WELL DID SHE MAKE YOU CRY? 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;"][ ooc ] sorry for late reply i was trying to gather muse for one of my characters to match fdslkjsdfkl

His world has always been filled with rosy memories and a resonating lack of sound. Noiselessness revolves around Elijah’s tiny form, frail and deaf to the events that unfold before him, wide eyes starry in nature. The voice of his heart, beating within his chest, is unknown to him. And yet the artefacts of his younger months are filled with heart beats, reverberating against the walls of his small mind, hammering in beats. The image of being nestled within his mother’s embrace, curled up and eyes closed. Warmth swells within his chest, a palette of soft colours come to memory. The moments blur and mesh, murmurs of a beautiful hum. All the nightmarish moments the child has encountered come as static, painted in a sea of grey, darkened clouds. Ugliness spills at the seams, an overflowing bucket. A shaken breath overwhelms him. Whenever he thinks back, he feels himself freeze over. For a moment it is as if his being has left his body, frozen in time, before he is drawn back – feelings suppressed because they do not fit into his reimagining of the world’s panorama. He has only lived four months but the child, since his introduction to the residents of the island, has seen only misery and misfortune.

The innocence of a child is like a jewel. It glistens and refracts holy light in every angle, every precise edge and cut, but it shatters upon impact. Shards like star dust disperse, a gorgeous but bittersweet rain of crystals scatter along the ground. Like a plague, it manifests itself within him. He used to trust the entirety of the universe, accepted it no matter the spines that were dappled along its back. The boy simply loves too much for his own good. Gullible, too trusting, unable to realise the ones who were out to hurt him. The rats have taught him that his wonderland is tainted with the mark of his enemies, the ones who seek to hurt him. Royal blood dissolves his vision, the rich purple that drains down his sister’s cheek. As the child grows restless from the recurring remnants of that night, so do the rodents who begin to chitter and move. They move as a swarm, a dangerous hive, beady eyes searching back and forth as if their prince were in danger. His breath shudders, emotions unravelling like smoke to be breathed in through the nostrils of his rats, Thirteen’s gaze turning towards Elijah in concern.

‘You are safe – no more dangers, little one.’ He feels no comfort in those words. Even though he knows the one who had hurt Stella is now gone, this has been his third nightmare this week. He has been unable to sleep during the night, passing out by day only to wake up. Elijah can’t even seek the comfort of his own heart, unable to hear or feel the pulsations in his chest when he forces himself to rise. Breaths are sharp, air sucked into his lungs as if he were drawing an arrow. Thirteen, his mind searches desperately. The rats, obeying and understanding his needs, all scurry away, leaving behind the dark-furred rodent with the scar on its back. The creature looks at him, worry dresses its face before it quietly moves towards him, hopping onto Elijah’s back and climbing onto his head. There are small nubs that have begun to form upon the demidemon’s head, baby blue horns that match his eyes. ‘Adventuring again, Elijah?’ The child feigns a painful smile, dipping his head in a nod. His expression is drenched with fatigue, unsure if mother will be very happy with him leaving the house when he is so tired.

Unit One, check the exits for me, he calls, moving towards the door. His rats dashing towards various rooms, shifting their attention from one place to another. ‘Elijah,’ his companion speaks again but the winged boy gives a brief laugh, aware of what his friend was about to say. Scio, the ragdoll responds, interrupting Thirteen, before addressing the critters again, I want Unit Two and Three to accompany me, obsecro. To his command, a wave of rodents follow behind him. While his army cannot follow him into his dreams or his mind, he feels safe wandering on his own when they are around him. The creatures do not move with him out in the open, they move through bushes and burrows underground, shuffling carefully. Four more rats join the boy on his back, some resting upon the rustled feathers of his wings while others perched upon his head. Thirteen clings against one of Elijah’s growing horns, watching behind him in silence. Memories are like the beat of a drum, low and threatening as he remembers moments filled with decay and an eyeless frame. It was a sight not to be seen by children, rotten and filled with sin. If watching his fathers fight Caesar after attacking Stella wasn’t enough of a horrid sight, the appearance of Argus’ corpse and missing face was a haunting ghost, burned directly into memory. He doesn’t cry anymore but his feelings become still, eyes the window of a broken child.

Elijah may be damaged, but the boy believes he can be mended. Positivity is an awful thing, instilling hope into a lost cause that was the demiangel. Although his first four months have been corrupted with painful thoughts, he never thought of himself as capable of taking revenge, harming others for the sake of it. Some may look to the brown boy as a thief considering the number of rats and units he had working beneath him, all trained to listen to his command because of his natural affinity with pests. As a demidemon of infestation, some pirates simply didn’t trust the sight of rats all peering at them, faces unreadable as that of a wild animal. Perhaps once can say that Elijah is a thief of privacy, dispersing his rodents to collect information for him, alert the boy if someone were in danger or was a possible threat to his bane of existence. He is fearful of getting hurt, quivering at the thought that he needs others to scout ahead. The rats would do almost anything for Elijah. He is their prince, uncrowned but idolised, looked at as their protector. It is a mutual contract. He keeps the creatures safe in return for Elijah’s own protection. If Elijah were to so much as doubt his survival, a plague of rats will swarm towards the one threatening him, clambering on top and biting again and again. The boy, however, would never wish to condone this kind of reaction. The action of his rats reflected on him, extensions of his being.

‘A scream,’ Thirteen alerts the boy, the rodent standing on two legs. The movement of the rats have stopped, some flinching at the sound as they hear crashes and thuds. Elijah hesitates at first, feeling the discomfort of his companions. They know that there is an eagle nest up ahead, worried about the possibility of being plucked off from the ground, killed with the tight grip of talons. Vade in domum tuam, the child addresses the second unit. The smaller of a group he has, the less likely they will be attacked as the rest of his rodents move closer towards him. His wings lower from their original tucked position as to cloak over the creatures before his eyes turn towards the source, hues narrowed slightly to form his brave face. Words melt and reform in his brain, the child cautious when he begins his approach, chest rising and falling in discomfort. The image of Peppino begins to clear into view, nervousness settling in his stomach. Agony. There was once a moment where thinking of the canine brought him sweet feelings, butterflies in a childish love. He adored the sage for simply being compassionate, for saving him, but there was no real reason. Elijah simply loved everyone, some more than others.

He looks beyond the older male’s form, semi-glowing hues recognising the contorted figure of a girl. It was another sight that didn’t fit into his perspective of beauty. It doesn’t belong in his land of fantasy, a monstrosity of wonderland. The frame is unnatural, Elijah biting his bottom lip. From the broken branches surrounding the Bengal, he can deduce that the bangs and loud noises were the result of – ‘A fall,’ Thirteen confirms, tail curling behind its miniscule body. Scio, he weakly replies. She must have broken her bones from the impact, Elijah only just realising that Pip had begun to work on assisting the girl. If Peppino had voiced his concerns about treating the girl, he might have felt guilty. Mama had stepped down because he was too busy, because he was stressed about being soothsayer and needed more time for his brother and sisters. It might have been Elijah’s fault. His heart condition sometimes worsened. Would Peppino blame him for it? He looks down, swallowing a shivered breath in a hopeless attempt to hide his insecurities.

And yet Elijah cannot simply stand there saying nothing, the boy pressing a soft smile. “Do you need any more help?” he asks finally but, from the looks of it, Peppino had handled everything fine without him. He felt useless around the other pirates, only staring at the way the fem's body has been dressed with herbs and supported sticks where the bones must have broken. She was a sorry sight, nothing that the child should be looking at. And yet, with the presence of his rats around him, he felt like he could tackle just about anything...even Caesar.