SALVE | return

[elijah]

[div style="margin: 0 auto; border-width:0; width: 70%; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; line-height: 1.5; font-size: 9pt;"] / all you really need to get from this is that elijah has returned and rings the bell. i haven't written anything in three months so i'm rusty with my flow

It’s difficult to stay around when there are memories that live beneath the soil – memories that are better forgotten. It was haunting. His birthplace had become the precipice of bad memories, twisted and strangled by the coagulation of sickness and misfortune. As far as he was aware, mama and papa were dead. He didn’t even want to begin with unravelling the mystery behind whatever happened to Marcellus, too cowardly to try and learn what fate had been bestowed upon his mortal father. In short, he had ran away with his rats, lived by himself, ate the scavenged scraps his rodents had brought to him. For the first few weeks, he kept his attention towards The Typhoon, mildly aware of his creatures’ discomforts and rising anxieties that another tragedy may befall the entire island. Eventually his own rats fled from their patrols, no longer keeping a steady eye and reporting the events back to him because they knew what would happen. Even then, Elijah chose not to reach out for The Typhoon. Part of him had wholeheartedly detested the idea of going back, loathing the emotions that he knew would undoubtedly wash over him. He would rather drown than face them.

But running away only brought different problems. While he was alone, he encountered a gang of very bad individuals. They were a nameless group terrorising travellers, stealing their belongings, threatening to kill, that Elijah’s heart was touched to stopped them. He wanted to be a hero again, he wanted to feel as if he could make change. Reckless actions, however, always had consequences. He witnessed his rats be slaughtered and when the heathens spotted him, realised that the one controlling the army of critters was in fact him, Elijah yelled to his remaining forces to run away and hide. He was quivering, shaken by the bloodshed of his rats – his only company. They had been so loyal, they hadn’t questioned his rash judgements, and many had lost their lives. They were dead in a matter of seconds, as if their lives had mattered nothing else than to be livestock. His face felt cold when they captured him, hurt him, ridiculed him. The group was inspired by Elijah’s army, trying to persuade the boy to control his rats to overwhelm their bigger targets. Every time he refused, a bigger backlash would form. More violence befell him. They even brought victims to slaughter and torment before him, yelling and swearing that it had been a result of his selfishness.

To his dismay, he also learnt he was immortal to some degree.

During one of his tortures, one of them had gone too far. The child’s weak heart couldn’t take it and he had…died. He didn’t want to come back. He had seen so much suffering that he begun to forget that there were beings of unbreakable essence, beings who would not stay dead for long. He thought he would have inherited his mortal father’s condition, been freed of the shackles of being alive, waiting for the one moment that they pierced a vital. Elijah could not forget the stretching grin from cheek to cheek, the wide and glinting eyes of a sadist who realised that they could keep the boy here with them forever, for all eternity until the day they died. The worst part of the whole experience was the day Elijah had concocted a plan to escape, trying to remember all the conditions and times in which different members would arrive and patrol in his general vicinity. He spoke to his rats carefully, made sure to keep an eye on everyone through the help of Thirteen, but his plan wasn’t perfect. It had been too rushed, too filled with emotions that clouded his better judgement. They caught him and, as punishment, Elijah's right wing was torn from his frail body. They left his other appendage intact, showed it mercy if it weren't for the fact that it now served as a wicked reminder of his ability to fly…now ripped away from him.

Elijah bites his bottom lip, baby-blue eyes wandering towards the ruins of houses that spread along The Typhoon. He had long escaped the clutches of the unnamed group and most of his experiences had turned into a wild blur, suppressed by the fears and anxieties that ate at his perspective, hardening his view of the world in front of him. The panorama of his birthplace was now standing in a foolish glory, ashes dilapidating what had once been a perfect view. He was seven months old now. While he looks about the same (only more mature and bigger in size), the only major difference was his missing right wing which now appeared as a nub covered by a wrapping of clean bandages. As it had been three months since he left, Elijah was noticing the fact that the island's flora now appeared much smaller than he had remembered them, the boy’s eyes encapsulated by the tiny details that laced leaves and petals. Ears twist towards the soft ringing of the familiar gate’s bell, cautiously swinging with the tranquil wind that he moves towards it as if he were possessed by intent. The three rats which happen to be riding upon his back shift uncertainly, sniffing and whispering quietly to themselves until one of the rodents speak up.

Are you sure, young master?

The demiangel smiles warmly at him, stopping right in front of the metal bell. “Certus sum,” he replies with a gentle hum, “Thirteen scouted ahead of us with the third unit. Our bond tells me we’ll...” –he raises his head, squinting at the sky as if it were holding the word he could not seem to remember– “…pervivo.”

Feeling certain of his decision, Elijah rings the bell.

[bubblegum]

[elijah]

[div style="margin: 0 auto; border-width:0; width: 70%; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; line-height: 1.5; font-size: 9pt;"]As far as he is aware, it was God who has forsaken him. He has never even begun to imagine or grow aware that his parents had in fact reincarnated into different lives. Then again, he was better off hating the Heavens than hating his parents. Learning of Luca and Junji's new existences would throw chaos into his understanding of the mortal realm. It would no longer be God who had forsaken him, it would be his parents. A plethora of thoughts would then unravel if he knew the truth. He will wonder if he is a burden, he will wonder if his parents had allowed the taste of death to escape him. He would never be able to bring himself to forgive them. Even then, the fact that his parents were now different people brought in another enigmatic development. His hate would return to God, furious for latching their memories away but then begin to question if they had wanted this, if it had secretly been their dying wish. The thought that Luca and Junji's love had prevailed even through death and reincarnations would make him question his own worth. It was the memories of his family that Elijah treasured. He would have thought that experiences one truly valued could withstand the disease of mortality.

The feline's eyes drift towards the large figure. Unfamiliar yet familiar. The golden tiger was uncanny to his brightly blue eyes, watching her movements with a mild curiosity. It was when she spoke his name that it felt real and new. Goldenluxury Roux. He remembers her. She is the daughter of Captain Pincher. He wonders if he is still around, his own gaze meeting the green hues that gleamed from the now older woman. She was in a different body now. He is aware that there are creatures who can undoubtedly change forms whether it be through shapeshifting or possession. As a result of her new body, he also saw her as different now. While he has always thought the fem to be warm and protective, trust doesn't return so quickly. He has had enough of 'trusting'. He had trusted in God but it was trust misplaced. Justice held no love and compassion. It was devoid of emotion because it was the Heavens who believed that emotions merely clouded judgement. He learnt that you could not be both just and loving. To stand wholesomely to one meant to sacrifice the other.

His fur rises, slightly started when he notices her attention briefly shifting towards his wings. His own feathers rustle and, his rats - noticing the boys rising discomforts - begin to feel unsettled themselves as they stare at the harpy eagle who accompanied Goldenluxury. "I'm... okay," he hesitates, whiskers twitching as he thinks of a response to the fem's second question, "Is there, uh, a spare hut near the beach?" He is aware of the volcanic eruption from his rats and, while most may want to visit their previous home, he does not want to visit his old family's abode. He still isn't ready. Even if the place were in ashes, different in appearance, he might cry from the memories of growing up. Elijah looks up again, tilting his head: "What's the basket for?"