into shape, turns them into cranes in hope that they will spread their wings and take flight, soar away to terrorize new lands. There is no room for pain within his perfect world, the universe his soul had yearned for and idealized, the creation of his desires.

And yet retribution is a double-edged blade. There is malevolence behind his ignorance, his refusal to accept the true intentions of his shifting, turning world. The earth is wounded, crying for her salvation, and a pool of sanguine forms around him. He doesn’t hear her screams, ears closed to the wretched sounds, an inaudible hum becomes the epitome of his sins. The thoughts come in haunting. They buzz like a hive of bees, flashing like the headlights of a car screeching towards him. Face peeled back that heavy scarlet drips towards ivory teeth, canines sharp and overwhelming. The appearance of a skull, drawn away, no eyes to be seen. Where were the eyes, where had they gone? Unforgiveable sights, a looming isolation dawns upon him. Without realizing it, a heavenly punishment has struck the young boy whose ears remain deaf to the chaos, the spilling sins that should not have been witnessed. Loneliness fills his emptiness. Elijah should not have seen the unforgiveable. It is the results of his nosiness, his naivety to the darkness that engulfs and consumes without end. Towers crumble but the lonely prince…the stubborn prince…persists. Elijah continues to smile with a brimming sense of optimism, ignoring the poison that spreads within his sacred temple, the toxins that continue to creep and corrupt. It is the kind that still lets him breathe, still keeps him alive, but leaves him alone. He breathes as a single entity, lives as a single soul. He is who he is, he is himself. He is…alone.

The boy sucks in a harsh breath, lungs shuddering at the invitation of cold air. His blue eyes waft over the fragments of a broken seashell, tossed aside in a childish tantrum. Pieces are scattered across his floor, sharp edges merely glint within sunlight, a pitiful and damaged form. Frustrations manifest in ugly, tormented ways. While the action itself appears to hold little weight, it was not what the gods had intended of Elijah. His jewel was a diamond. Durable, charming, vulnerable. Shattered and lost that the destruction of his gems leaves only the glitter of remnants, the light of his life. There is wonder that breathes within him, hope that carries him forward, love that holds him close to his family. And yet part of his wonder has become spoilt, his hope has become tainted with a fatal black.

“Did you know that if you put your ear close up to a seashell, you can hear the ocean?”

He is deaf to the ocean’s waves, the sound of air passing through the hollow contents of the shell because he does not know what to look out for. He hears nothing against his ear, an undead muteness from the other side that Elijah had screamed and destroyed the shell - the shell that had done nothing wrong. He was sick of all these lies, he wanted to focus only on the wonder, the beauty of the world around him. He would rather he had... Mama, let’s -… “Play,” Elijah rasps aloud, pressing his head against the door of Junji’s home. He was not supposed to be visiting, attempting to poke around like a rodent. And yet, after moments of silence, eyes vacantly staring at the wood, he finally turns around and leaves with a heavy heart. Instead of walking down to the beach, bitter by the soundlessness of waves, he vanishes into the rainforest with his rats. Elijah has taught his units a few tricks, similar to how a human would train a dog. He had wanted to show mama what he had been up to with his rats, rather proud of his progress, thinking that he would be able to make mama smile and laugh. His favourite one, of course, was the one where his rats would play dead. It worked in a simple manner: the boy raises his wing, flicks it in a motion that resembles shooting a gun, and watches all the rats flop to the ground pretending to have been shot. As Junji was no longer soothsayer, he wanted to show it to him thinking he wasn’t as busy as he used to be. But mama didn't want to be disturbed. He considered for a moment to find Luca, his papa, but he’s noticed that his father wasn’t particularly comfortable with him (of course, he was unaware that Luca was afraid of rats).

Funnily enough, the door that used to cover the outside world from him was now a door that stopped him from seeing mama. He doesn't understand. What had he done wrong? Did mama resent him? Did he disappoint him?

Ah, there they were. There were those feelings again. The sensation as if he were drowning, suffocating within a weightless mass, floating and yet struck with a heavy feeling. It grows on him, sits across his shoulders, holds his head down as if he were imprisoned. He can’t pinpoint the exact feelings, unsure if he wanted to cry or scream but they were there: looming over his frail body. It was another one of those complex emotions Elijah could not comprehend, was unsure how to express. It oozes, thick and heavy, working like a substance that has blocked his arteries. He can’t stand the emotions, wishes he could let them freeze over and stop. Leaves begin to rustle around him, shifting as though they had a mind of their own. Elijah gasps for a breath, counting down slowly in his head as he tries to pull himself back to to earth, remind himself of gravity. His body quivers as the rats surround him, all contributing to an unwelcomed choir of noise. Awful, overwhelming sound. Chitters, murmurs, loudness. It screeches and roars until finally, finally, finally…finally…he lowers his body and blocks his ears, shutting his eyes and begging for silence. When he draws his paws away, no sound can be heard through his ears, he has closed himself off from his surroundings. He is ignorant again. His ears, as he has willed it, refuse to listen to the concern of his company. They are an extension of his being, his will and his desires, and yet they fail to act as true companions, fail to fill the gaping whole that loneliness consumed. They are merely rats, after all, following him no matter what. While they take care of him, he knows it is not the same as a mother or father’s love. With his current age, love is what he needs most.

He must have been so selfish to think that Junji’s words were directed towards him, to think that mother didn’t want him to be near, that he was being a burden. He wonders if it is his fault that the angel had stepped down, pressing a paw against his chest as if in attempt to feel his own heart beats. There is nothing. There is no beating sensation beneath his skin. He considers trying to look for papa again. He is too stressed in the idea of attempting to grasp Junji’s attention once more, unaware that mother was dying and writhing in a pain unknown to him. His throat feels as though it is burning, as if it has become a pit of molten rock, toxicity swelling at the base of his neck. It hurt but nothing like what mama was going through, nothing like what papa was going through. Elijah feels his body freeze up in hesitation, a black bird fluttering before his vision. It stares at him and his rats and Elijah locks eye contact in return, wings raised in a defensive manner. And yet something about the dark- feathered avian feels ethereal, spectral and unreal, like a foggy manifestation – a bad omen. Something told him not to look, not to follow where the creature was trying to take him. It was screaming for attention and it wasn’t until Elijah realized where the bird was trying to take him that he felt his blood drain from his face, an iciness nipping at his fur.

What follows were only pictures, images dancing in front of him, the sight of tears and agony. Something out there must have been punishing him for his ignorance. He can’t even hear his sister’s cries, the expulsion of emotions that erupted from her panic, the desperation. Then his eyes recognize the two figures covered in sickly tar, the thick substance that rolls over their bodies. “Mama…” he begins, nausea filling his lungs, “…papa.” No other words leave him, eyes wide but vision blurring. He doesn’t tremble any more than he has already, doesn’t shed a tear. His eyes are too dry for crying and air has left him, refusing to let him scream. The sensations coil and tremor along his body. He knows they aren’t…dead. They can’t be. Their blood is immortal, immortal, immortal. Words continue to cycle his head, some letters failing to take shape that they are indecipherable. All he is left with are feelings, feelings and sensations he cannot begin to interpret. Emotions that leave him frustrated because he cannot even begin to categorise them. “Wh-why… how… how did... mama a-and papa…?” The appearance of tar is sickening, revolting, horrifying. It’s as if he has forgotten how to breathe, lungs suffocating within the poison of grief, eyes refusing to leave the sight of Junji and Luca. They still -…they still have papi. Marcellus. Marcellus. Of course, Marcellus. But where is papi? Where is he to share in their torment, their tears, their discov -…

Not a discovery. There is no wonder in what his eyes have witnessed, what they have seen. He wants to claw them out, stop himself from witnessing event after event. Maybe if he had been a better son, mama and papa wouldn’t have died. He should have checked Junji’s home, forced himself inside ages ago, he should have been there. He could have helped somehow. He should have...- He doesn’t know of the corruption that had defeated his mother, but hope continues to linger in ways that torture him, it continues to drag on for a painful eternity. Possibilities continue to fly through his head, exist because he was still foolish enough to hold onto his faith in hope. If he had just forced himself home he could have… he should have… “I-Is this our fault?” he manages to ask aloud, voice still weak but suddenly audible to the ones around him. And yet, regardless of anyone’s reply, his ears continue to register no sound. The world is muted around him, the boy unable to hear the words of the ones around him. If mama hadn’t been so busy then maybe… Elijah shuts his eyes, inhaling a sharp breath. “Why did it even have to happen? Is God punishing mama? Papa? U-Us?” He drops his head back, staring into the clouds that lingered through the skies. His lips quiver. “Will they forget about us?”

[Eris]

Death was an odd concept to Eris. He saw it often, when he killed a moth or a mouse, but he never paused to take it in, that a tiny life had been eliminated. He was too busy doing some living of his own. If he had witnessed anything bigger than a rabbit die before, he might have understood death better. But it didn't seem like a real thing. It seemed impossible. Not something to worry about. It wasn't like Eris would die anytime soon, or anyone close to him. He pushed the very thought out of his head when it popped in there. That could be the reason for why Eris had never considered that his parents might die. The possibility of Junji's dismissive behavior being because of a disease briefly crossed his mind, but other possibilities came swirling after it; Junji was working on a big project of some kind and just didn't want to be bothered, Junji was exhausted for some reason and needed to nap for a while, or he was tired of him playing around and with him. All on the verge of impossibility, but Eris was grasping for some reason for Junji to be sending Eris and his siblings away every time they tried to see him. Whatever it was, Eris was sure that things would go back to normal soon. He would get done with the project, he would catch up on sleep, he would remember it was fun to play with them, he would get better if he was sick.

Right? Wrong.

Good luck made Eris not the first one on the scene. He had been prowling nearby, trying to find something anything interesting going on, when he realized he wasn't far from Junji's hut. He suspected he would be turned away once more by the white feline, but what if this was finally the time he wasn't? Eris headed toward the home, and that was when he heard Goldenluxury. Her voice was familiar but not warmly so; he knew her as the quartermaster only, but that was fine. Only her words mattered.

"Junji and Luca... need help!"

That was enough for Eris to start running. Then, there were more voices. More horrified voices. Something was wrong. Eris's legs were still short with childhood and too slow for his liking, even when he didn't need to get somewhere quickly. He cursed them as he flew over the shorter and shorter distance to the hut. Eris's stop was so sharp that it was a miracle the kitten didn't fall over. He swung around, skittering to stand beside his siblings. His ears only heard bits and pieces of what his brother was saying. Eris was so focused in on the two bodies.

The dark puddle around them was disgusting. Tar-like. It didn't look only like blood. Something else? He didn't have time to think about that. Pink-tinted eyes swept over Luca and Junji a few times before he could speak. "No." Like Stella, he uttered that word, full of denial. Whatever was going on wasn't real. He thought he could identify dead things, but Eris doubted himself there. He doubted everyone. If they would just wait a second, his fathers would get up and laugh and say it was a cruel joke, and Eris would never forgive them, but they would be alive. Stella was right- they weren't regular mortals. They were an angel and demon. Eris had thought part of the point of being one was to be immortal.

Apparently not.

"no, no, no, no, no!" eris babbled quickly, shaking his head. "no, no, no!" he surged forward, recoiling momentarily when he felt the tar-like substance touch his paws. he continued on, skittering over to stand near his parents. what had been his parents. "get up! get up!" he touched junji's body with a soaked paw, further sullying his once-pristine fur. "get up... they're not dead." he snapped, in case anyone had been thinking otherwise.

he knew, in his heart, that they were dead. when he touched junji, he had felt it. his denial was temporary; within a few days, he would come to accept it, grudgingly and with rage and sadness. for now, eris paused, brow furrowed and eyes shiny, and fell silent, shaky and unsure.