#r ; silence still speaks volumes [ revon ]

[aquaticsoul]

for the stars of @shiroi---kumo ->

This section of the forest is different than the rest. The trees grow taller here, thicker but not quite thick enough to block the sky. A strange floral smell hangs in the air that's of some familiarity but not enough for him to place with any degree of precision. It's surely a plant he's been around before.

He doesn't think about when or where. Rather, his eyes focus instead on the brush. Twisted, tangled briars full of jagged brown thorns will surely punish any step even slightly off the barely-visible path quite brutally. Perhaps most notable about this area, though, is the distinct lack of animal life. Not a single heart other than theirs beats, not a single chirp from any bird or scamper from any little feet. The plants aren't acting too bad today, and for once he almost misses their harassment.

It feels oppressive and it makes him uneasy, but he chooses to stay quiet about his discomfort like he usually does in favor of settling down to rest with the others.

It's not like they can go much farther without it. Tiamat be blessed, he himself can hardly stand, and he's sure Revon is tiring of carrying him. A short break and they'll be on their way, right?

He finds himself starting to doze off again. Everything is still so quiet and he can hardly keep himself awake for longer than five minutes.

There's near-silence for quite some time. Then he's being shifted off of Revon and having to tune his mind into the words being exchanged, back in the waking world and all its strangeness.

"En tiedä mikä se oli," Revon says as he stands. "Luultavasti ei mitään, mutta se on turvallisempaa tarkistaa."

It's never nothing. Not in Wonderland.

Sielu doesn't have time to tell him this before there is a low growl from the trees. Well-trained ears that, at least right now, are not ringing have his head pointed to a specific place, yet...

Yet there isn't a single living thing in sight. Not where it's supposed to be, anyway. Rather, several feet away there lurks a shadowy-black beast as tall as Revon. It almost shimmers in an unnatural way, but -

Its eyes. He knows that kind of look. He's stared right into a gaze of pure malevolence before on more than one occasion. This one is no different.

"Revon-"

He's cut off by a mighty howl that again is not placed correctly, a declaration of hatred and violence that sends his heart rate towards the sky. And it then proceeds to lunge forward, charging past him on six muscular legs towards the knight in question. The ground on his opposite side is what vibrates, and he finds himself wondering if he's losing his mind.

Regardless of his exhaustion, the adrenaline now coursing through his system allows him at least to gather himself into standing so he can figure out if Revon needs his help.

The monster makes it to the aurorean in what would normally be a mediocre speed to Mistericans, one of the long, barbed, tentacle-like limbs growing out of its shoulders lashing towards the man like a whip in what Sielu assumes is an attempt to knock him prone.

He just needs to wait for an order. Wait even though he feels the urge to rush forward himself, let Revon handle things for now because he's actually trained, let Revon take charge because he's not as likely to get everyone killed.

#v ; up above the sorrows (post-rescue) #illness tw #injury tw #hallucination tw #violence tw #t ; uncertainty and displacement #r ; silence still speaks volumes [ revon ]

[aquaticsoul]

@muses-of-kira submitted:

⏰ + Revon

Memories || ACCEPTING

"Päivä tervehtii, Revon."

The name feels almost wrong leaving his lips. It's been 'Eversti' or 'Eversti Tulet' up until this point, an attempt to "speak palace" as Sielu calls it.

An attempt to be correct and not offend anyone, but the longer he's here, the longer he finds it exceedingly difficult.

He can't call a five-year-old boy who comes in like clockwork asking for a hug and to color 'Your Highness' the way he knows he's supposed to - it's so quickly become 'Pilvi' during their lessons and the puffball seems infinitely happier about it anyway.

And the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes the weight of his Oath. Of course he'd known exactly what he'd signed up for, but it extends beyond Pilvi too. The Royal Family is much larger than just their Lord and Lady plus their children - and Revon Tulet is bound to Pilvi just the same.

So, really, it's just a little weird to keep calling him his rank, right? It feels as weird as he thinks it would for his mother to say "the twins" rather than "my children" or "Sielu and Sydän" - she just simply wouldn't. But it's not weird from strangers.

It's that line, the one between "family" and "stranger" here that's making Sielu test the name boundary with the knight this morning. Pilvi is still asleep in the man's arms, which is not an uncommon way for the day to start.

Pink eyes meet blue and do not seem to be angry or offended. No, they seem as if this is a completely normal interaction. His plan can proceed, then.

"Päivä tervehtii," Revon replies. "His Highness is-"

"Exhausted. Let him sleep. I don't mind. And... actually, you've got to be the same. I don't think I've seen you sit down a day I've been here," he starts, gesturing for the man to bring the child into his classroom. He shuts the door, standing in front of it like he could actually stop Revon from exiting should the taller Misterican wish to leave.

"I think you should test out the new chair. I already know Pilvi's told you about it, and with how much he adores you I doubt he wants you to put him down anyway."

Green eyebrows are raising, telling Sielu that his ploy has been seen straight through, though Revon does oblige anyway. He settles into the chair with his charge curled up against him, one tiny hand clutching at his shirt and little puffs of white Mist making their way into the air around them.

"... It's a nice chair."

"Isn't it? Now just sit for a while."

He remains in front of the door until he sees that Revon has relaxed in the chair, then sits at his desk to resume putting new strings on his guitar.

Even an hour of rest has to be a relief for a knight who's always on his feet. A quick glance back over his shoulder a few minutes later tells him his assumption had been correct, considering Revon has fallen asleep just like his charge.

No one can resist the allure of that chair.

#hey ho nobody home ; queue. #sing a round of love ; answered. #meme ; memories #topic ; revon #topic ; family #topic ; background #[ he loves 1 revon ] #[ revon loves 1 puff ] #[ and he also loves 1 chair ] #r ; silence still speaks volumes [ revon ] #arc ; sing dear bird (misterica)

[aquaticsoul]

Reflection | OC-tober Day 3

A long look in the mirror tells Sielu that it's time to consider how things have gone.

CW for death, injury, scars, effects of long-term abuse, restraints.

Pilvi, Palo, Aamunkoitto, Valo, Revon, and Sydän are all living over on @shiroi---kumo , authored by the ever-amazing Kira. I recommend checking them out! Share the love.

He's afraid to look in the mirror.

He's afraid to look, but his periphreal vision has already caught the mirror. He's frozen, clutching his shirt in both hands. It's the last thing he has to put on before he goes back to the bed provided for his use.

Maybe it's time that he sees for himself just how terrible he looks. It would at least allow him to deal with his own hair for once instead of ignoring it until someone does it for him.

He turns, placing the shirt on the counter of the sink. Slowly, his head lifts enough for him to finally examine the reflection.

Ghostly pale skin stretched over an underweight frame and littered with various scars, having lost most of its tone to the point of being nearly skeletal. A choker that's tattered and fraying a bit. A thick mane of cyan hair overgrown to a point several inches past the shoulders. Three horns of dull aventurine that have gone nearly a decade without buffing or polishing. The crack he expects to see in the rightmost one must have healed long ago.

Dark blue eyes that search fearfully and contain no light, tears spilling over the edges as the details get processed one by one.

Is this really what everyone else sees?

Is this why they act the way that they do?

They've not even seen all the scarring. The one across his shoulder is more faded than the others he'd acquired from his time on that airship. It's the one that she began with. She'd used his own knife for it.

There are countless more from his wrists up to his elbows, all from trying to break out of restraints despite them cutting into him. Some are more faded than others, while some are still relatively angry-looking and vibrant. A few probably needed stitches at one point, but that luxury wasn't something he had access to. The bruising is gone, at least, leaving only shades of pink and red.

The newest marks are only a few months old and from the only successful attempt he ever made. From the day he finally escaped and saw the sun again after nine years.

He'd fought so hard. The thought crosses his mind that he shouldn't have had to prove himself worthy of rest. Not after that.

He's suffered for too long. It's etched right there into his skin. He's staring right at all the pain and it stares back at him unforgiving. His eyes narrow. He doesn't want to yield this time.

Enough.

He's had enough of this.

He broke out of there. He's tired of being a prisoner. He broke out and he can even prove that he did. He survived and he saved himself and it isn't fair for it all to have been for nothing.

Aamunkoitto is right. He doesn't have to live with conditions anymore. Never again.

Pilvi is right, too. Sielu gets to decide who he is. It isn't Herba's decision, nor is it Revon's, nor anyone else's. It is his and his alone.

Slowly, without ever breaking eye contact with himself, he works his body into the shirt. Its sleeves are a bit too long and the seams don't sit right on his shoulders, but it's clean and comfortable. There is no blood or pollen stuck to its fibers.

He picks up the hairbrush. The job he does isn't perfect, but it gets his hair to stop sticking up in strange places. It untangles it enough to where it's not so uncomfortable. There is nothing stopping him from wanting something as simple as brushed hair. Part of him still hates the color of it, but that part of him is little more than conditioned to do so.

This is his hair. Valo says it's beautiful. It is the color of his Mist. It is from his mother and his father, even though blue is dominant and only present on his mother's side. No such color like his ever showed up in either side of the family before him. Nothing even close to cyan was ever present, but it was made possible through the vibrance of his father's side. It was made possible and all its own because, for some unexplainable reason, the Mist separated itself out before he was born.

All Misterican twins had this happen. Both children would be parts of whichever color the Mist would have been had they been just one Misterican. Their eyes and horns followed the same pattern. There would be, also, mirroring of almost every trait that wasn't identical. The part of their hair, their dominant hand, the side they sleep on, their sex, the way they situate themselves when idly standing - all mirrored almost uncannily. All flipped.

Given how rare twins were, at least in Mistericans, not much was really known about them outside of that short list of facts. Not for certain. He's heard comments before that twins could never be mythics or summoners and he's heard on the opposite end that supposedly twins have the potential for extremely powerful magic if performed together. He's heard people warn his own parents that twins were prone to all sorts of problems and he's heard others say twins were immune to many medical issues.

Many people he knew assumed that twins were some divine representation of harmony or balance. He still thinks that's one of the stupidest things he has ever heard.

All of it was speculation and no one ever was able to confirm. Even Palo didn't have much on the subject of anything he may be prone to suffering later in life, explaining that there just weren't enough twins to draw solid conclusions from and that it wouldn't be ethical to try and figure it out anyway. Something about statistics and not enough data. Then something about studies and ethics.

He wonders if she'd find any of what's happened to him 'ethical'. He wonders if she'd have told Revon and Valo to be more kind or if she'd have just been even worse with the questioning. He wonders if she'd be able to help him breathe better and stop being so dizzy. He wonders if she'd even want to try.

He supposes it doesn't matter. Not worth thinking about now that his hair is brushed out and now that he hates it just a little less than a few moments ago. He just needs time.

Time and patience and remembering.

The towel he'd used gets folded and put away. His horns will have to wait for another day given how tired his shoulders are from just doing his hair. Both of them have been sprained or something without healing correctly. Another product of those damned restraints... and while they don't always hurt anymore, they are much more stiff and limited than they used to be.

His bed stays empty. He joins Aamunkoitto and Valo instead, crawling under the blanket at the dawn's other side. This is what he usually finds himself really wanting. Being close. That's it. He just wants to listen to the steady, familiar cadence of Aamun's heart, calmed by its rhythm while he breathes in the smell his mind has started to associate with safety.

He's free. He's safe. He's warm. He's not all by himself. He's not there anymore. He can rest. He's happy right here, a comfortable little ball curled up against Aamunkoitto's side with his head resting on the man's chest. He is free. He is safe.

Usually, he never purrs or finds that he's content enough to not resist sleep. Tonight is an exception, it seems, as the soft noise begins and his wakefulness fades.

#r ; the fire that lit up the sky [ palo / shiroi kumo ] #r ; the image of evil itself [ herba ] #lyre's oc tober #r ; there's always starlight [ valo ] #r ; beast of the dawn [ aamunkoitto ] #r ; silence still speaks volumes [ revon ] #r ; maamuna [ pilvi ] #r ; same frequency [ sydän ] #arc ; show me how to fly (post rescue) #happiness in c major ; mun's writing

[aquaticsoul]

@shiroi---kumo asked:

🕯️ + Revon

Innermost Thoughts || ACCEPTING

• You're confusing your Mist's abilities with you as a person. Just because you're green doesn't mean you're toxic, Revon. I wish you could have met Terälehti. He advocated against that type of thing hard. Maybe he could have helped you see the difference. Maybe not. But you deserve a chance, at least. Please understand how much I care about you and how much I need you to know that you're a good person with a kind heart. You're a gentle person... not a toxic one. I'm sorry that Misterica as a whole didn't seem to care about that. I'm sorry that you ended up not liking yourself. You can't make me hate you though. It's not possible.

• Have you ever killed somebody? Do you know how to cope better than I do? I'm drowning in guilt over it. I don't know what to do. I didn't even mean to but that doesn't exactly matter, does it? Part of me just wants to confess. I don't know how.

• Eldest is such a strange word to use for me. Do you really think of me that way? Can I truly rely on that? If you knew what I've done, would you then take the word away? I don't want you to. I want to be something to someone. Please let me just stay near you. I feel safe here. Tunnen olevani rakastettu ja siitä on niin kauan. Rakastan sinua.

Bonus: Misterica Edition

• I think I'm supposed to be intimidated but we're both clearly concerned over little dude here and you look tired and your horns are SO pretty. WHY are they so pretty? Who are you, fellow neon sparkle guy?

• You really do just stand around all the time. That's gotta be uncomfy. I'm going to get you a chair. It'll be amazing.

• If nobody else gets why I'm pissed off right now, you certainly will, which is why I've come looking for you. And- oh, you kinda look rough. I'm here. And he'll hopefully wake up soon. I bet. Palo wouldn't lie to us, right? Do I say something or just sit with you? I'll just sit first. I've got you. You're not alone. I won't make you be alone.

#violence tw #death tw #injury tw #illness tw #coma tw #murder tw #meme ; innermost thoughts #sing a round of love ; answered. #topic ; fears #topic ; misterica #topic ; mist #topic ; family #topic ; background #topic ; revon #topic ; misterican royal knights #topic ; misterican royal family #r ; silence still speaks volumes [ revon ] #arc ; sing dear bird (misterica) #arc ; 9 years passed without me (post escape)

[aquaticsoul]

@dragontamer05 sent in a nice dream:

😊 *

Dreams or Nightmares || ACCEPTING

He's restrained and he's not sure why. He had been with Valo and Aamunkoitto, right? And Revon?

It's too dark to figure out where he is, and somehow he's not sure he'd wish to figure it out anyway. It has to be that he's been caught again and that must mean-

He feels like he'll be sick.

It must mean that she either killed them or, worse, that she'll break them just like him but no sound comes when he screams their names.

It is dark. It is still. It is totally silent - he cannot even hear his own heartbeat and he's not certain he's breathing.

A door creaks open and shut again. There are no footsteps. There don't need to be.

Not with Herba.

But the breaths of whoever's come in are much deeper than the plant witch's, the pulse much gentler. Gently do the hands behind him work to untangle the knots binding his wrists and even more gently do those same arms gather him up to hold him.

Warm, but not too warm. Warm in a way that's cold to pretty much every other species - Misterican.

He can't ask who it is. He isn't even sure he wants to know. It is not Revon's hold, for he can't hear the elevation of pulse that always comes when he can't respond. And for that reason, it can't be Aamunkoitto or Valo either.

Who else is trapped here?

A hand brushes some hair off of his face at the same time he can hear the slightest hitch in the person's breath, a sniffle - they're crying but trying not to.

"Pikkuveli, shh... shh..."

Sydän?

How is she here?

Moreover, who made her cry? Why is she crying?

"I'm right here. I'm right here. I won't leave you. I'm here. Everything's gonna be okay."

He still can't see her. He can't see her but it doesn't matter because she wouldn't lie to him. It doesn't matter because if he can trust absolutely no one else in the whole universe, he can trust her.

He's too tired to do anything else anyway, and the hand that had just been stroking his hair is now wiping his tears away with the same softness as before, its owner humming a distantly-familiar lullaby.

And for as much as she didn't often sing given how much she preferred dancing, her voice had always been his very favorite and the same remains true even now. Even in... this place, wherever they are.

If her Mist could heal his wounds, then surely it would make sense for her voice to soothe over all his fears in the same manner.

One lone voice humming a quiet song - that's all he's ever needed to feel better, to feel safe.

The melody slowly fades out as light pours into his vision. It isn't Sydän's gaze that he's staring into, but the comfort from his dream is enough to keep him from biting Revon the moment he wakes this time.

There's a breeze across his face. Blue eyes slip peacefully closed, Sielu's head resting on the knight's shoulder as he settles back down.

Sleeping again comes much more easily this time than it usually does.

#sing a round of love ; answered. #meme ; dreams or nightmares #topic ; fears #topic ; likes #topic ; family #topic ; background #topic ; sydän #topic ; revon #derealization tw #restraints tw #r ; double the blessings [ sydän / shiroi---kumo ] #r ; silence still speaks volumes [ revon ] #arc ; 9 years passed without me (post escape)

[aquaticsoul]

What Can't Change

He believes he needs to change in order to be seen. Surprisingly, though, Kain sees him anyway.

CW for implied abuse, medical stuff, extreme self hatred/self deprecation, loneliness, PTSD, implied self-neglect. Under a cut due to length.

Kira, the last line is for you.

There's a faint sound of purring beyond the door that he'd been about to open. Peaceful, content purring. Purring that says they are happy and purring that says it would just be cruel to wake them.

Initially, he'd made this walk all the way to Aamun and Valo's room to explain that he's practicing again and that his voice is fixed but...

His excitement is short-lived as always, fading into quiet bitterness and shame.

Not a single note leaves him as he drags himself back to bed, pulling the blankets up to hide under. What was almost a song has turned now into a messy arrangement of sniffles and half-sobs.

There is simply no reason to bother singing. Why should he?

Why should he go disturb anyone when they're too busy and too tired? It would only be bothersome. It would only disrupt the others' happiness to barge in and show his face when so far he has no indication they'd like to see it.

He can feel his own heart breaking a little more every time the door to the room he's been assigned opens and it's not one of his friends. He can feel himself barely holding it together whenever he hears the squeak of hinges and that stupid hope bubbles up in his chest. It's always a swift letdown by a routine checkup. He sees Cid far more than the people he actually likes being around.

And he always tells himself that maybe next time, it really will be Revon or Aamun or Valo and they really do think about him when he's not there and they really will be happy to hear how his voice is healing.

He always tells himself that they're just tired. Just busy. They'll come soon. They'll send for him soon. They'll do it as soon as they can.

It doesn't help anymore, not when he can still remember so clearly that wretched woman that says his voice is horrible.

He can hear her tell him that it's much better if he is quiet. No one would ever want to hear from a voice like his. Silence and staying out of their sight is the only way they love him.

His left thumb traces his right wrist, running over what's left of the fading scars. They're barely visible now.

He'd fought so hard to even make it here.

But it wasn't that bad. It wasn't whatever they put Pilvi through, whatever Sydän had called 'hell', whatever had broken him like glass.

It isn't worth complaining to anyone. It isn't worth asking for someone to talk to when it'd just be a bother.

It isn't even worth crying over, but he can't make himself stop that part. He pulls the blanket closer, the one he'd borrowed out of Revon's bed because he'd been too scared to wake the knight and ask to join him.

It doesn't smell like him anymore. Really, it hasn't for a while and is filled now with his own awful scent, but he wants it to smell like Revon so badly that he tolerates it anyway.

And he wants to pretend Aamun is here too, holding him, telling him everything is okay and that he's safe even though he doesn't feel like it. He never does.

There isn't even a point in going to that man anyway given all that happened last time was an awkward utterance of his name. All that happened even when he'd been desperate enough to scream was... nothing, honestly. Not from Aamun.

It was almost as if Aamunkoitto hadn't even heard him. And for as much as he tries to forget about it, he just can't. It's an open, gaping, angry wound that he keeps trying to cover up so he doesn't hurt so much, but the blood seeps through every layer of bandages he puts on.

Then there's Valo... all he does is make Valo feel worse. The historian is far too exhausted for something so trivial. So is Pilvi.

The blanket still doesn't smell like Revon. He shoves it onto the floor.

"I hate myself," he chokes out, wrapping his arms around himself as if he can hold back the inevitable sobs, as if curling into a little ball to take up less space will help soften the impact of the thought that's looping in his brain.

"Why did she have to be right?"

It's a question he won't get an answer to. He forces himself to get back out of the not-nest he's made, dragging himself back down the hall towards the showers.

No one loves something like him because he won't shut up. No one loves something like him because he's revolting. Tainted. Disgusting. High-maintenance.

The shower won't change any of those things, but sometimes it makes him feel just a little less... himself.

And the farther away he can get from that, the better. Clearly.

He just needs to be as different as possible. Quiet, unobtrusive, easy to deal with... and then maybe they'll like him again. Maybe they'll see him as something worthy of keeping close.

The problem is figuring out how to do it. He hates staring at his reflection, but he's lingering on it anyway from the moment he closes the door.

There's not much he can do. It isn't like he can make his horns suddenly opal or his eyes suddenly violet or his hair suddenly -

His hair?

He can change his hair. Can't he?

Herba never liked it, and it would definitely be a rather striking difference more than anything subtle if he were to do something to it.

Would the others like it? How would they do it? A braid? A bun? Half-up?

He's not even sure if he remembers how to do any of those things. They'd be pointless if no one liked them anyway.

On top of that, a decade of not caring for his hair has made it brittle and still snarled in some places closer to the nape of his neck that hurt a little too much to detangle.

A braid would just look bad.

As if he could look any worse.

Maybe his hair being such a disaster has contributed to how much they don't like him. Maybe they don't even want to look at him.

A half-sigh half-sob pulls itself out of him as he looks again at the door, then the mirror.

Then back at the door when a knock catches his attention.

"Hey, Sielu?"

The small human. Pilvi's human. Kain.

"Sorry if I'm bothering you, but... I heard you crying. Are you okay? I can leave you alone if you want."

For a moment, he considers telling him to go away. He always gets the feeling he's not supposed to interact with Kain lest Pilvi get angry all over again, but... Pilvi is nowhere around that he can hear.

It's only Kain. Not even the bird.

He still can't understand why Kain would chase after him to check on him. He's not really worth checking on.

Cid and Kain do it anyway.

He sighs again and unlocks the door, pulling it open to look down at the man who shows only genuine concern.

"I didn't mean to be that loud," he replies, and those are some of the first words he's spoken to the human. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I didn't come to scold you or anything," Kain says. "I just wanted to ask if there was anything I could do. I know I'm not as close to you as the other Mistericans are, but... doesn't hurt to ask, does it?"

He doesn't know what comes over him. His reply happens before he can think to stop it.

"We aren't really that close anymore."

He feels bad for saying it, though he doesn't attempt taking it back either.

Kain somehow doesn't falter much.

"Oh... Noted. I'm sorry I assumed. Um... Do you want me to let you get back to your shower or... maybe we could go get some hot cocoa from the kitchen, if you like? If you don't want to do those, it's okay. Up to you."

And the human is smiling at him now, face warm and eyes far more patient than he deserves. It's the most welcoming expression he's seen in quite some time.

It's how Terälehti used to look at him, except blue is looking down into grey instead of up into amber.

"... I... I was going to... do something with my hair," he mumbles.

"Yeah? Do you want me to sit with you while you do your hair?"

"... Kumo will be upset with me."

The name still feels like spitting out glass. But that's what everyone calls Pilvi here, so he feels halfway obligated to follow suit.

Even if his own name is out in the open. Consent isn't really a common thing he's given, though.

"Kumo's not gonna be upset with you. I promise. I'd bet everything on me that he'd rather us get along. So... it's up to you right now, not Kumo."

His gaze drops to the floor. His shoulders curl in slightly.

His choices are usually wrong. But Pilvi loves Kain so much he has no option but to trust this.

"Mm... I... A-Actually, um... if... if you could... tell me what to do with it..?"

"With your hair? Did you have options you were picking between?"

"... I don't know what I... what would work... I used to tie it up but -"

But I don't want to look like myself anymore.

"- I don't think that I should do that."

He hopes the man before him doesn't question what he means.

Kain seems to take enough pity to spare him that awkwardness.

"Hm... Maybe we could brush it out first? Or I could sit with you while you brush it, if you'd rather me not touch you."

Too many choices. More than he's usually afforded, and the unfortunate thing is that with Kain he isn't sure which one is the right one.

A quick glance back up lets him see that the patient expression is still there. He shuffles backwards out of the doorway, gesturing for the smaller of them to come in and join him.

"... You may want a mask," he adds.

"I've got one in my pocket. Can I ask why?"

That has him staring, all acts of submission immediately replaced with blank confusion. Does Kain not know about Mist's latent magical effects?

Or does he just not care?

Maybe it's only blue that he's unfamiliar with?

"I... My breath would slow you to a near halt... I don't want to cause you trouble."

Equal confusion is on Kain's face now.

"Mist causes slowing down?"

Oh. He's totally clueless.

How? He's seen the man sleeping next to Pilvi in the middle of a whited-out room.

"Only blue... Has Kumo not explained?"

Kain shuts the door, leaning his back against it as he shakes his head.

"No, sir. He hasn't explained. I also didn't ask... I guess I didn't know to ask. Would you like to tell me?"

Sir?

Probably automatic. He doesn't correct it. He has no place to correct anyone. He doesn't question it, either.

His hand closes around the brush on the counter instead, raising it to start attempting to sort through the mess of bright cyan. At least it's somewhere for his nervous energy to go, even if he hates looking in the mirror.

"Different colors do different things. Blue slows."

Kain asks what he expects to follow.

"Hm. What about white?"

"It causes sleep."

The brush tugs at his hair, getting caught in one of the tangles before he manages to gently work through it. It's one of the less awful ones, more like bedhead than a real issue.

"Pink blinds," he continues. "Green is poison. Orange si- ow, fuck- silences the voice. And... purple heals."

He watches Kain take it all in, grey eyes turning down thoughtfully before meeting his gaze in the mirror again with that soft smile returning.

It's no mystery now why Pilvi chose this one.

"That makes a lot of sense, actually. I thought I just slept well because I love him so much."

That word. He still doesn't like it.

He fucking hates it. Love.

The tension that forms in his shoulders is visible along with the way he freezes mid-brush stroke.

He tries to move on from it. Kain is not Herba.

There's an uncomfortable silence as he resumes working both hands through another tangle, forgetting entirely that it's his turn to reply.

Kain stands up straight. He flinches, but the human comes no closer. It seems instead that Kain only did it to remove the mask from his pocket and put it on.

"Hey... Did I say something wrong?"

He draws in a deep breath, clenching and unclenching his jaw. What should he say?

No one has confronted him about it before. No one has even given a hint at noticing and somehow the fact that Kain does makes his eyes start to burn and his horns drop forward all over again.

"Can you tell me what it was? So I don't say it around you again?"

It feels like being punished, like he'll get into trouble for being so annoying and unable to carry himself, but some small part of him wants to say it. Some small part of him wants to believe that Kain won't use this against him somehow.

Some small part of him just wants someone to know what happened without dismissing him or pushing him even further away.

"... That... that word," he starts, and he hates the way his voice cracks. "Love. It... She made me say it to her. So I don't like it... Sorry."

There's another pause. He squeezes his eyes shut and pushes out a slow stream of air.

No strike comes.

"I'm not upset," Kain says. "I wouldn't like a word I was forced to say either."

"I don't love her."

Can he just stop making things about himself?

No. That's part of what makes him so horrible.

He still can't look up or open his eyes.

"She sounds awful. I won't say that word again. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

More seconds pass. He slowly lets his eyes open so that he can stare at the sink faucet while he attempts to continue brushing.

His hair feels so brittle. It comes out if he brushes too hard. It's not soft anymore.

It's just another thing to loathe. Another thing that's broken about him.

"Thank you," he finally manages.

"Of course."

If he could get his hair to look good again, would they like him more? Has that been the problem?

His hands are shaking as he puts the brush down, trying to ignore the strands of blue that come away in the bristles.

How could Valo have thought this disaster was beautiful?

Maybe he was just being nice to keep him quiet.

"... Can... Can you..."

He can't figure out the word. Not in this language. The downside of being bilingual... trilingual? How many languages does he even know?

Further, do the humans count music as its own language or as something different? What of Misterican sign?

"I need the... like knives, but two of them together... facing each other?"

What a stupid fucking explanation.

"Uh..." Kain responds, frowning in thought. "Scissors? Yeah, I can get you some."

"And... not tell Cid?"

Silence again. He watches how Kain nods at him slowly through the mirror.

"Yeah. Can I ask why we aren't telling him?"

"... Because he... would not let me have them," he replies, putting the brush back onto the counter. "Not after last time."

He can see the question before Kain even asks, the one inquiring what 'last time' means. His shoulders slump forward more as a visibly-misty sigh rolls off his lips.

"... I asked for them and tried to cut the IV line so I could leave."

"You're not gonna use them to do anything, right? Like... harmful?"

A valid question. He can't say he faults the man for asking such a thing.

He wishes he could be trusted more though. He wishes someone would take enough time to know the why behind the things he does, but no one has much to spare.

"I won't. I just... I think I should cut this. The split ends and... well, it'll... it'll grow back stronger. That's if I can even make myself do it."

Kain turns to pull open the door, seeming satisfied with his answer. He watches him go, finally allowing his gaze to turn completely to the floor once the human is gone down the hallway.

Cutting away the damage is good, right?

The others will like it... won't they? The more he changes the hair he has, the less recognizable he is. And once it grows back, he'll do whatever they want him to do with it and no one will have to worry about it breaking in the process.

Kain returns as politely as he'd come in the first time, armed with the... thing he's already forgotten the name of again.

"So... I was thinking," he begins.

"Hm?"

"And if you don't want me to, it's fine, but I was thinking that I could help if you wanted. Just since I know it's hard."

Again comes a reply he doesn't think about first.

"Just don't touch my horns."

And again, he scolds himself. He isn't supposed to give commands or draw lines.

He wouldn't be surprised if Kain left him then and there. But he doesn't. He just keeps the conversation up.

"Okay. I won't touch your horns. Anything else?"

His feet come up off the ground a few inches so he can bring his legs in, floating as steadily as he can at a height easy for Kain to deal with.

"... Don't stop if I cry. Thank you."

It should be Sydän doing this. Or his mother. A family member.

They aren't around anymore to do it.

Kain is just as gentle as he seems. The whole time, he's careful and gentle.

Gentle enough that he could get used to the human having a title like that. Like 'family'.

If Pilvi is keeping someone around, then...

He's glad it's Kain.

His hair doesn't even end up being that short anyway. Just past his shoulders, when he finally makes himself look in the mirror.

That isn't what he notices, though.

No, what he notices...

"That damn spike is still there!"

#r ; pilvi's human [ kain / forgotten-teammates ] #injury tw #death tw #hospital tw #abuse tw #self deprecation tw #ptsd tw #r ; there's always starlight [ valo ] #r ; beast of the dawn [ aamunkoitto ] #r ; silence still speaks volumes [ revon ] #r ; maamuna [ pilvi ]

[aquaticsoul]

sielu's favorite activities (a non-comprehensive list)

• lay on friends while they read to him

• hold puff

• hide in soft blanket

• nap on The Beast

• nap on valo

• nap on sparkle dad

• snacks

in conclusion,

• please let him have soft time

#play it by ear ; unserious posts. #[[ except it's true he loves soft time ]] #r ; there's always starlight [ valo ] #r ; beast of the dawn [ aamunkoitto ] #r ; silence still speaks volumes [ revon ] #r ; maamuna [ pilvi ]

[aquaticsoul]

anonymous said:

“He needs you.”

Whispers in the Wind || ACCEPTING

His mouth opens behind his mask in an almost-reply, but no sound escapes like usual. He wonders, briefly, if the others know exactly how much he refrains from uttering his thoughts, but back to this voice -

They have to be speaking of Revon, right?

They're correct if they are. Revon does need him for now. The man needs a smaller form around his height to protect and look out for. Sielu won't dare deprive him of such. Sixteen years of a father without a child.

Sixteen years, and here he is. Not the correct child, but he has accepted his role as a placeholder. He has promised Revon his remaining time.

Revon needs him. Revon has him.

It would be nice, though, if he could be a permanent fixture, not one to be discarded when the need runs out.

It would be nice if, just for a while, he didn't have to come last. It would be nice to not be compared or measured, to not be seen for what he is but rather who he is.

It would be nice, but those are selfish desires. Selfish, impossible desires.

He can't expect Revon to do something that he can't even do himself. He's not even angry about it. His whole life has been one big comparison. This is no different.

His heart simply knows that he's a temporary placeholder until Revon's real son is back in the picture. And then... then if he's still alive, he'll be lonely again.

It's worth it, though. It's worth it.

"... I know he does."

Perhaps the man will be gentle with the inevitable abandonment. That's all he can hope for.

#sing a round of love ; answered. #meme ; whispers in the wind #abandonment tw #r ; silence still speaks volumes [ revon ] #arc ; 9 years passed without me (post escape)

[aquaticsoul]

anonymous asked:

“Is there someone you hold dear?”

Whispers in the Wind || ACCEPTING

"... If it isn't obvious, there are a few. I'd... I'd do anything for them." His head drops a bit, eyes pointed at the ground. "I'd give up my life right now if it meant they could find somewhere comfortable to rest for the night. I'm not good company, but... I care for them more than they could ever know."

#sing a round of love ; answered. #meme ; whispers in the wind #death tw #topic ; valo #topic ; aamunkoitto #topic ; revon #topic ; pilvi #r ; there's always starlight [ valo ] #r ; beast of the dawn [ aamunkoitto ] #r ; silence still speaks volumes [ revon ] #r ; maamuna [ pilvi ] #arc ; 9 years passed without me (post escape)

[aquaticsoul]

anonymous asked:

“Can’t you tell they love you?”

Whispers in the Wind || ACCEPTING

Whether someone real is talking to him or not, he isn't sure.

Regardless, his face falls at the statement. He hates that word.

Some days it's more disgusting than others, but right now... it merely saddens him.

"... Perhaps they do," he responds. "But... I am still the easiest to lose. I can't tell them and I understand it's horrible, but I... I wish sometimes that I were just as important... and that they'd be as upset over me as they are each other and- and Makenshi."

He draws in a slow breath and exhales it just as slowly. It was nearly too close, using the right name - he can't risk such a thing.

"It's a pointless want, though. It'd do nothing but cause another fight if I said anything about it. I think my hopes are meant to die half-fulfilled and in silence."

#sing a round of love ; answered. #topic ; pilvi #topic ; fears #topic ; dislikes #topic ; revon #topic ; aamunkoitto #topic ; valo #death tw #meme ; whispers in the wind #r ; there's always starlight [ valo ] #r ; beast of the dawn [ aamunkoitto ] #r ; silence still speaks volumes [ revon ] #r ; maamuna [ pilvi ] #arc ; 9 years passed without me (post escape)

[aquaticsoul]

@shiroi---kumo (the stars) sent in:

they're very proud of themselves

His hands reach out to grab it and pull it under the blanket with him.

After a moment of looking it over, he peers back out at them.

Perhaps his hopeful gaze will make someone want to join him for nap time. If he's lucky, he'll be comfortably sandwiched in the middle again.

#sing a round of love ; answered. #meme ; sielu's type #r ; there's always starlight [ valo ] #r ; beast of the dawn [ aamunkoitto ] #r ; silence still speaks volumes [ revon ]

[aquaticsoul]

@shiroi---kumo sent in an icon:

(pre-fall) 👂 + Revon

"Send 👂 to overhear my muse talking about yours."

Relationship Building || ACCEPTING

The advantage of having Sielu as a twin brother is that he's taken his designation as the "impulsive" one seriously. Thus, he's gone through a trial first and he knows what things to point out to his sister before just leaving her to fend for herself.

Or, at least, he thinks he knows, and it's the thought that counts, right?

They both cross the threshold into the palace together, and he points out almost nothing about the building itself. Instead, he's skipped that and launched right into talking about its inhabitants.

After a too-long ramble about how Aamunkoitto is to be avoided if his hair is in a bun, Valo is very nice, Palo is really difficult for even Sielu to keep up with, and all three of them are best friends, he moves on without mentioning what their positions are.

"... And then there's Revon. I'm still not really sure whether I can first-name him yet and I'm still sticking to Eversti Tulet for now, but he's really not as scary as he looks at first. He's tall and he loves Pilvi. Like a lot. And really that's all you've got to know about him. You'll see a lot of him this week and good luck getting him to say much. I think he's depressed or something. I dunno. Maybe he's tired? He needs a chair. I'm gonna get a chair for him. Imagine standing all the time. That's got to be awful. Oh - and Taivas, he's cool. We like Taivas. He's also tired. So is Safiirin, but honestly I haven't gotten around to talking much to her yet compared to Revon. Uhh... Pilvi's... probably around here somewhere? I've already told you he's cute. Brace yourself for him. Revon will be beside him, almost guaranteed, so just look for a really tall guy -" He floats upwards to where the Knight usually stands. "- with green hair and really pretty horns. They're also green. He's like... bright green, too - he can join the neon highlighter club with us."

#sing a round of love ; answered. #meme ; relationship building #[ revon loves 1 puff ] #topic ; revon #r ; silence still speaks volumes [ revon ]

[aquaticsoul]

Revon of @shiroi---kumo has a statement:

He's busy plucking the string of his harp as instructed, careful to breathe his Mist out slowly as he does so. Opettaja has given him a new piece to play and he's trying to master it one day at a time.

So it's not unusual that pink eyes are catching the blue that are watching the boy.

"He's been practicing like this every night." The Knight remarks quietly to the smaller man. "He's determined to master this new piece you've given him so he plays like this for hours or until I tell him to stop so he can rebuild his Mist. I don't know what it is about this one that has him so infatuated with it, but he is."

There is a smile hidden on the lips of the green haired man.

"Part of me thinks it's his deep respect for you. He loves you Sielu, you know that right? He just wants you to be proud of him."

Unprompted || ACCEPTING

His head lifts so he can look up at the knight when he's spoken to.

It's good to hear Pilvi is practicing outside lesson times. It's even better that it's a piece Sielu wrote himself specifically for Pilvi.

"I know he does. And I am proud of him, I mean...

"... just look at him go. He's such a cool kid, isn't he Revon? I love him."

#sing a round of love ; answered. #hey ho nobody home ; queue. #topic ; music #topic ; pilvi #topic ; revon #askbox ; unprompted #r ; silence still speaks volumes [ revon ] #r ; maamuna [ pilvi ] #arc ; sing dear bird (misterica)

[aquaticsoul]

The Soul Never Sleeps

Sielu's being reckless again, and no one seems to be awake to stop him.

CWs: Self-hatred, blood (metaphor), death, and grief.

This is stupid.

That's what it is.

Fucking stupid. He'd rather be locked up in a room with Sitriini Sinfonia than this.

Anger isn't an uncommon emotion these days, but it isn't one he dares express due to how often it's overridden by wave after wave of other feelings. Eroded, like rocks into sand by the ocean's gentle persistance.

Right now, though, is different.

Right now, he's livid. He is just angry. Plain and simple as that: he's pissed off.

Everything in him is yelling at him to punch something or somebody, but he's caused too much violence in his life to actually follow through.

If his soul has been storming, it's given way to a hurricane now and it's all because of a single, stupid, awful, exhausting phrase that he keeps hearing in his mind on a constant loop. It's a round, ongoing and ceaseless without any true end, but unlike the ones that are enjoyable, this one is made up of soured notes that do not fit nicely into the song that comes out of strangled voices and broken instruments.

Still, the songbird is ever quiet, his glare directed at the ground. The only thing below him is the only thing he feels safe to consistently glare at.

We'll find you.

They keep promising it. And he knows he is supposed to be comforted, but it's starting to grate on his nerves.

We'll find you.

His mind goes one of two places. It depends on the day.

Or night, in this case.

One is that he wants desperately to be found.

The other - the one he feels now - is that he's right here already.

He's right here on the floor, suffering but right here regardless. He's just missing some pieces. A lot of pieces, but he is here - those pieces are what they are looking for.

There's no way for them to find something that's just gone.

But they think there is. They are so naïve to think that he'll ever be his old self again exactly.

They see him now as somebody who can just be fixed in some magical way they can discover later. They see his suffering as something that can be untied and released.

Aamunkoitto is the only one even close to acknowledging everything he's endured, and yet somehow he uses the phrase the most often.

He's trying to meet the other three where they are. Honestly, he is - he loves them so dearly.

But it just gets shut down every time in some way. It gets minimized.

He can't even be angry at them. No, he's angry right now at himself for being so entitled. How can he get mad at them when he's the issue, when he's the one who failed to hold all the glass of his soul together even as it shattered and sliced through his skin?

How can he get mad at them when it's him that's a failure, him that let the blood run down his hands as he dropped the breaking heart?

It is him that approached Valo, him that dared to open his mouth to burden them with even a microscopic fraction of his own troubles, him that didn't just keep moving.

Of course no one would want much to do with him. They have their own troubles to deal with. He's made it all worse, so shutting him up just makes sense.

He just... doesn't want it to be that way, either. He wants to be exactly perfect, he wants to be something they remember.

He simply can't, though. And they dislike him for it. And that's fine. That's their right.

Anyone can dislike anything, and whatever sort of thing he's been made into is so frustrating to deal with that it only feels natural they'd hate him.

He's frustrated with himself too.

The anger is boiling tonight, but it has no place to go.

No one will hear him no matter how much he desperately wants them to.

The songbird sings no more, for there is not a single soul other than its own who could understand its tune.

And its own has been torn apart.

Two people, each holding the very same Mist, the same soul divided into halves - one dies. One is gone.

Perhaps maybe that other half is what the others are looking to find. They don't realize what's happened and they're just lugging around dead weight anyway until something happens. It's pointless.

Finally, his anger fuels him to move. They don't need this added onto their issues.

They're better off without him. One less body to worry about, especially given the fact it seems like they don't really want him around anyway.

His body rises almost of its own accord, leaving the room of the inn behind. Flying is not possible for very long, nor is walking, but he can at least get far enough for them to assume him dead or something of the sort.

The main door to the entrance of the building squeaks a little when it opens, and he does not even have time to close it behind him before he's met with a gust of wind that sends a smothering number of dead leaves directly at him.

For a moment, it just makes him angrier, but the night is calm, the wind gone just as fast as it appeared.

The leaves fall to the ground around his feet, though the one that had been impaled on the very tip of his left horn tells him all he needs to know about this deliberate action.

With a sigh that's heavy enough to hurt given the state of his lungs, he pulls it off and stares at it. What a terrible gift.

Still, he tucks it into his pocket as he turns to go back inside.

"... I still hate it when you're like that, Sydän."

#blood tw #death tw #grief tw #r ; double the blessings [ sydän / shiroi---kumo ] #r ; there's always starlight [ valo ] #r ; beast of the dawn [ aamunkoitto ] #r ; silence still speaks volumes [ revon ] #arc ; 9 years passed without me (post escape) #happiness in c major ; mun's writing

[aquaticsoul]

tag dump: relationships & verses.

#r ; the image of evil itself [ herba ] #v ; a place where time is stored (conton) #r ; double the blessings [ sydän / shiroi---kumo ] #r ; there's always starlight [ valo ] #r ; beast of the dawn [ aamunkoitto ] #r ; silence still speaks volumes [ revon ] #r ; maamuna [ pilvi ] #arc ; sing dear bird (misterica) #arc ; the world stopped spinning (after the fall) #arc ; 9 years passed without me (post escape)