"...And a coat of many colors." ~85% Writeblr, 15% RP blog~ RPing only a handful of muses, and the will to RP wanes and ebbs, so bare with if i owe you a response! Icon made in Picrew; Art by Sangled
Basically, mostly redoing the blog to be more RP and OC Writing-centric, since that's mostly what i do best and it's always been just more of a hobby and comfort. Even from a young age, when i first discovered Tumblr.
(Fun fact of the eve: I actually discovered Tumblr in roughly 2012, and didn't join until two years later; all because i discovered a WIR RP blog that i just fell in love with the writing and the character's being played. It actually inspired me to start RPing (even if i wasn't...really any good at it, at first. Sorry for those who had to put up with my BS during then. Times...weren't good, then.)
Hope to see y'all there! I'll be doing more final moving here, but i will be changing the names of both the sideblog and this one so that they are available for use by other users who wanna put 'em to good use.
Until then, i'll be futzing about, getting things together for the new blog since everything there, until further announce: is under very heavy construction, and replies will be on-hold until a good chunk of it is done.
Basically, mostly redoing the blog to be more RP and OC Writing-centric, since that's mostly what i do best and it's always been just more of a hobby and comfort. Even from a young age, when i first discovered Tumblr.
(Fun fact of the eve: I actually discovered Tumblr in roughly 2012, and didn't join until two years later; all because i discovered a WIR RP blog that i just fell in love with the writing and the character's being played. It actually inspired me to start RPing (even if i wasn't...really any good at it, at first. Sorry for those who had to put up with my BS during then. Times...weren't good, then.)
Hope to see y'all there! I'll be doing more final moving here, but i will be changing the names of both the sideblog and this one so that they are available for use by other users who wanna put 'em to good use.
Until then, i'll be futzing about, getting things together for the new blog since everything there, until further announce: is under very heavy construction, and replies will be on-hold until a good chunk of it is done.
Basically, mostly redoing the blog to be more RP and OC Writing-centric, since that's mostly what i do best and it's always been just more of a hobby and comfort. Even from a young age, when i first discovered Tumblr.
(Fun fact of the eve: I actually discovered Tumblr in roughly 2012, and didn't join until two years later; all because i discovered a WIR RP blog that i just fell in love with the writing and the character's being played. It actually inspired me to start RPing (even if i wasn't...really any good at it, at first. Sorry for those who had to put up with my BS during then. Times...weren't good, then.)
Hope to see y'all there! I'll be doing more final moving here, but i will be changing the names of both the sideblog and this one so that they are available for use by other users who wanna put 'em to good use.
Until then, i'll be futzing about, getting things together for the new blog since everything there, until further announce: is under very heavy construction, and replies will be on-hold until a good chunk of it is done.
Basically, mostly redoing the blog to be more RP and OC Writing-centric, since that's mostly what i do best and it's always been just more of a hobby and comfort. Even from a young age, when i first discovered Tumblr.
(Fun fact of the eve: I actually discovered Tumblr in roughly 2012, and didn't join until two years later; all because i discovered a WIR RP blog that i just fell in love with the writing and the character's being played. It actually inspired me to start RPing (even if i wasn't...really any good at it, at first. Sorry for those who had to put up with my BS during then. Times...weren't good, then.)
Hope to see y'all there! I'll be doing more final moving here, but i will be changing the names of both the sideblog and this one so that they are available for use by other users who wanna put 'em to good use.
Until then, i'll be futzing about, getting things together for the new blog since everything there, until further announce: is under very heavy construction, and replies will be on-hold until a good chunk of it is done.
Basically, mostly redoing the blog to be more RP and OC Writing-centric, since that's mostly what i do best and it's always been just more of a hobby and comfort. Even from a young age, when i first discovered Tumblr.
(Fun fact of the eve: I actually discovered Tumblr in roughly 2012, and didn't join until two years later; all because i discovered a WIR RP blog that i just fell in love with the writing and the character's being played. It actually inspired me to start RPing (even if i wasn't...really any good at it, at first. Sorry for those who had to put up with my BS during then. Times...weren't good, then.)
Hope to see y'all there! I'll be doing more final moving here, but i will be changing the names of both the sideblog and this one so that they are available for use by other users who wanna put 'em to good use.
Until then, i'll be futzing about, getting things together for the new blog since everything there, until further announce: is under very heavy construction, and replies will be on-hold until a good chunk of it is done.
So...I've thought about it, and just... I'm probably gonna be deleting this blog and starting afresh. New blogs probably gonna be more RP, writing, and character information based, if anything.
Maybe. I don't know.
I do want this to work...but i might not use blaze to do it. If all that's gonna be inferred that 'i'm forcing people to read my writing', then fuck it. I'll do this the old-fashioned way: by just not giving up until something gains traction on this hellsite.
So, yeah. Gonna give it a few days as i tie loose ends on this blog.
...Yeah, i think I'm...gonna take a break from Tumblr for a bit. Not when I'll be back, be that in the form of a new blog or redoing this one (if at all).
Sorry for the disappointment and sorry for being annoying, to those I've already irritated.
you are forcing your writing on random ppl who don't follow you and 99% of them have no idea who you're talking about and you think you have the right to complain when ppl are less than pleased about it?
;;--
...I mean, i could say that in regards to a majority of blazed posts but i don't. I mean, i get where you're coming from and i don't disagree with you, but i don't agree that I'm forcing people to read my writing.
You can just?? Not read it?? Like you could just skip over it and go about your business?
When i blaze something, I'm not forcing you to read it. It's not like I'm holding a gun to your head and saying, "Read it."
...At this point, I'm...getting really tempted to just abandon this Tumblr. Maybe I'll go somewhere else, i don't know yet.
But yeah. I'm not making y'all do anything. Don't wanna read it? Just browse on. Plain and simple.
Because i wanted to blaze my writings? I mean, i do the same with my head canons and OC lore because it's a way to get some context on the characters out. Being like, hey, wanna learn more about these OCs? Here's some trivia!
(A/N - Sorry about the wait! As sort of promised, the next part is up! Limbo is one of the first rings of Hell and where those who haven't lived virtuously, but haven't sinned in their life, go. And thus, is where Celeste and Icarus meet their guide. Originally, fun fact: Celeste was originally going to be the guide to Lucifer. But in this, it's been changed because i feel like that'd be too easy...although in this version, without spoiling much...let's just say their guide isn't all she seems to be.)
Wandering the hazy forest, Icarus aimlessly drifted from tree to tree, unsure of where he was even going.
It surprised him that the Horseman that wandered through these dreary woods hadn’t caught him yet to take him to Charon, where at the Acheron’s end, he’d meet King Minos and they would assign his ring to him. And even if he did...Icarus only prayed that whatever ring was more merciful than the one he found himself in.
Even with his sight as horrid as it was, Icarus could still tell it was foggy and overcast, as if it could rain at any moment—but all time felt frozen. There was no night nor day, not even a single change in the weather. Everything just felt...stagnant.
It wasn’t until he’d heard footsteps coming towards his direction that his reflexes took over. He bolted back further into the forest to escape whomever it was who’d spotted him.
Was it one of them?
The Horseman?
Something ELSE?
The smell of germanium and wet earth filled his nose, lightly comforting him...but not enough to dare let his guard down. For all he very well knew, it may have been a demon masking itself to him to make him come closer, under the guise that they were benevolent and harmless, or as much of one that a sinner could be.
He rounded behind a looming pine tree and pressed his back flush to the trunk to hide and stay out of sight.
Then he heard a name. A woman’s voice...and one he recognized well enough. As happy as he was to see her in The Crossroads, it also concerned him, to where it terrified him.
How did she, of all people, get here?
Yes, he was aware of the magic she possessed, but to have done something as extreme as this blew him away. She really did all this for him...? It was touching—to know that he was that important to a woman who was born well beyond his time. The meeting was by chance, as with a talking board, as when the person using it calls out the titular “Is anyone here?”, they are soon to follow.
Any shade can hear it, and usually it comes as a vague sibilant whisper. But, the nature of the shade that answers the call is what can end in either horrible things happening to the one holding the ritual or ending on a good note.
“Icarus...? Icarus! Are you here?”, Celeste’s voice was faint, but he would’ve known it from anywhere. A rich, sweet alto that if it had a taste, it would be of smooth dark chocolate.
He drew a breath...and then stepped from behind the tree, expecting a female demon or a mimic that had found him, and wanted to rip him bit by bit. It wouldn’t kill him; not like how he was. It would only bring him back in further pain, but no wound to prove the attack.
Instead of either or, in the distance and walking towards him from the haze of both his failing sight and the foggy thicket, the woman calling for him was indeed there.
He still felt as if he had to look up to view her, despite not even knowing fully what she looked like. She was tall, roughly about 6 foot, with the stride of a proud Queen. Even if detail meant nothing to him, he was sure if he had his sight, he might be able to appreciate her appearance more—but he was content.
When Celeste had seen him, her pace picked up to almost nearly running towards him in excitement. However, she remained cautious, since even in The Crossroads—she could still be killed by a rogue shade or one of the Guardians of the Whispering Tree. If she died in The Crossroads, being trapped in Hell was inevitable...
“Icarus! Well, that was quite simple enough, ah? Come along...you’ll soon be free. For if what i understand from The Black Queen is correct...i may be able t’ reason wi’ Th’ King himself t’ have him let ye come back wi’ me. Won’t you...?”
A silence befell the man. Come...back with her? She could do that? If it meant being alive once more and getting the chance he never in centuries believed he’d get, then her offer sounded like a dream come true. However, it was also too good to be true...as from listening to The Guardians, there were set rules in Hell to keep the sinners where they so rightfully belong and prevent all-out chaos from ensuing.
For starters, if a sinner was assigned a circle, they could never leave it. Well, technically, they could...but they were then never allowed to return to the circle they came from. So, if someone from the Circle of Lust went to the Ring of Envy, then they were doomed to wander there until the end of days.
So, as much as he desired to follow her...would heading to unfamiliar areas of Hell be worth the freedom? As simple as that answer may have been, one had to consider the place they were in at the moment. In Hell, it was survival of the fittest; only the strongest survive, and most respect was towards those who had enough wits and strength to survive the fray of Sinners and Hell-Born alike.
“...Alright. But...won’t you...i don’t know...need a guide? Someone who knows the way of the land more than us?”
“I assume we’ll meet them in Limbo. After all...those who ‘ave led a good life, but ‘ave not been baptized go there. But after...we ‘ave t’ cross th’ River Acheron t’ reach our first stop, an’ i don’ think The Ol’ Man o’ th’ River’s gonna be too happy wi’ this. Yer dead, an’...i’m not...”
The ‘Old Man’ that Celeste referred to was none other than the Ferryman, Charon, who appeared to most as a decrepit old man in tattered black robes and the hood covering his face. The only reason for this was to prevent shades from properly viewing his face as to prevent those from going insane.
His role in Limbo was to bring those who enter Hell to Minos, who would then decide the fate of the shade in question after having confessed their sins.
However, in order for him to even willingly ferry someone, they had to be dead first. And so, while he’d gladly take the likes of Icarus...he’d refuse Celeste passage onto his boat immediately. So, it would take either a lot of convincing on her behalf to let him...or perhaps getting Mercedes’s name involved. After all, who else would he listen to but she who was closest to Lucifer himself?
Well...there was only one way to find out...
“Right...so...how...how is this even possible? This is incredible! A living mortal, here, in theaAfterlife!”
Celeste only smiled, “A sweet, lil lady called ‘The Black Queen’...once we get to th’ surface, i’ll let ye meet ‘er. Makes th’ best damn empanadas ye ever ‘ad.”
The Black Queen...
Why did that sound so familiar...?
Icarus soon followed her lead, weaving in and out of the woods with her. He was impressed that she even knew the path with ease. Normally, most shades were lost within the first few moments of wandering The Crossroads, and in all fairness, one couldn’t stay within one spot for long with the chance of being caught and taken through Limbo and to King Minos to be sent to their ring.
Some, as he found out, simply have the luck of the Gods and can stay in The Crossroads indefinitely, as long as they divagate from place to place. Further and further away from where they last stayed...
The more they explored forward, the sparser the trees became, until eventually, it was nothing but a grassy open space with a gray and overcast sky. It was melancholy, but peaceful all at once. It was almost...relaxing, but it felt off. For as much as Cel wanted to believe, they were completely alone in this place, seeing a few other shades aimlessly walking about. Some would even sit about, either enjoying the cool atmosphere or talking amongst the undead shades that roamed among them.
It felt welcoming, like walking into a park on a near temperate day.
Some shades would look at her, if for a moment, but after would pay her no mind.
It only felt like only 15 minutes had passed, and already, they were in Limbo...?
Then again, there was no telling how long Celeste had wandered to get to Icarus, so it actually could’ve been well over some hours.
Now, where was this guide...—?
“Exaudi nos...exaudi orationem nostram...et tu nos ad salutem dirigis.”
(Hear us...hear our prayer...and may you guide us to salvation...grant us safe passage into purgatory, oh god...)
...Suddenly, a tiny voice filled Icarus’s ears, praying softly in a language he knew well. It was beautiful, but he strangely felt uncomfortable, being now able to hear someone’s conversation with the being that was likely responsible for having her sent there. It felt like he was intruding somehow, and he shuffled uncomfortably where he stood.
“Is...somethin’ wrong, Icarus? What’s—”
“...Educ nos in salutem, ut perveniamus purgatorium...”
(...Lead us forth into salvation, so that we may reach purgatory...)
The voice soon registered to Celeste as soon as she’d ask. She bristled up, listening intently and looking for the source of the voice. A soft-spoken female voice...speaking the Lord’s language as if she’d known it her entire life, until the hour of her death. It was sweet, with the prayer she spoke reflecting this.
“...That must be them. Huh...didn’t expect someone o’ holy faith leadin’ us, but...makes sense. C’mon, lovey...she can’t be too far now—OI!”
As Celeste took a few steps forward, she felt something catch on her foot and she came tumbling down unceremoniously to the grass. She let out a yell, and as did another shade, it seemed—only further implying that it was a praying, repentant soul speaking to someone. Someone who would likely never hear them...
She landed face-first in the grass, throwing her arms out to catch herself and break her fall onto the dew-soaked ground.
“Ooh...Figlio di puttana, fa male...”
(Ooh...Motherfucker, that hurts...)
Celeste hissed in Italian, while the other female groaned and growled in Latin. Preparing herself for the consequences and wrath of an angry, religious shade having been interrupted during her prayer, she readied a small bolt of crackling energy. It sparked and crackled, as if surrounded by lightning.
She turned about and before she could let the orb explode and arc forth, Celeste stopped herself midway into the maneuver. Before her was a confused and rightfully terrified young woman, sitting up with her arm shielding her face to prevent being hit. As if just her hands would stop a Godbolt, even if it was at the lowest frequency Celeste could manage without severely injuring her.
“Pl-please—! Please, don’t! I-I mean you no harm! Please! Have mercy!”, she cried, voice cracking softly, as if she might cry.
Part of Celeste wanted to smite the woman, mostly out of the simple mistrust Mercedes had instilled into her prior to entering.
After all, this was Hell. And in Hell, the weak were only fodder for the Assimilator, doomed to repeat the cycle of torment and damnation.
The Sinners, as far as she knew, would only use her in any shape or way they could go get further along or higher in the hierarchy. And the woman before her, she wanted to assume, would be no different. She appeared to be a nun, or rather likely was one (which one, however, Celeste didn’t know), in life. She had the long, black and white robes, sans the headdress that a nun was known for. But what interested Celeste the most out of the woman’s appearance were a pair of limp, white wings that sprouted from her upper back. They appeared useless, broken even, so for her to fly was a thing of the past, it seemed.
Her hair hung in dusty blonde waves about a pale, tear-stained face. She wasn’t ugly, as Celeste expected out of a demonic sinner—which would’ve likely been twisted, horrid features. Instead, she looked just as human as any young woman she’d see in her bar.
Full, cracked lips trembled and those pleading, yet oddly bright pink eyes with reddened scleras continued to stare straight back at her.
“Are...are you th’ one The Black Queen sent us t’ see? She said somethin’ about a guide, an’ we need ye t’ answer us honestly...if that’s even possible ‘ere.”, the last part was mumbled low so that she couldn’t hear it.
The shade stared back, baffled by what she was asking her. A...a guide? She couldn’t be serious, right? She wanted to smile at this...but somehow; she knew the woman was actually being dead serious, if that sudden bolt of magic was much to go by.
“...Lower your arms...i say this for your sake.”
Celeste growled, narrowing her eyes warily. “Oh? An’ why so? So y’ don’t just—”
“N-no! Um...you’re...you’re drawing a crowd, miss. No one here will harm you; Limbo is a part of Hell, yes…but i assure, no one will hurt you here. This is merely a place of waiting…nothing more.”
She suddenly perked up. The shade was correct; a small congregation of shades flocked to the spectacle she was making out of the entire thing. Celeste looked about at all the poets and philosophers who were watching the scene, waiting to swarm her if she so much as attacked the helpless shade.
And they would’ve all been within their right to do it, for she was within their domain.
Celeste huffed, allowing the energy in her hands that she’d accumulated to dissipate.
“Fine...now...i’ll ask again. Are you th’ one The Black Queen sent us t’ see? I ‘ave strict permission by ‘er t’ enter here for th’ purpose o’ reachin’ Cocytus at Hell’s end. I need t’ speak t’ with Lucifer.”
“...I am. Lena Nemora, at your service, ma’am. You...you must be Celeste, right? And this...this is Mr. Icarus Whateley...”, with a bow, her gaze flicked up and looked between the two, skimming them over. The glint in those light rose hues told Celeste she was contemplating what to say next; it was like she hadn’t precedented this and didn’t entirely know how to go about her next choice of actions.
It made Celeste question if this girl had ever done this type of work...
Although, she would make judgment as they went. For a tiny, waifish, possibly unbaptized nun, maybe she had her own charm and abilities that she wasn’t seeing yet. It was hypothetical, if the aura she gave off and magical energy surrounding her told her.
“...Lena, was it? Lead th’ way, dear...i trust ye know yer way ‘bout Hell, no? Or ‘ave some knowledge of the Rings an’ their inhabitants?”
“Absolutely...well, i’ve never been outside of this Ring. None of us have...but the poets and church members who dwell about these parts know about the different areas, some better than most...so i know as well as if i’ve been there.”, she explained, quickly rising to her full height and quickly taking Celeste by the hand to follow her. As soon as her frigid, but soft hand entwined with hers, the shock of magic that hit her like a connected circuit was nearly enough to make her rip her hand away from Lena’s sudden grip.
It was nothing like she’d ever sensed before. Some type of magic ran through the shade’s body like blood in her veins. Though what it was, Celeste couldn’t exactly pinpoint.
Earth? Heaven? Hell?
Still...part of her couldn’t be too angry by the sudden touch, as she seemed pretty willing to help her with the endeavor to free Icarus’s soul from the afterlife.
She couldn’t have been too bad, right?
Celeste peered behind her, only to see an equally amused, bewildered Icarus following the footsteps of both women deeper into Limbo.
“One rule I should probably state first, as if it wasn’t already pretty obvious...stay close to me. To get lost in Hell is a wonderful way for demons and sinners to take claim of you or worse. And, in Hell, it can always get worse...demons are creative with their punishments and tortures.”
“Oh, you needn’t tell me twice...we ‘ave a friend on th’ surface who’s a fury, an’ when tha’ man ain’t hidin’ out in his house from th’ rest o’ the world...let’s jus’ say Ol’ Nemesis picked her way of th’ fruit well.”
“Hm~...The Furies are...very temperamental beings, but it suits their job in the Ring of Wrath. Deities of vengeance and retribution...but curiously, I’ve actually never heard of a male fury! Most I’ve seen are female, but i suppose if a curse was involved, it’s actually understandable...”
Celeste flinched at this, not even daring to actually tell her that Lex had been cursed and it resulted in him becoming what he was now. It didn’t feel like her business to state, even if Lena was only in her presence for a temporary amount of time and she’d never see her again after the journey’s completion.
“Right...so what about Charon? What’s your plan for ‘im?”
Icarus chimed in, “Yes...surely, you’d be able to convince him to grant us passage across the river, right? If as i recall is correct…he’ll only grant passage to those who have died. After all, my mother told me stories of how they would in some areas of her home: place coins onto the eyes of the dead so that they may pay the Riverman…though, i am not certain if this is still very much the same…”
“I’m sure...after all, with The Black Queen as your witness, i’m certain if i just explain to him she assigned me as your guide and that she’s allowing you to do this...he’ll allow it. The Old Man of Acheron may be stern and pretty grouchy, but he’s a pretty reasonable soul. Fair, even.”, Lena explained with a beaming smile, not even bothering to look back at the one she was practically dragging along and who was so desperately trying to keep up with her.
At Acheron’s shore, the grassy plain cut off to a sandy, shallow lake—where the water was black as ore and appeared to extend for miles out into the distance. There, pulling up to the shore, was the gnarled boat made of twisted tree bark and human bones. Celeste gawked at the boat for what felt like a while as Lena led them closer to it.
For as much as Charon’s ‘ferry’ was described in literature, text did nothing to give it justice. It was the size of a large coble, but it appeared to be made of a strange, wooden texture. One that if Celeste ran her hand on, she would probably be greeted to what a wet tree or damp driftwood felt like.
And there, at the starboard beam, was the same man all three had been told about.
He definitely wasn’t called The Old Man of Acheron for nothing. From the nose down, Celeste could make out the jaw and mouth of an old man in his late 70s. Wrinkled and unseemly, his entire body was covered from head to toe in robes. He couldn’t even see them (or maybe he didn’t need to; it was hard to say since everything about him was a mystery), but the minute their feet stepped upon the white sand, he froze.
By how his shoulders tense and what little they could see of his face twisted into a scowl, Celeste knew already this displeased him.
-You’re absolutely joking, yes? Let this woman come back to me once her time has come; she walks, and she breathes, so i cannot allow her onto this boat! Why have you brought her to me when you know full well the rules of Hell?!-, he barked a cold laugh.
Lena instinctively pushed Celeste behind her, looking back at the woman as if to tell her, ‘Don’t worry’ in silence. “It is of The Black Queen’s will that I guide them through Hell to see The Morningstar. Please, i implore of you, let us go!”
-Hmph...The Black Queen, was it? I know that name...her husband was to be yet another soul in this infernal hole. Do you really believe that i would believe that The Lady of Bats and She With Hands Most Deft has granted you entry into the Lands of Perdition?-
The small female shade stood silent, annoyed and thoroughly disgusted by this. She let out a defiant snort, as if she were trying to size up the cloaked man at the starboard bow of the boat. “To deny me and my companions access would be unwise, old man. Need i remind you that to refuse an order of The Black Queen is a fate most a soul with common sense dare not to see?”
For the briefest moment...he saw a quick yet bright flaming glint flash in the holy woman’s eyes. It startled him for a moment, nearly forcing him to let go of the long oar he held in his bony, pallid hands, before he composed himself before the three travelers.
A smirk then curled at his thin lips, as if he’d figured something out that the two foreigners of the Underworld never dared to conceive, but only Charon himself could see.
-You...all this time, i...i should’ve known it was...hehehe...no matter. Even should i let you, The Witch and the shade she holds so dear will never escape Hell alive. Most never do, for they give into their indulgences and sinful delights long before they see Lucifer’s throne room in Cocytus.-
“Maybe so...but i think we’re well capable o’ breakin’ the cycle, Charon.”
-Arrogant wrench, i see...that will be your downfall. But enough talk...all aboard.-
Raising out his skeletal hand, he beckoned the three forward to board passage upon the vessel, filled with other souls. Lena’s expression softened, but the shift in Charon’s demeanor and sudden willingness to let them on, even though he’d previously stated that he’d not allow a living soul to enter.
Celeste looked from Charon, then back to Lena, baffled by this swift change in the ferryman’s demeanor.
...What did she do...?
And then there was what Charon said before speaking to her. About Lena...did he...know her? He had to have, judging by his statement.
‘You...all this time, i...i should’ve known it was...’
He almost didn’t want to seem to finish that, for fear if he said her name, it would invoke something more than a bloody, violent massacre on the river Acheron.
Yet, Celeste wondered...what did he know about the woman that they didn’t?
Did she even want to know?
Jarred from her internal questioning of the situation, Lena’s voice broke the silence.
“Celeste! Are you coming or what? ‘Less you want to swim to the Lust ring, and i’m pretty certain that you’d be dragged under by the souls that live in the lake before you ever got there. They’re always lonely and looking for more to add to the chorus of shades that live in the blackened depths...if they don’t get you, the aging effects of the lake will. Like a reverse Fountain of Youth.”
And sadly, Lena was correct.
If the Lake of Souls didn’t drag her under, then the cursed waters would’ve had her nothing but a skinned skeleton by the shores of the Lust Ring. Celeste had only heard of horror stories from both Mercedes and Lucinda about the many fools who had tried this foolhardy trick, only to be dragged into the waters and stripped of their soul or become so old that they couldn’t continue the journey, thus demons and sinners alike would have their pick of them...or worse, they’d be nothing but bones and dust.
She’d even heard of one where Charon had found one swimming to the Lust Ring, only to realize his mistake and try to turn around back...and upon asking the Ferryman for help, all he received was a smile, then was passed by.
Something about it was simply so cruel...but alas, that was part of Charon’s job.
Those who were in the lake simply could not be fished out and would wither away.
Celeste was the last to board, which left her in between another shade, sitting listlessly, and Lena.
The boat drifted away from the shore, and thus, Limbo slowly became a foggy speck on the river until all that was left was soft mumbling (presumably the souls of the dead speaking to one another) and high-pitched, but even fainter screams coming from the waters of Acheron. The sound and the growing miasma of rot in the air were wearing on Celeste’s senses, as it was coming from all around her.
Lowering her head, she focused her gaze on the bottom of the craft, her hand sliding into her bag as if looking for something. It only took a few moments before relief washed over her when her clawed fingertips bumped into something soft. It felt like fleece in her hands, and she toyed with it, enjoying the texture and the light scent of clary sage and musk.
“...Looking for something there? Maybe i could help—?”
“Not. Necessary.”
The woman’s voice boomed and automatically, Celeste tensed up, her eyes flicking up towards the other feminine voice. The only thing in sight was Lena, who was stunned by the outright defensive nature. Rosy eyes looked from her to the black, over-the-shoulder purse-like bag Celeste carried with her since the beginning.
She wondered just what was so important in that bag that she could’ve reacted with all the offense and defense to fight her.
“...All you had to say was no. That would’ve been sufficient, too.”
Realizing what she’d done, she relaxed, but only slightly. “...My apologies, Len...tis a reflex. This bag is...important t’ me. It ‘as everything we’re gonna need; all we need is you t’ lead th’ way.”
“...I see. Then...what do you have for this journey?”
Dare she answer that?
For as hesitant as she was, she still wished to be friendly with the shade, who had done everything to get them from Limbo to their very first destination. “A spell book, rations, water, herbs, an’ two small weapons o’ my own. Nothin’ more than that. Needed t’ pack lightly; if we gotta make a break f’r it, then it’s needed.”
She didn’t dare explain about the fabric in the bag being used to keep her tethered to her senses and, therefor, sane. Somehow, telling Lena would’ve felt…unwise.
“Erm...l-ladies...!?”
It took Icarus’s meek, quiet question to get both women’s attention, and both were horrified by what they saw. While some shades were mild-mannered and still had their sanity about them, there were a few who had been there so long that all sense of sentience and humanity was completely gone. All that was left was a rogue being, filled with mania and animalistic want.
And what did they want? To consume the weaker and use them to grow stronger.
Thus was the case with Icarus, who was currently fighting being pulled into the port of the boat within the mass of souls that stood in a thick crowd.
Celeste’s eyes widened, and hands prickling with the surge of her own magic, she allowed a hand to extend with the palm outward. Upon noticing what she was about to do, Lena instinctively grabbed her to stop her.
“Are you INSANE? You’ll sink us all! Just let them—!”, before she could finish, she shrieked as Celeste summoned forth a massive arc of energy and...electricity?
A bluish-green light...but the force of the impending blast was enough to send her skidding back an inch back into their guide.
A god-bolt, a scion and—in this case—demigoddess’s most useful and powerful weapon, that at full power—had the potential to level an entire continent or multiple others. But, as a demigoddess and the Daughter of Ryujin, it was only halved. Half of what her father could do should have been him...
She had to be careful, however, since Lena was correct about one thing: one false move, and she would’ve actually destroyed the boat keeping them from being dragged under until the tar-colored waters. She knew, however, that a small zap wouldn’t be enough to take down manic shades. Most, without their sanity, could take quite the beating before going down. Those without their sanity and soul, were no better than zombies, whom had a very high threshold for pain. So, a medium-grade bolt would’ve sufficed. Likely a 25% would’ve sufficed for the moment…
The bolt of energy arced and raced into the sea of shades, and a chorus of cries rang out as all of them scrambled to get away from it. Some, as they were hit, screamed in agony as it sent them to the floor of the boat. Celeste did this several times until it satisfied her they were at a distance deemed ‘comfortable’. Even if that meant doing it 5 more times until they were cornered and absolutely still, unwilling to go even a single step forward...
The more sane were terrified out of their minds, while the animalistic and feral stared lifelessly, shaking or baring fangs. With ringing ears and a headache, Celeste snorted lightly, letting the magic from her hands crackle and flare in sharp pulses. Through blurry eyes, she watched Icarus scramble for dear life behind her like a shield.
“...An’ stay back. Animali del cazzo...tutti voi...”, She hissed lightly, legs buckling and weaken.
How long had it been since she’d done that? She wasn’t sure, but in a place like this, it definitely took a toll on her body. Her vision went to TV static and darkened until the last thing she possibly remembered hearing was Lena screaming her name...
(A/N - Hoooo boy. We finna be getting into the opening of this; beyond this point is proooobably gonna be the last warning: the following fi
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More updates on this series is soon to come throughout the new year! Until then, i'll be about. More posts, both related to TDDB and this blog, be they writing or RP-wise, will be drafted to keep up the activity here!*
*(Which, tbh...i need to do more often sksksksk. I'm sorry ;u; work and real life have been draining to me as of late and i keep forgetting about this blog.)
(A/N - Hoooo boy. We finna be getting into the opening of this; beyond this point is proooobably gonna be the last warning: the following fic will be containing themes not suitable for a younger audience. If you are under 18, do NOT fucking traverse any further. Seriously. Here there be nasty. Here there be NSFW. In the infamous words of The Inferno by Dante Aligheri, 'Abandon hope all ye who enter.'
But for now, enjoy the next installment of The Descent Down Below! I actually will be labelling the different rings after this point, for literally my sake and yours knowing.)
-3:29 am-
With the board set out in front of her once more, she felt silly for even fishing it out again to begin with. Maybe this was a waste of time, but she knew she'd feel no better until it was certain she could do it.
After all, how else would she know until she actually did it?
It only made sense!
Dressed in a long, silken champagne-colored nightgown that came to below the thigh, she made herself comfortable at the dining room table and straightened herself up.
"...Erm...Icarus? Icarus! Are...are you there? If you are...might you please give me a sign?"
At first, no response came from the near-blind man she'd just met during the seance. All that replied was the thin air in front of her. There was nothing...not at first.
It took another time of calling aloud his name before she eventually could get something back from him. A shiver of the air, the lights that barely illuminated the room flickered somewhat, as if to indicate the arrival of the phantom. While most would blame faulty wiring, Celeste knew for a fact this was not so much the case.
Ghost and spectral entities alike had a distinct aura to them—some benevolent...and others malignant. This, as well as the scent of the air, changed. The aroma was that of a young man's earthy cologne and sage, which was enough to comfort Celeste into believing that when Icarus’s name was called, the man in question answered her.
Still, all that remained was a deafening quiet over the room.
>I AM HERE.<
Her hands gently moved over the letters, guided by another pair that were no longer visible. The force behind them was gentle, but noticeable on her skin. Warm, but enough to make her feel more comfortable with the situation. It definitely felt like the hand of a man, and not that of an undead spirit.
Now...came for the part she dreaded having to do a second time around: pricking her hand for blood. Drawing the dagger from where she sat, she pressed the metal tip to her palm and let the blade sink into her skin, drawing dark blood once more. The liquid dribbled onto the glossy wood, lighting up the engraved letters, and as soon as her hand touched the board—it was as if a connection was made.
She could see him. Clear as day, standing at the table and staring back at her. The same eerie, visionless eyes that bore deep into hers...but they belonged to him and him alone. For all their beauty, part of Celeste felt horribly unnerved by them.
Why, she wasn't entirely certain of...but she could only hold eye contact with him for maybe a few moments before needing desperately to look away from him. However, it didn't matter how she tried to look away from him, as his eyes were completely on her. However, when she looked up at him again, it was clear that after the moment had passed after he’d been summoned and made visible to her…his confusion as to what he was doing there changed to being taken aback by what she was wearing.
"...I...woman, what are you WEARING? Of all things you choose to contact me in, you pick that?!"
Faint amusement befell her features. He couldn't have been serious, right?
She was certain that Icarus was blind, or rather legally blind—meaning he could see, but it wasn't like how she or anyone with 20/20 vision viewed the world around them. So, at the most, he could see shapes and outlines, but nothing more...so it may not have been too out of line to say he knew…
It likely made sense since it was about 3 in the morning, so she would've been dressed for bed...
"It's only a nightgown, love. Y' act as if i'm completely naked! And why would ye care anyway?! Surely, ye can't see it, right?"
The man scoffed, which further surprised her. He didn’t have this level of confidence or audacity before, so why now of all times? “Vaguely, but even still! It’s only the mere principle that i’m sitting before a—”
Celeste then slammed her hands on the table in frustration and anger, now having completely enough of the sudden impudence of the other. She let out a vaguely draconic snort, narrowing her eyes in his direction.
They glowed a vibrant shade of emerald, and she flashed her fangs at him.
She normally wouldn't have dared allow to show this to any other, but because Icarus was unlike any other (mainly because the man was dead), it wasn't entirely as though she cared much.
"Finish that sentence carefully…i guarantee ye if ye finish that sentence, ye ain’t gonna like what comes next of it…’cause i can and i WILL send ye straight back down into th’ depths of Tartarus."
With this, Icarus scrunched up in his place, staring back at the now semi-feral woman. Those words alone were enough to simmer the growing flame in him, and his mostly sightless eyes flicked away from her shamefully.
He sighed, letting himself shrink down in his seat.
"...I was going to say 'lady'..."
"Good choice, Mr. Icarus.", and thus, Celeste did as well, gesturing for the man to take a seat before her.
He did, pulling out the seat and sitting down before her. "So...with all that excitement out of th' way...might i offer anythin'? Tea? Wine, if that's what y' like? Anything at all? You are my guest in all'a this, i suppose it's right i make ye comfy while yer 'ere."
"No, ma'am. Thank you...i...apologize for that display. You'd be slightly disgruntled as well if you were summoned so suddenly on short notice. Like being awakened at an early hour of the morning..."
"But, of course.", she responded, "So...what was it that ye did in life?"
Icarus's eyes lit up with delight. "Spectrology and Mediumship. I studied in the paranormal and all it's workings, from harmless phantoms or poltergeists and their malignant counterparts alike; i dabbled in both, you see...but the latter appears to be how i met my end."
"As is typically th' consequence for fooling wi' means ya don't understand. Y' say it was possession tha' lead t' yer demise, no? Now, how could'ja 'ave possibly—?"
He stopped her, his answer quick and blunt, but dripping with light annoyance. "Simple. Communicating with a spirit that lied about its true nature, as i stated in our last meeting. You'd be surprised by how many demons do this just to have their way. And playing with the hearts of humans is one way to do so...betrayal is an act as old as time, Ms. Valentina."
Celeste was silent, allowing his words to sink in. To have been so passive about it earlier made her earnestly feel so guilty about it, but he was truthful. It was the oldest trick in the book, but humans—as she learned—never really learned their lesson the first time about. So, naturally, the demonically inclined would use the trick repeatedly. When humans became wiser to this was when they'd stop.
"...I see."
"And i assure you...you'll find my reasoning for my actions understandable, and not as asinine as you claim..."
"Then...go on. You've piqued my curiosity tonight..."
It was then Icarus began. He was silent at first, as if carefully trying to establish how he wanted to tell the story, like it was a game of chess and he was strategizing his next move. Or, rather, his next words...
"I...I had lost the one dearest to me two weeks prior to my demise. Scarlet fever, i believe, i can never quite remember—it was SOME type of illness...but one thing i do...was the night i attempted to contact her. With my heart shattered and nothing else to do to quell the pain, all i wanted was to have closure, Ms. Valentina; that's all i ever wanted! And this...this creature...it feigned her personality and mimicked her so flawlessly, i knew not of what i had done...", Icarus explained, voice wavering in and out of steadiness, as if he might break down and weep there before Celeste.
"She offered to 'let her in' and that 'i would never have to be alone'...a lie. What it wanted was nothing more than to have a puppet to control and cast aside once it was done with me...it...it didn't get to for very long. Whatever it was...it was strong. Before it could even get its hold upon me, i think i passed...or maybe i blacked out and something else caused my demise, I’m not too sure..."
Well, Celeste did...but she wouldn't dare explain it to him. It had to with forcible contortion of the entire body...a morbid detail that was too sickening, even to her, to explain unless she wanted to be sick at her stomach for the rest of the night.
"...It's not fair, is it...?", she began in a slow, soft tone. Her gaze turned away from him, and her brows furrowed, "T' lose th' one ye cherish...it is a pain i know all too well, my dear Icarus. Y'...ye aren't th' only soul who 'as been wounded in such a way, an'...for that, i'm sorry tha' even in death, ye must suffer like this..."
Icarus perked up, intrigued by this statement, and leaned forward to listen more to her. "Oh...? And, how...how, pray tell, do you know of this...?"
"...Because my own husband died in such a way...of course, i...only saw th' end results o' his death, an' it...w-wasn't quite as gruesome as yours, but it was cruel. He 'adn't deserved, no...but alas, Fate is a cruel bitch, she is. There's...more t' this horror tale i could ramble on f'r decades about, so i'll spare y' th' details...", Celeste quietly explained, a rising nausea filling the pit of her stomach. Suddenly, she craved a glass of wine, just to make her forget the rushing memories that flooded her head with him and HIM.
Those burning, bright red eyes that scalded deep into her soul and those hands that left bruise upon bruise on her skin if she disobeyed him, as if she was nothing more than a slave to him.
However...she was just this to him...a slave AND a trophy. Just something to look at and call his.
Her hands suddenly shook and grow cold, even numb at the fingertips. "I assure y'...i'm aware o' th' sentiment. I've seen possessions before...but never did i dream o' one day seein' th' i loved an' swore at th' altar 'Til death do us part' dead at my feet t' th' hands of a jealous demon o' a man..."
"Oh, I’m sure, Ms. Valentina...not a pleasant sight, I’d imagine. Seeing the body warped and twisted until it's nothing like it was before. I'm sure that's what the constables found of me the morning after.", Icarus chuckled, reaching a hand over to grab hers, kneading his fingers soothingly into the clammy skin. "The only thing I regret...is ever picking up that damned board to begin with. My whole life was ahead of me...and i cast it aside like it was garbage."
"P...Perhaps so...but i...i would've...n-never 'ad this opportunity t' meet...someone like you...wh-who...w-was jus'...l-like him..."
Now, his heart broke for the poor woman. Was it really that big of a deal to her just to see him, or was this for show? By the frigidity of her hands and trembling of her entire body, it didn't seem so; this type of anxiety was one that Icarus knew couldn't be faked easily. His hand squeezed hers in a slow, pulsing rhythm—in time to that of a calm heartbeat.
Maybe it would calm her down...? If it helped with his nerves when he'd become restless and nervous, perhaps it'd do the same to her...
"P...Perdoname, mio tresoro...perdoname..."
Italian...? Icarus, at least, recognized it to be this. Mixed with the woman's deep Cockney accent, it was beautiful coming from her lips, but saddening that not only did he know the context, but what it meant in her language. But, probably, what was the most hurtful to him—he felt—was watching such a regal figure of a dark Queen shrink down into a shivering, scared, and distressed mess.
It didn't feel right of her. Granted all he'd seen...but he knew it was better to let her have this moment of remembrance for the one she lost. He wanted nothing more than to comfort her properly, but there was only so much that could be done with the positions he was in.
He was dead...and she was not.
"I think...the point I’m trying to make, Ms. Valentina...was that i desire nothing more than another chance at life. As any spirit does, i'm sure...but for me, this is not an empty want; i truly wish to be among you. To walk with you. To be HERE. Is that asking too much...?", Icarus asked in a soft voice, rubbing lazy circles into her skin.
Celeste was tacit for a moment. She knew of a way to possibly make that wish so, but...she wasn't sure if the one she was thinking of would even allow her to do such a thing. To bring back a shade from the Dead, especially from Hell, was a long and arduous journey that was dangerous to most souls who were foolhardy enough to take the challenge.
Unless you possessed a strong will, were proficient enough with magical prowess, and had a clever wit to prevent the sinners and demons that lurked about from making a slave out of you, there was no chance at survival or returning alive. On top of that...only a few could actually send you down to the 'starting point' of sorts.
And Celeste knew one of those few souls that might do it, depending on if she was willing enough to do it...
"...I...I believe...th-there is...a way, dear...but...I’m...I’m unsure if she'll...go along with it..."
"You do, now? Well, that's wonderful...but enough of that. You can worry about this in the morning...i'm more concerned about you, Ms. Valent–"
"Celeste. Pl...Please, jus'...call me 'Celeste'...enough of th' formalities. You know who i am, so jus' u-use it..."
"...Celeste. My apologies.", his other hand then followed suit, now with both resting on her hands and giving a gentle squeeze.
He was certain of one thing, and that was even if she disconnected the ritual tie that allowed her to see and touch him...he would definitely continue to watch over her. He knew the curse of anxiety well. As a medium, thousands of dead voices bombarded his ears all at once in life, so as the deafening and irritating roar of sound got to be overwhelming—as did the grip that panic did over him that forced him to wall himself up in his room for days upon days.
However, he didn't always have the warm comfort of someone soothing him down from this sensory overload.
If it meant giving her the solace he didn't have whilst alive, then so be it...
-Santos Residence; 4:37 pm-
Tanned knuckles rapped gently on the massive wooden doors leading to the inside of the Santos estate.
She just only hoped that now wasn't a bad time for her to be visiting, as Mercedes was one for her space and her husband was usually out about this time of the day at work. The office was only downtown, only about 20 minutes from the mansion they owned, but most of his day was spent making sure orders came in and project deadlines were met in a timely manner.
Celeste waited, hearing the soft footsteps of another growing louder and louder until they reached the door. It pulled open, revealing the replicant; it was actually not Mercedes, but the assistant to the woman and Mr. Santos. A young, red-headed boy who couldn't have been no older than 20 in a long-sleeved red and green striped sweater and faded jeans stood before her, leaning on his cane. Bright, innocent blue eyes stared up at her, glimmering in surprise at the visitor before him, before an equally radiant smile tugged at his mouth.
"Well, i'll be damned, miss...i ain't seen ye in a while now! Wi' this stupid leg, 's been a pain in th' arse t' leave th' house. But...usually a bit o' morphine fr'm th' Ol' Yes Man does th’ trick, give or take a few sessions."
A smile soon followed from Celeste; both knew well of Ash's work at the hospital, so it was definitely a pleasure to hear about the good doctor again. It’d been actually a while since she’d last seen or heard from him. "Come in! Mrs. Santos is actually in th' kitchen, cookin' her Mole Poblano as we speak. I'll let 'er know it's you, ah?"
"Thank ye, Gallus; that'd be wonderful...let 'er know as well i need t' speak wi' 'er, please?", Celeste responded.
"Absolutely! Though, expect th' missus t' take 'er time...once she starts 'er cookin', she won't stop 'til 's all done. I know fr'm experience; woman prides herself in her kitchen work. Enough t' make Martha Stewart fume wi' envy."
And that sadly wasn't wrong of the boy to assume, remembering all the times she'd ever helped Mercedes in the kitchen. Here, Celeste thought her kitchen was massive; Mercedes's was almost significantly bigger. Yet, it was only sensible, as she lived in a massive home that would only have the highest end appliances and decor.
The profession that Mr. Santos made a grand income, granted if the contractor he was assigned to paid him well.
A low, alto laugh bubbled forth from Celeste, "I know, Gallus. Fully aware o’ that, really. La Reina Negra ‘as always been stickler with food; as a mother, it's only second nature t' make sure the ones ye love stay fed, i assume."
"I guess. Coffee?"
"No, lovey. Thank you. Can ye let 'er 'm 'ere?"
"Aye, ma'am, i can. One moment—"
With that, she followed Gallus into the home patiently, for she knew how difficult it was for him to have to move about with that cane. Seeing that made her feel horrible that, at this point with the injury to his Achilles tendon, she could do very little for him, except maybe keep him out of pain.
The story he'd told her upon meeting her was also not too far behind in eliciting her sympathy for him: not just for his disability and limited mobility at such a young age...but the curse that came with it. As a high schooler, just shy of graduating, Gallus had been attacked and scarred to high hell by a strange dog.
Nothing that a trip to the ER and subsequently, surgeries and physical therapy to regain his ability to walk didn't fix...well, somewhat.
To this day, he still had to have a cane, and occasionally, a wheelchair to get about with. But, this was the least of his concerns...
The next few nights a month after the attack that followed were both the strangest and most terrifying he'd ever experienced, for it was at that moment that that was not just a 'strange dog' as previously thought. On the night of a full moon, he'd go into quick bursts of pain before suddenly blacking out, only to wake up in a place he didn't recognize with an even stranger taste in his mouth and aching all over.
Celeste sat down on the couch and allowed herself to look about.
The fireplace was just next to her, and while it was fake and could've easily been taken out by a handyman, it was Mercedes's decision to keep it around. Something about having it made the home feel warm and safe to her, so Mr. Santos opted to keep it around, even if they had no practical use for it besides just decoration.
There, above the brick mantle, was a bouquet of white carnations and red roses next to the couple's wedding photo. In the golden frame stood a short Hispanic younger woman in a long, princess-like dress with a single red flower in her hand and her veil back to expose her face and eyes to the cameraman. At a distance, Mercedes's eyes were a soft hazelnut shade of brown, but as you'd approach, the eyes would change color from brown to red—as if by an illusion.
While subtle, the demonic nature and aura she gave off didn't detract from the unsettling beauty The Black Queen possessed. With features like that of a sculptor's finest work, like Pygmalion crafting Galatea, it wasn't entirely hard to understand why the likes of her husband would fall for the fallen angel's grace.
Standing beside her was a man she easily presumed to be Luciano Santos himself.
A tall man of about his early 50s, who still appeared to be in his mid-30s...as strange as that looked to most, with there being such a stark difference in age. Oh, if only one knew the reason for his almost youthful looks.
"Es hermoso...isn't it, Celeste? I remember it as if it had happened just last night..."
The dulcet, accented tone of Mercedes rang out clearly from a few feet behind her, enough to startle Celeste from her trance. The ravenette swung around from the couch to glance behind her, and there she was, just as she appeared in the picture. Instead of her long, pure white gown that she stood in for her wedding, Mercedes was dressed in a silken off-white blouse with a black and red skirt that just barely reached past her knees, all covered by a white apron.
Long, wavy hair was tied back low, and presumably out of the way so she could cook.
Arms folded before her, there was a noticeable yet soft smile from her, eyes trained on the same picture as Celeste's were.
"Yes...how long 'as it been now? 15 years?"
"Ay, has it? I can never remember...how sad is that? But alas, despite how this old woman looks, i am just that. So, dates and I have been estranged friends for many centuries...",she responded, eyes glimmering with a soft fondness, before she was then pulled back to reality as if remembering that she had a guest before her.
"But enough of this...El Perrito says you needed to see me, yes? Won't you tell me while i start the tea? I was just about to start the pot."
"Yes...you're...prob'ly th' only one who knows 'ow t' go 'bout this without lookin' at me like i'm a Looney Tune for it."
A thin, brunette brow quirked at this statement.
"With how you put it, mija...you almost make it sound like I’m going to disagree with you. Pero, adalante, por favor...you have my curiosity."
With that, Mercedes gestured for her to follow her into the kitchen, the smell of peppers and spices filling the air. Whatever she had prepared for dinner that night smelled heavenly—strong, even, but true to most foods mixed with a lot of spice, there was almost definitely going to be just as much of a kick in terms of taste.
"...I was wonderin'...since 'm sure it's possible...would ye...grant me entry into Hell t' return wi' a mortal soul?"
CLANG—!!
Mercedes almost lost her grip on the pot and plate she had in her hand, and caught it before it could shatter on her ceramic tiled floor. "Chinga tu MADRE, tu quieres hacer—", she growled in mild frustration before drawing a quick, calming breath, before allowing her eyes to fall upon the inquirer. Rather than angry, she was more addled and perturbed by the question itself.
Did Celeste even know what she was asking of her?!
"You...Celeste. Querida...you want to do WHAT? Do you have any idea the repercussions of what you're asking me to do?! You, a living being of flesh and blood, wish to traverse the depths of Hell to retrieve the soul of an individual that you just met, who—for all you are concerned—could be lying about their intentions. Lying about what happened to them! You don't even know if they're demonic and using it to illicit your sympathy! Most a sinner, with enough manipulation and charisma, can do it and have.", she retorted in a warning tone of voice, "This is no tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, amor. This is serious, and one that, if you are not careful…you will not be fortunate to walk from…"
"But...it c'n be done...right? Mercedes, when i met him...an' y' c'n even ask Lucinda an' Josie, this man...he was no demon. Not a hellish aura in his soul...his death was a fluke; don't you understand?! I...I don't think 'e was meant t' die—"
Mercedes barked a cold laugh, "Don't be silly, Celeste. Fate asks not when you want to pass, nor if it is into either arms of Him or at the feet of Lucifer. She only goes by your actions and the integrity of your soul. Only Fate decides where you go. He likely had his reasons for being in whatever Circle Minos decided for him."
Celeste was quiet for a moment, thinking over her next set of words carefully, "...Y' would to if it was for...well, him. You 'ave before...haven't ye...?"
The woman before her's eyes grew wide and angrier with the question posed. How DARE her—?
Another barrage of Spanish and demonic curses flew from her mouth, the latter causing a wave of cold to fill the air and the glass in the windows to begin cracking under the magical pressure.
"Don't you DARE bring mi esposo into this! He has nothing to do with this little 'suicide mission' of yours!"
"But it IS true...isn't it? You brought back ol' Santos from th' dead when 'is heart gave out, jus' as an added 'Fuck you' t' th' God who cast you out after you so 'ad a right t' lash out at th' fucker who was unfaithful t' you. YOU took 'im back from Death after that, no? Or are you jus' special like tha', Mercy? I dare ye t' answer 'yes' t' that. Go on. I fuckin' DARE ye."
A rise of dark aura swirled in the air, mixed with the growing anger and frustration in the other's demeanor. Mercedes tensed up like a defensive jungle cat, watching her opponents every move with vigilance, as if preparing herself to fight. But...she had made a decent point. For her to deny Celeste of what she wanted to do would only make a hypocrite of herself, for after all, the story she had told was nothing but the truth.
When Santos had passed that night, she did everything possible to regain him...even if it meant swearing herself to Lucifer as one of his courtiers.
So, for Celeste to basically sacrifice herself to wander the brimstone labyrinth that was Hell...? It was selfless AND selfish all at once. Selfish because should she fail, it would doom her to remain there for eternity, but selfless because it was an act of sacrifice true.
And, for that, Mercedes found respect in that...and it seemed very much like the Draconian woman to do anyhow.
She relaxed, narrowing her eyes in contempt, before scoffing. "Perhaps so...if you are so insistent about it...and your intentions don't appear to be of ill-intent...i'll allow it. But...not without a guide. Hell is already tricky to traverse anyhow, and most have been there so long that it would take another damned soul to even convince another to give you the correct information you'd need..."
Relief washed over her at that moment; not only did she not have to possibly fight The Black Queen (and she really didn't cherish the thought of that battle; this WAS Mercedes she was thinking about here), but now she had the woman's consent to attempt the journey into Hell.
"Thank you. Really...ye 'ave no idea what this means t' me right now, Merce. I'll pay y' back; however ye want, i'll do it."
With that, Mercedes's smile returned. "Marvillosa~...now...hopefully, you have what you need, no? This is a spell that MUST be done immediately, so please...please be certain you have what you need to make the journey. Stay on the path, and please take no offers nor deals with ANYONE you meet. To do so would be putting your soul for sale for a discount; it's tempting."
Celeste only shook her head. The bag that she had slung around her shoulder practically had most of what she needed in it. A spell book, a few magically imbued pieces of jewelry, a piece of her own clothing for tethering purposes to not lose her mind whilst down there, and some water that would hopefully last her the duration of the trip.
She only hoped that this would work...
"I...I think I’m good, Mercy. Whenever yer ready...'s all that matters."
A flash of the eyes, followed by a wicked grin upon her lips. Something about the look on her face both terrified Celeste...but enticed her further in. Upon a step forward, it was all Mercedes needed to follow—before the woman lurched forward at her. Shortly before Celeste's vision went to black, she could’ve sworn that for a moment...she saw Mercedes warp into something else.
Instead of the beautiful young woman and one of His fallen angels, who'd dare to take vengeance that she felt was so rightfully due the night her first love gave into his lust, there—staring Celeste in the face—was a tall, bat-like humanoid with a woman's shape. It had all the same curves and form of one, but it didn't look right.
It was as if she had seen the God Camazots himself morph before her and come from the House of Xibalba for her head, just as the Twin Gods had done in mythos. She couldn't scream or fight back; instead, she stood motionless as her vision warped and dissolved to nothing.
Whatever had been done to her, it left the smell of brimstone and wet earth fresh in her nose...
(A/N - Hopefully, this attempt sticks. This is actually attempt number 2 of writing this original fic, and we can actually see this one to the end. This was actually based upon a concept i had when i was younger to give another OC an attempt at a relationship; i decided that, "Yes. But it will not be easy for her. She shall go through Hell and back to get it"--and thus this was birthed.
Fair warning to you as well, the following fic will be containing a LOT of themes unsuitable for the faint of heart, varying from violence of varying kinds to gore and much, much worse. Trigger warnings will be placed in the beginning after the Author's Note.)
-Really, Cel? A ouija board? We’re not kids anymore; why’d you pull this old thing out?-
“Humor me, Josie. It was one’a th’ first things i played, growing as a witch in trainin’...an’ one of the first magically inclined tools i really ever played with as a fledgling. A ouija board can be quite fun an’ thrillin’ IF ye know all th’ stops.”, Celeste responded, straightening the cloth atop the dining room table.
The Valentina residence’s dining room was lit by only the light of candles, giving way to an almost romantic, comforting ambience. While Celeste set up for the ritual, with Josephine burning off white sage and rosemary, Lucinda watched skeptically as all of this took place. It wasn’t necessarily the first time she’d ever taken part in a ouija board ritual. It wasn’t so much that she minded being there…but something about the entire act felt so…tasteless. Tasteless, yet also so simple and quite honestly, a bore. It felt like something a teenager would do at a sleepover out of boredom and for a quick, cheap thrill. Still, she wasn’t about to question it, since—as much as she hated to admit it—Celeste was definitely right about one thing: with the correct experience and technique, a ouija board could actually quite interesting.
Bringing the glass of wine to her dark red lips, blue eyes watched carefully as the middle oldest of the three brought out the board she was talking about. Something about the damn thing shot chills down her spine, which...said quite a lot, but also, raised questions.
“You...played with this thing...? I hope you know NOW that this thing is no toy, Celeste. The board has been the subject to those who fiddle with becoming a demon’s plaything for centuries. It is why whole slumber parties end up dead by daylight.”
“Well, of course. It took...one good time o’ summoning somethin’ i shouldn’t have t’ fully grasp the concept. I wouldn’t be havin’ Jo burn all this sage an’ rosemary IF i didn’t know, Lucy. Have faith.”
The woman scoffed, “Here is where the misunderstanding lies, dear. I have plenty of faith in you; after all, had I not, I would have been the one to lead and not you. I just don’t think this is a safe idea. Even with all the precautions you’re taking...don’t you see that even with all this, there’s a chance that something could still go wrong?”
“Maybe so...but give it a chance. If something goes wrong...all of us are capable of protecting ourselves.”
With that, they placed the last incense in its holder and Josephine took her seat at the table, along with the other two. Celeste sat at the center, between Lucinda and Josephine, staring down at the swarthy mahogany board. Despite how glossy and well-kept it looked, it was ancient, having been in Celeste’s possession for centuries.
A stiletto-tipped hand rested gently on the planchette, and all three pairs of hands were sitting there with hers. All was silent, waiting for Celeste’s lead. With a clarifying breath, she then spoke the following phrase in Latin —
“Intrate hoc sanctum, omnes spiritus de ultra. Rogamus loqui tecum.”
(Enter this sanctum, all ye spirits from beyond. We ask to speak with you.)
With that, the room shuddered and grew darker, leaving only but the lone gentle light of the candles as a guide for them to see. It was then it felt as if they were being watched by eyes they could not see, although from what direction, none were sure of. Once she was certain of the surrounding atmosphere, Celeste spoke once more.
“...Is anyone here? Speak now, or leave us in the dark forever more.”
As if responding, a fourth pair of hands joined theirs. While Celeste didn’t flinch, Josephine hissed in surprise while Lucinda gasped, growling curses in a demonic tongue. Then, with a light force, it moved their hands over to its response.
>YES.<
They were no longer alone, and so Celeste’s gaze remained straight ahead, focused on the empty seat where the force seemed to stem from. “Might i know your name, strange one? We mean you no harm. We only wish to talk. Nothing more than such.”, she replied politely, a smile curling at deep terracotta red lips.
A pause before the entity gave its answer. >ICARUS.<
-Oh, like the kid in Greek mythos...probably died because of his own damn hubris. Seen it before. I mean…man is known for the primary trait that caused the fall of The Morningstar straight to Hell. What else is new?-
Lucinda shot a scathing glance. If her eyes could kill, Josephine would’ve been dead 10 times over. “Josie--! That was quite rude!”
-Luce, you an’ i both know humans are some arrogant bastards. You’re surprised at this because...?-
“Both of you, HUSH. Now...Icarus, was it? Beautiful name, by th’ way...may i, if it isn’t too much...may i…inquire of when it was that ye passed...?”
A few more moments passed by, and then, slowly…the phrase was spelled out in front of them.
>1896. DIED BY BOARD.<
Board...
Did he mean...a ouija board? It would’ve been made since the invention of the board was about 5, maybe even 6 years prior to the death of this poor man. Maybe he was trying to contact someone, and it went wrong? That was the only thing that Celeste could properly come up with that may have been the cause of death for the soul she was speaking to. It saddened her; just what made him consider using such a thing was a good idea?
...Should she even ask that?
“1896, hm...? And you say you died from the...board, was it? Do you mean...a ouija board, love? Can...can you be a bit more precise? How? I c’n think o’ quite a few ways one’s end might come wi’ ouija boards.”
>TRICKED. THEY LIED. POSSESSED.<
-GREAT! A demon-possessed man! Already off to a wonderful start, Cellie!-, Josephine sent sarcastically.
“Well...this is jus’ from what we’re able t’ get from th’ board. It’s like clipped textin’; y’ know how when an older person’s learnin’ t’ text an’ they can jus’ get a few words down at a time? ‘S like that for older spirits. I actually know a way t’ make speakin’ t’ Icarus easier...but ‘s a bit more complicated than some sage an’ incantation. This is where y’ gotta get a bit more...personal.”
With that, she reached from her left pocket a small athame: something she always used for when she needed blood for a ritual, should it call for it. And this night, it did...
“For this t’ work, i need th’ blood o’ the one who wants t’ see ‘im. Not much. Jus’ a pinch...there’s a reason they made this board of th’ material it’s made of. For purposes such as this...”, and with that explanation, Celeste stuck the tip of the blade into the tip of her right pointer finger and pressed until blood rushed from the small nick.
She then passed the blade to Josephine, who seemed more than eager to be doing something regarding the use of blood. She gladly took the knife and slid the blade across her own fingers to draw a fair bit of blood, before handing the somewhat dirty knife to Lucinda with a wide grin. Out of the two, Lucinda looked the slightest bit disturbed by the act. However, she didn’t want to be the only one to not be able to see the spirit they were speaking to, and so she followed.
Shakily, she took the knife and pressed the tip into her palm, letting the crimson red liquid trail down her fingers until it reached the very tips. There, she touched the board with the others, completing the circle of blood that pooled about the planchette glass. The piece glinted and emanated a soft light at first, and Celeste allowed her eyes to flutter shut as her entire body tingled. The feeling of static electricity filled the room, descending upon the other two who had resigned themselves to the act.
A drowsiness filled the both of them, until suddenly, there was a small lapse of consciousness.
Once it all came flooding back to them, it was then they could hear a voice. A man’s...it was soft-spoken and mild, but sweet and one neither woman expected to hear fill their ears. When Celeste’s eyes then opened again, she was greeted to the sight of a well-dressed man from what she assumed was the late Victorian era. With mousy brown hair and wide-open, unseeing white eyes that had the lightest tint of a powder blue, it was jarring to behold.
He definitely appeared the part of an undead ghost, with eyes that looked as if he’d seen things no man should have ever had to lay witness to, and a general look as if he’d not been sleeping well. He also looked fairly young, and if one had to guess, he appeared to be roughly younger than Celeste but also older than Josephine.
Something about this brought about the Mother Hen in both Celeste and Lucinda, but neither woman dared to show this. Instead, it manifested in sheer curiosity. Josephine only stared back, with only the opposite. Disinterest and even slight amusement in the other’s reactions...a smirk curled at the corner of her mouth.
He was cute, yes...but to her, ‘cute’ meant something she could tease with ease.
The man who called himself Icarus looked ahead, but something about those eyes held a key indicator that perhaps his sight was not the best. He knew there were three women sitting in front of him, which meant with this inference alone, he could look between the three individually. Nervousness and distrust were blatant in those large, doll-like eyes.
He finally, after the longest time, mustered up the courage to speak. His voice was tiny and shaky, but audible to the three. “You...you can...?”
“Yes, love. We c’n see you...perfectly, in fact. It’s...quite odd, really.”, Celeste laughed. “I’ve had that spell in th’ back o’ my mind for ages...but never ‘ad th’ right application for it. A ouija board is...a limited method of communication, but this...we c’n see you jus’ as if there was someone there before us...”
“And, by the Gods...it works. I truly forget that there’s a method to your madness, Cel...”
“Mmm...so you’re th’ one this board summoned, ah? I actually expected an older gentleman with that name...but i guess tis th’ con of assumin’, right? You...may i ask you another sensitive question, carino...?”
“You may. I assure you whatever it may be...i probably have heard it before. I don’t believe there is much that can truly frighten me...i lost all fear of the unknown long ago, my dear lady...”, he responded gently, a small smile curling at his mouth.
“Right...when you mentioned the ‘board’, which i guess was t’ mean th’ Ouija board...what did’ja mean by that? How was it tha’ this board ended your life?”
The smile on his lips then died to a spacy stare. He looked away, unsure of how to answer that question honestly without having the horrific memory tied to that response replay in his head. On one end, she was being so sincere and kind about her questioning that he felt compelled to continue answering, but on the other, how was he to answer something like that?
Icarus was torn between two evils: being dishonest with the woman or his own horrific trauma and death being relived again.
Fiddling with his hands, the act of toying with his fingers was enough to comfort him enough into not outright panicking before them. “I’d...i’d sooner not...answer that, ma’am. I...I can’t...not like...l-like...oh...”, he trailed off, mumbling into deafening silence.
It was then Celeste felt absolutely horrible for even asking him, if his shift in demeanor wasn’t much to go by. She felt as if she’d just kicked a puppy, and it took everything in her to not sever the circuit, keeping him visible and audible to all of them and embrace him. She looked over to Lucinda, who seemed to share in this grievance while Josephine’s impish expression softened.
-I mean...i s’ppose i would too if somethin’ came out from th’ board an’ used me as their personal lil joy-ride before killin’ my ass deader than a doornail—HEY!-, Josephine’s response was briefly cut short by a sharp punt to the ankle under the table. A low, agitated grunt left Lucinda at this.
“That’s ENOUGH! Haven’t you anything else better to say, or are you actively trying to start something with this poor man?! If you don’t want to be here, Josephine, simply say so!”
-...Ok, i could’ve phrased that better...but in my defense, you DID tell me t’ be honest. That’s all i was doing...an’ besides...yer acting as if that’s not pretty much what just happened. For God’s sake, LOOK. He even said it. The board killed him; what do you think that means? It means somethin’ looking t’ take advantage gave him th’ smoke an’ here he is!-
Both women glared her down , but it was Celeste who kept her eye on Icarus the entire time out of the corner of her peripherals, waiting for the phantom of the young man to go completely undone from grief and panic from the flooding memories of how his death came to be.
But, no. Instead, he slumped over until his head was practically down on the table, shielding his face from view.
Her heart ached, and with her untethered hand, she reached out—stopping for a moment mid-way, as if reconsidering it—before finally then deciding to console him. Her fingertips barely grazed the back of his arm, ghosting over his sleeve. Even if he was dead, she could feel a warmth radiating from his skin.
Was it just an illusion...or was it a result of her magic trying to compensate and make him seem as real as possible?
She wasn’t sure...but she knew he was reactive to her consoling touch. He didn’t touch her back, but didn’t push her hand away.
“Pardon her...sometimes, i forget she’s overly mouthy, so feel free to ignore that...if you are uncomfortable by the questions, then by all means: you are not obligated to answer them.”
“I...I’m aware of this, but...she also speaks the truth. In my darkest hour, something…i couldn’t quite tell you nor explain…but something, with no intention of playing nice sought to take my life. I thought it was them—the one i lost...but t’was a horrible lie. My death was nothing more than a fluke, and so shall it be—”
“Maybe so...but it is the way of fate. Sometimes, she can be cruel...and other times, she can play cruel games...none of it is fair, nor was how you passed...and for that, i truly am sorry...”
A mournful hum, before he looked up at her once more with solemn, clouded over eyes. “...My time in your hold wanes, sadly...i must go...but if you ever wish to speak with me again. All you need to do is call my name...i assure you, miss...i will come. As one who is as well-versed in the art of specters as you, i can confirm it...to call the full name of the deceased soul will make them come to you, as you would if someone called for you.”, he spoke, his voice as quiet and reverent as a prayer.
Celeste blinked, but an understanding gleam filled those dark emerald eyes. He was right—while the spell was effective in keeping spirits visible and audible to those contacting them; it was never for too long. She could’ve begged him to stay, but alas, that was outside of his own control as a phantom. So, with a nod, she returned the same tone of voice.
“Alright...until next time, Mr. Icarus...goodbye.”
As soon as all three women’s hands let go of the planchette, the spell was broken and the world around them regained its natural lighting. Icarus was now no longer able to be seen or heard from, which only further confirmed the spell had dissipated to nothing, leaving the trio in both wonder and slight sadness for the man.
The one who seemed the most affected by this was, of course, the leader of the seance herself.
Her questions only left her with more questions, but mostly about the man she’d just spoken to; not only did his appearance leave her wanting to talk to him more, but what he had told her also struck her as fascinating. By how he talked about the dead and spirits, he was possibly a medium of some type, which only drew her into him more just by default.
Be that because of her own fascination with spirits and the afterlife (Hell, her closest companion and guardian was this!), or because of the longing of her own Elias...
Elias...
She remembered the night she learned about his demise by the man who had wanted her as his own bride and as a trophy. It made her glad that he’d taken her sight from her when he’d first had her locked within the dungeons of his manor; a world without Elias was a world she no longer wished to see. Even after she could restore her sight after finally being free of El Antiguo Mal, it made her wish after then that she hadn’t.
So...maybe he could tell her something about him?
Was that even possible?
...Would Icarus even want to do that...?
It sounded quite selfish for her to make him use a gift that he’d been given, likely to bring closure to the bereaved and the dead. It was a gift meant for everyone, not just her. She then felt ashamed for even considering that as a possibility, but...it was a possibility.
A small one, but not an asinine one.
She had to see him again...
She HAD to see Icarus again...
-...I know that look in yer eyes, Cel...what is it?-
“...Nothin’. It’s...it’s nothin’. Really, Josie. Come on, let’s...let’s get this mess cleaned up, yes? Who’s on for a movie and a bottle o’ Sauvignon? After that, i’m sure you both ‘ave ‘ad enough o’ th’ smoke an’ mirrors routine...”
Both Lucinda and Josephine looked at one another. Something didn’t feel right about this; the dazed expression and current countenance didn’t suit Celeste, and they knew it. Something about the experience had set something off for the woman, and being ever the brave soul, she was trying to repress it.
Be that with other activities or alcohol, as if the act of offering a bottle of wine didn’t say it all.
Still...was it wise to make her talk about it? Both knew that once Celeste was dead-set on something, there was no stopping the draconian woman...so what made it any different here...?
Spent all of maybe five minutes deleting rude comments in one of my blazed posts, so just...yeeeeah, just be aware that if anyone replies with hate on any blazed posts: that i’m just gonna end up deleting that shit. Because one, i’m not even going to dignify you with a response, and two, you’re literally embarrassing yourself.
Like, y’all. My brothers in Christ. Just scroll and move about your day. You don’t have to respond; don’t like it? Cool, just keep scrolling. At this point, i really honestly don’t care what you have to say. My money goes into however i choose to do so, and btw, i usually do this once--maybe TWICE a month, if i have the extra money. Nothing is wasted; in fact, it does feel like a waste to me when you post replies that are just you being horrible.
I'm sorry people are being mean on your blazed post, OP. Idk anything about your post but I support you and your headcanons <3 People can be mean for the smallest reason and it's sad. Literally just scroll. Like, how hard is that? Anyway, spend your money how you want and continue blogging :)
;;--
Thanks! UwU' I would do more actual writing and less headcanons but sadly, work and real life.
...I actually had no idea people were being assholes on those posts, really. Literally just woke up, but even still...jesus. Ah well.
