— we are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at stars. ( part two of two )
SUMMARY: Philip Petre gives his daughter an answer. PREVIEW: Some stars cannot stand to burn for so long. Some stars fade out of sheer exhaustion; because it cannot bear to be the light any longer. Because the darkness is cold and vast. DATE & TIME: May 29 TRIGGER WARNINGS: implied suicide
It’s been exactly one week since Papa promised to think about it.
To be a star, you must burn.
What do you mean, Papa?
It means — (she will never forget the hollow look of his eye, the vast and inescapable loneliness she’s tried to eclipse her whole life) — that you must go alone.
No. No, I won’t run without you. I won’t leave you.
What if I choose to stay behind?
Then… I guess I will, too.
It’s a lie, and it sits thick and heavy in her throat. For a week, Maeve can scarcely take a breath without a flutter of panic. There is a life waiting for her just beyond the horizon, and a single word holds her back from sprinting to greet it: her Papa’s yes, her Papa’s okay.
Each day that passes and her Papa does not slice her hope to bits, Maeve dreams a little harder. Desperately, she slips into a world of fantasy and puts her faith in its power to right every wrong. She begins making plans: the new name she will take on (Stella, it’s the obvious choice), the subject she will study in when she at last goes to university…
Mostly, Maeve tries to plant her goodbyes as kindly as she can. The moment her Papa agrees, she’ll take his hand and the two of them will flee. The stars will conceal them both from Cosimo’s sight, and together, they’ll erase their name from Verona’s fabric. When the miles between them and the city that nearly devoured them whole stretch on and on and on — only then, will Maeve let herself remember. Only then will Maeve mourn the childhood the Capulets stole from her, the loss she has spent her entire life trying to make up for.
For now, Maeve marches home like she is on her way to war. And with all that is at stake, is she not riding into battle? The Capulets have turned her heart into an empty grave, where she buries all things: her Papa’s laughter, a house full of light, the warmth of a mother’s embrace.
She is tired of wandering through graveyards, and she is tired of scavenging battlefields. Maeve is ready to leave her nightmares behind and walk into a new daydream. But she can’t go there without her Papa.
When she gets home, her Papa tells her that she will have to.
The room starts to tilt and spin, violently and out of her control. Maeve’s reaction is immediate. Eyes wide, cheeks flush with defiance, she challenges his decision. “Why not?” It’s a demand more than a question, voice hard as stone. “What’s keeping you here?” Before he has the chance to answer, Maeve begins to plead with him: “Papa, please. I can’t leave you here alone. Don’t make me live without you.”
Philip looks down at his hands, unable to look his daughter in the eye as her heart shatters. He would rather be pricked and split open by shards of glass than watch Maeve cry — because of him. For him.
She is her mother’s daughter. It’s precisely why he can’t follow her into the light. His love has damned angels before; he cannot promise that Maeve, too, will not be destroyed if he lets himself love her.
“Then stay.” For the first time, Maeve hears in her Papa’s voice the captain who is something of an unholy legend among the Capulets. Firm and without mercy, Philip is no more; there is only Prospero. “Make your own decision. I’ve made mine.”
“You know I can’t stay! They killed my mother. They made me kill people too. I’ve done awful things for them, and for what?” In choked sobs, Maeve spits out each word ferociously, as if passion alone can sway her Papa. “Do you know, I used to wait up every night for you to come home? Do you know how many times I’ve helped you get into bed because you were drunk and bumping into the walls, and I was scared that you might die, too? I was a kid, Papa. I was only a kid!”
Philip’s hands curl into fists. His knuckles go white. Still, Maeve does not stop. Every emotion she has quieted for fear of hurting him, every storm she has trapped in a glass jar to spare her Papa more heartache — it explodes out of her all at once.
She’s only asked him for something one other time. On her knees with sobs shaking her entire body, Maeve begged her Papa to choose her. To shut the door on the Capulets and be a father to his daughter.
She asks him for the same thing now — and again, he chooses the Capulets. Again, he chooses the tarnished glory of bloodshed and the twisted pleasure of power among Verona’s gods. Terror reigns over love, and perhaps it always will. Perhaps the chant of monsters will forever prevail over the choir of angels, and leave Maeve on her knees once more.
“They ruined your life.” Maeve sniffs and wipes at the hot rush of tears, her wet nose. “Why do you let them? Why don’t you want to be happy? With me?”
At last, Philip raises his chin and locks his gaze unto hers. “I will never be happy,” he says frankly. It is what it is. He knows that wherever he runs, it will always be the same. The same face in the mirror, the same dead and empty eyes staring back at him. The same sins on his hands, the same demons at his shoulder.
The Capulets are only one mask that the beast wears. The beast may hide behind a thousand more, but underneath it all is the same face: his own.
Maeve’s lower lip trembles. “Me neither.”
Silence stretches between them, a rope pulled taut and tight that waits for one to walk across toward the other. From opposite ends, Maeve and Philip stare at one another and wait. Unyielding, stubborn, blind with pride and wishful thinking —
It’s almost like looking in the mirror. For the first time, Philip sees not Maria’s eyes, but his own.
A flicker of pride, a flash of faith. Then nothing. It’s not enough for either of them to join the other.
“Fine, then.” Maeve rises from her seat, hiccuping with sobs. “I’ll live without you.”
But how long can a fire roar without kindling? Even stars must fall from the sky. Some fall sooner than others. Some fall like it has one last burning wish to be seen, to be alive and brilliant and loved.
Some fall quietly, with tears still wet on her cheeks and a gun in her hands. Some are found the next morning by a hungover father who only pretended he was ready to say goodbye.
Some stars cannot stand to burn for so long. Some stars fade out of sheer exhaustion; because it cannot bear to be the light any longer. Because the darkness is cold and vast. To look into the night’s unending expanse, to know that she will never defeat it —
Not all stars can survive it.
Some stars cannot stand to burn for so long.
OVERVIEW: I did it again... As of May 29, Maeve is dead. The Capulets are fully aware that she has committed suicide, though only VOLUMNIA and ARIEL have any inkling as to why. I’m open to threads through May 29! Considering Maeve was fully expecting to run away from Verona with her Papa, many of the threads between May 23-29 will have a sense of finality to them. If you have any ideas and/or plots to add onto this, please feel free to DM me. I’m open to all things!
