[ caelus. that's his name. that's who he chose to be. blazing his way through the pageant path hasn't been easy. there were times he didn't sleep for days. there were countless journeys from location to location, each with a new challenge to undertake. every time, caelus meant to be a ray of starshine breaking through the darkness.
this is terrifying, bro. this is the moment it has all come down to. caelus a step away from the crown, told all he has to do is make up for a past sin. all he needs is to show he won't ever hurt someone he cares for again. his memories swim but the current remains terribly strong. ]
Everyone's watching?
[ he asks the voice. he asks the audience. everyone look here. ]
Once more, my name is Caelus. I hope you enjoy what you see.
[ and he jams the blade right into his left eye, tears it out, and goes again. oh, he's screaming, like he's about to explode as the pain is wicked and white hot and not enough. the face he'd smashed was completely unrecognizable when he was done with it. this isn't penance.
more blood. more damage.
he goes for the right eye. the sound is wet. a sharp piercing into tender jelly. he's screaming so loud but he won't let anyone be disappointed in his performance. ]
everyone is on their feet, clapping enthusiastically, and it only becomes more and more energized with each stab. the sound echoes all over, until even his hands are vibrating with the energy of their love and adoration of him.
(they might also be vibrating from the force of driving the blade in, but let's not focus on that.)
when, finally, what's left of his eyes are just a bloody mess, he will be left with a sense of pride and victory, because this is what he came here for. to prove, without a doubt, he was better. he deserved to win. he still does. he cannot see the audience anymore, but they can see him and his entirety. ]
Congratulations, Caelus. You won.
[ he can feel something being placed on top of his head. something draped over his shoulders. the knife is taken from him, replaced by something-- he has won enough of these to know that it's a bouquet of flowers.
but he's bleeding, and the pain is there, intense, burning. ]
[ applause that sounds as if it's coming to him through a cream-based soup but even that muffled noise is all he exists for. the knife drops from his hands, sloppy from sharp tip to past where his hand covered the hilt. the gore was plenty.
caelus doesn't want to die.
he wins. he can't see anything and he feels like he's about to lose that spinach dip all over his nice shoes. but he won. as always, he didn't hesitate to hem and haw over what he deserved, what was the right thing to do. the moral clarity he's always had took hold of the situation.
that's why he's a champion.
he falls to his knees. heavy is the crown. burdensome is the sash. yet he hugs the flowers tight to his chest, breathing in their scent with stuttering, miserable in- and ex-hales.
this makes it okay, right? what he did with his bat to that friend of his? now he can't hurt anyone again.
something heavy and continuous flows out of his mangled eye sockets. blood. tears. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cw: eye stuff!
this is terrifying, bro. this is the moment it has all come down to. caelus a step away from the crown, told all he has to do is make up for a past sin. all he needs is to show he won't ever hurt someone he cares for again. his memories swim but the current remains terribly strong. ]
Everyone's watching?
[ he asks the voice. he asks the audience. everyone look here. ]
Once more, my name is Caelus. I hope you enjoy what you see.
[ and he jams the blade right into his left eye, tears it out, and goes again. oh, he's screaming, like he's about to explode as the pain is wicked and white hot and not enough. the face he'd smashed was completely unrecognizable when he was done with it. this isn't penance.
more blood. more damage.
he goes for the right eye. the sound is wet. a sharp piercing into tender jelly. he's screaming so loud but he won't let anyone be disappointed in his performance. ]
cw eye stuff
everyone is on their feet, clapping enthusiastically, and it only becomes more and more energized with each stab. the sound echoes all over, until even his hands are vibrating with the energy of their love and adoration of him.
(they might also be vibrating from the force of driving the blade in, but let's not focus on that.)
when, finally, what's left of his eyes are just a bloody mess, he will be left with a sense of pride and victory, because this is what he came here for. to prove, without a doubt, he was better. he deserved to win. he still does. he cannot see the audience anymore, but they can see him and his entirety. ]
Congratulations, Caelus. You won.
[ he can feel something being placed on top of his head. something draped over his shoulders. the knife is taken from him, replaced by something-- he has won enough of these to know that it's a bouquet of flowers.
but he's bleeding, and the pain is there, intense, burning. ]
cw: eye stuff
caelus doesn't want to die.
he wins. he can't see anything and he feels like he's about to lose that spinach dip all over his nice shoes. but he won. as always, he didn't hesitate to hem and haw over what he deserved, what was the right thing to do. the moral clarity he's always had took hold of the situation.
that's why he's a champion.
he falls to his knees. heavy is the crown. burdensome is the sash. yet he hugs the flowers tight to his chest, breathing in their scent with stuttering, miserable in- and ex-hales.
this makes it okay, right? what he did with his bat to that friend of his? now he can't hurt anyone again.
something heavy and continuous flows out of his mangled eye sockets. blood. tears. ]