Short jokes were far funnier when you didnβt need a stool to reach the top shelf - heβd learned this the last time she had demanded that he hand her the flour which, letβs be honest? He wondered how it had gotten there in the first place, Vihaan was hardly the type to cook, really. Not that he couldnβt, but it was a conscious choice not to. Her lack of amusement seemed to fuel him just fine though, that snort, paired with a look he received most often caused a bit more laughter, along with the kind of smile that would have had Crest begging him for a feature.Β
βI prefer giraffe, you fun sized cyclops.βΒ The jest was there, because it was how theyβd learned to own their shared tragedy.Β βI am in a hurry because I want mac and cheese that hasnβt come from a box this time, and Iβm told the new bartender is something to look atβ¦which, thank fucking fate, I canβt look anymore winners of the alien vs. predatory beauty pageant.βΒ
The look of offense grew until she managed to actually look hurt. Reaching, she moved to smack his arm with a small scoff. βVihaan! I hate that name.β Citali was far from sensitive when it came to her... vision impairment, but being called a cyclops made her feel something akin to big and oafish. Troll-like in a way, and she hated it.
Settling back into step beside him, she let some of the distance she had stubbornly put between them as they moved. Again her eyes rolled. βYou always want food.β Not that she was one to talk, her appetite had a tendency of matching her brotherβs. βYou have such a way with words, have I told you that recently?β
[SUMMER BISHIL] | [CITALI IKKAN] has accepted the darkness. They are a [GODDESS - (CREATED)]. Someone said they were [UNWAVERING], and a little [SELF-CENTERED]. They are [PANSEXUAL] and really into [HUMILIATION and COLLARING] and a [DOMINANT].
Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β βYouβre really mature for your age.β
Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β βThanks, it was the trauma.β
-Patron of New Beginnings, Justice, Sibling Bonds, Perseverance, Survivors of violence, and Transformation.
-Claims to have no roots, no heritage, of familial ties aside from Vihaan.
-Dwelling is shared with her brother and is basically a big ass plantation style home somewhere out in the woods where crazy shit, including obscene parties and nonsense happen.
-The less emotionally available, sympathetic, and empathetic of the Ikkans. Which is saying a lot, all things considered.
-She is a professional when it comes to swerving attachments and feelings.
-Obviously, only has one eye. It isnβt a sore subject, but it also isnβt a story she likes repeating over and over again, so everyone who asks her about it gets a different story.
-Quite literally the pettiest, cuntiest thing out there right now.
Β Ask her when her life began, and sheβll start with the story of her motherβs death. To her, life before that mattered little. It had been a start full of Pandoraβs greatest evil: Hope. There had been a comfort there, a feeling of safety and contentment buried below the behavior of her father. Her mother represented a sort of normalcy that they found nowhere else. A warmth found only within her touch, her words. Their mother was the living, breathing fire of their family hearth and their father snuffed her for no more than weight on a word.
A name.
Sheβll tell you life began that day with bare feet standing in a pool of still tepid blood, with wide eyes burning the sight of her motherβs lifeless body into her memory. Sheβll tell you life started with a numbing shock and terror. There were no tears to be shed, not with the way bloodstained fingertips took hold of her chin and assured her it would be okay. Promised her that all would be better now.
If you were to ask Citali about her birth, sheβll tell you that the heat of hatred breathed life into her soul, revived what had been so close to death. The only reprieve she found from the flames was when illness struck her; a punishment from the gods. However, she couldnβt help but feel as if it had been she who had done wrong.
Her mother had been ripped from her, her entire world shaken and turned upside down, and yet, it was she who bore the weight of the punishment given. It was she who was to carry the illness to her grave β as if she couldnβt hate that man anymore than she already did. She was meant to pay for his sins.
Her story was meant to be short, tragic, with her life swept away amid a fever no one could get to break. But her father did as her father had always done and acted out of sheer desperation when he melded his two children together. Now, sheβs certain he was far too an ignorant man to understand the weight of his actions, but back then she couldnβt help but wonder. Question why he acted at all. Why her life mattered in that moment when it hadnβt seemed to matter up till now.
Fear.
It always came back to fear. He feared the gods, both great and small. He feared what they could bring his family, the name he had shed blood to create. He had grown to fear so much, that he had no fear left for what he had created when he combined children β when he tore the heart from his only son to tear in two and share with her. He had no room for caution when the siblings learned that their strength laid within one another. He only managed a flicker of shock when it was them who ended his life, not the gods he had been so terrified of, but the monster he had created.
If you were to ask Citali about when her life began, sheβll start with the story of Vihaan.
Walking with her was always a reminder of just how tiny she was, but heβd never made the mistake of linking her stature with her power. He knew after all theyβd been through, after all that they had come from, the woman beside him was a movement all on her own - a force that would, could, and had brought many to their knees. Thankfully, this particular interaction wasnβt so serious. Instead, his laughter was dancing in the warm air between them, head shaking.Β βIs it your eye that makes you so slow, or your tiny little Satan legs? I would like to arrive sometime this year.βΒ
@citcli
Short jokes - as if they ever held any merit to them to begin with. Yet, throughout the years, it never seemed to stop him from making them. Despite his laughter, she found no humor in the sound of it, nor his words. That eye he spoke of rolled. Dramatically so. βYes, my eye is making me not be able to keep up with your ostrich strides.β there was a snort, possibly a laugh, that came at the mention of her legs. They were shorter in comparison, but that was beside the point. She did, however, shoot a dirty look in his direction as a response.
βClearly thereβs been some sort of miscommunication here.β She was trying to keep her composure, to not let the hellfires rage... but, as one could tell, she was struggling. βSo weβre,β youβre β-going to start over.β There was a small pause, whether it was for Citali to regain her calm, or for the other to prepare themselves was still in the air.
