Blaise falls, and for a moment, Cella just stares. His body, limp and lifeless, upright one minute and then falling to the ground the next. No blood, no scar even, just the light fading from his eyes and Zethrian pulling his hand back, still smoking from his attack.
It was meant for her. She’d seen the way he was looking at her, the way he walked forward, eyes intent, murder on his mind. She alone had stood in front of him, the power of the true Gods simmering in her blood. They saw out of her eyes and they guided her hands, and he knew that by striking a blow against her, he would land a blow against them.
And then--Blaise.
Good, kind Blaise, who didn’t deserve any of this. Who deserved better than her, some vessel with an attitude problem and no future. Who had put himself solidly between her and the false god and had taken the blow that was meant to end this battle once and for all.
For a moment, Cella just stares.
And then she screams.
She screams her fury and her sadness and her loss, and her eyes blaze with her own power. The Gods are still in there, of course, they won’t leave until they’re satisfied, but Cella isn’t theirs in this moment.
In this moment, she’s Blaise’s, and she can’t stand to see him lying there like that.
Zethrian laughs. “Foolish boy. This is not a war for mortals. This is between Gods and the puppets of Gods, so it would seem.”
“You are not a god,” Cella says. “You’re a dead man.”
“You think you can best me?” Zethrian scoffs. “With what?”
She doesn’t think. She picks up her sword from the ground, curling her fingers around the hilt, so tight they go bloodless. And then she’s moving, body following training it had before this started. She runs, she ducks, she lunges, and buries her blade right in Zethrian’s chest.
For a moment, nothing happens, and then fire. Godly white and searing hot, running from her fingertips to the hilt of the sword and down, turning the blade into a beacon where its buried.
Zethrian screams this time, pain and disbelief. “No!” he roars. “No! You can’t do this! NO!”
He reaches to wrench the blade from his chest, but his hands turn to ash when he touches it. He begins to burn, flames licking around the edges of him until he’s nothing. Just dust carried away on the wind.
The blade clatters to the stone of the temple, and Cella stares at it, unseeing.
She’s killed him, but Blaise is still dead.
Inside her head--voices.
“I did not think it would be that easy.”
“He was greatly weakened, and we have rarely been stronger.”
“Is he gone for good, Yvelle?”
“Yes. The record says it is so.”
“Our vessel.” The voice is cool and soothing, but Cella is numb to it. “You have done so well. We will return you to your home. We will let you rest.”
“No.” The word tears itself out of her throat, ragged and sharp. “I don’t want to rest. I want Blaise back.”
Silence. “The mortal is dead. No one could have survived a blast from--”
“You’re Gods!” Cella snaps. “Don’t tell me he’s gone. You can do anything. I’ve seen you do it. You’ve done it through me! Do not tell me he’s gone.”
“There is nothing--”
“I have been your hands. I have been your eyes. I have worked your fucking wonders in this world and put you back in your fucking temples. I did what you asked me to, and no one helped me but him. When I would have given up and told you all to go fuck yourselves, he told me to keep going. He is the brightest thing in this fucking world, and you will bring him back to me, or I’ll...” Cella trails off, not even sure what she’ll do. She’s crying, tears sliding hot and fast down her face. To be at the end of this journey and not have Blaise is unbearable, unthinkable.
“Wait.”
“Linnea.”
“She has done us a great service. Without her, we would be nothing. We can do this for her. I can do this for her. Cella. Go to him. I will call him home to you.”
Linnea, the Goddess of Death and Darkness, her voice like a cool spring, her power flowing through Cella’s veins like ice. Cella goes to Blaise’s body, and she sits hard, pulling him into her lap. Her tears splash onto that face that she knows so well. His eyes stare, sightless, and she closes them with shaking hands, letting out a harsh breath. “What do I do?”
“Place your hand over his heart,” Linnea says in her mind. “And call him home with your own. I will do the rest.”
Cella obeys, eyes shut tight, calling to the only person she’s ever loved with as much power as she can muster. She’s so tired. She’s sore and worn out, and she wants her body to be her own again, but she’d sacrifice whatever she had to to get Blaise back.
Please, Blaise. Please, please, please. Come back to me. I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to. Please come back. Please.
Her hands glow with a grey tinged light, and a loud, droning hum fills her head until she thinks it will burst with the sound. And then--faintly, under her palm, a heartbeat. Slow and stuttering at first, but then steady and strong. Alive.
Cella’s eyes fly open, and she gasps when she looks down to see Blaise looking up at her. He lifts a shaky hand and touches her face. You’re alive, flashes across her mind in his familiar voice, and she sobs.
It’s a while before she has control over herself, and sometime during her breakdown, the Gods leave her. When she wipes her eyes and kisses Blaise, it’s just the two of them, for the first time since they met, and it’s an experience Cella will never forget.
“Zaaaaane,” Cella says back without looking up from her book.
“Cellaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.”
“What?” she asks, still not glancing up. She’s jostled when Zane throws himself down onto the couch beside her, leaning into her personal space. She doesn’t even need to look at him to know he’ll be pouting.
“I’m bored.”
“Mm. Tragic.”
“I’m bored and Ed’s busy.”
“How will you survive?”
“I won’t. I’m dyyyyyying.”
Cella snorts and glances at him, amused at his pitiful expression. His head drops onto her shoulder, and it’s a mark of how ridiculously fond she is of this goofball that she’s not actually annoyed at the interruption. “What do you want me to do about it?” she asks, one eyebrow arched.
“Pet me?”
She rolls her eyes, but lifts her book, and seconds later her lap is being filled by Zane in the form of a small cat. He curls up, purring happily, and Cella shakes her head.
Her book gets held up by magic, and she turns pages with one hand, the other stroking Zane’s soft fur. He seems utterly relaxed, and it’s actually quite soothing for her, as well, and they pass the afternoon in companionable silence.
[cracks my gotdamn knuckles] okay. what is Nic's favorite meal? What is Cella's favorite outfit? What are three of Pip's pet peeves? What are Jamie's favorite weekend activities? What is Wren's favorite kind of song to sing? What's Gabe's favorite time of year and why? What is Gid's favorite food and drink? What are your muses' favorite things about my muses? [waggles brows]
Oh jesus. Okay.
Nic’s favorite meal is chicken alfredo with bacon. Boy loves him a cream sauce.
Cella’s favorite outfit is usually something like jeans and a sports bra because it’s comfortable and she is hella confident about her rock hard abs.
Pip’s pet peeves (that alliteration tho):
people who get in front of him driving slow
under seasoned food
people who are rude for no reason
Jamie is 100% a lazy fucker on the weekends. He likes to sleep in, draw, watch tv, maybe go out for dinner, take a nap, play some video games, hang out with his partner, take another nap.
Wren enjoys songs that build. They like soaring high notes, so usually they end up singing opera songs.
Gabe is an early summer boy. He likes hanging around outside when it’s hot, and loves how it cools off at night so he can chill on the fire escape and smoke.
Gideon loves strawberry lemonade and anything meat and potatoes.
Jesus, Punky, we’ll be here all day. Imma do not all of my muses because damn.
Nic loves that Arkiem is so caring. He loves that Zane is so fearlessly himself when it comes to the things he care about and enjoys. He loves that Zana is so kind, even when the world is mean.
Tobias’ favorite thing about Liam is how strong he is and how soft he can be.
Ed’s favorite thing about Zane is pretty much everything. He loves how Zane makes him feel important and wanted and how easy it is to be himself around Zane. He loves that Zana is so open and warm. He loves Ryan’s dedication to his work and to his friends and to Ed and how loyal he is.
Pip loves how much personality and affection Zana has in such a small person.
Cella loves how Blaise doesn’t let his muteness stop him from doing anything, and she loves how he makes her feel.
Gideon thinks Austere is magic. Everything about him is fascinating and amazing and new, and he’s honestly never been so drawn to another person.
“Oh, shit,” Ed mutters, leaning closer to Zane. “He’s dead.”
Zane nods. “Dead. He’s deader than dead. He’s so fucked it’s not even funny.”
Cella is standing in front of their latest foe, some cocky asshole in too much spandex with an obvious ego problem, and, admittedly, good taste in women judging from how he’s looking at Cella.
For her part, Cella looks like she’s going to commit a murder, anger flashing in her eyes. Unbeknownst to Ed and Zane, a voice drifts across Cella’s mind: ‘I don’t think you should kill him’.
Her eyes glow purple with her power, and Cella cracks her knuckles. “I’m not going to kill him. He can survive without his dick, can’t he?”
The guy pales, Zane chokes on a laugh, and Cella considers the question answered.
The Tower's too big to decorate but the Titans decorate the living room at least. The core five had been called away by an alert, leaving Blaise to finish hanging garland and the like. By the time they get back, tired but victorious, he's finished putting everything away. His smile is soft when he sees them come in. it's Zane that spots the mistletoe he's under. He pushes Cella toward him with a grin, ignoring her protests before running off. Blaise just smiles & tips her head up for a kiss.
Traditions are silly is what she always tells herself. Getting used to anything is a terrible idea because holding onto things is impossible. Except maybe it isn’t. She’s had her team for years now, and now she has...this.
Cella rolls her eyes at Zane’s shoving and quirks a smirk at Blaise before kissing him back, fingers sliding momentarily into his hair.
Ed wolfwhistles from somewhere near the door, and Cella flicks her fingers to send a pillow flying towards his face.
It’s quiet in the loft for the moment, save the sound of the kettle heating up and the tap tap tap of a beak on the window. Cella’s already tried to let the bird out twice, and it seems content to just sit on the sill and tap on the glass, so she’s just letting it get on with it.
She stands in front of the sink, clearing up the dishes from lunch, dressed for the warm weather in cropped leggings and a sports bra, her hair pulled up into a sloppy bun on the top of her head. Around her neck is a leather cord and hanging from it, a stone inscribed with a rune, the pendant settled in the valley of her cleavage. Her feet are bare, and they tap along with the bird’s staccato rhythm as she washes a mug and then presses it into service for a cup of tea.
Soft footsteps alert her to the presence of the other occupant of the loft, always quiet, and she smiles to herself as she pulls down a jar of her favorite tea blend (peppermint, vanilla, chamomile--for calm) and spoons a serving into the strainer.
“Tea?” she asks, her voice hushed.
Please, flashes through her head, and she nods, fetching another cup from the cabinet above her head, increasing the tea in the strainer, second nature by now.
Blaise has barely made it over to the kitchen area before Cella’s shadow is splitting, a tendril snaking out, taking form to wrap around one of Blaise’s wrists and pull him closer. She lets it happen.
She can practically hear Blaise’s smile as he steps up behind her, arms going around her waist, warm lips pressed to the crook of her neck. He’s taller than her by a good half a foot, and he has to bend down to kiss her skin, but she likes that. Likes the protective shell around her body, guarding her back as she knows he would if there were cause for it.
She’s fought her whole life to be good, to keep her magic untainted, but if anyone were to come after Blaise, if they wanted to turn him into a wreck of blood and pain as he’d been when she’d first found him, she would summon all the darkness she could command in a heartbeat.
It’s the nature of love, she thinks, and it goes both ways.
Come nap with me.
Cella forgets her dark thoughts and smiles. “What about the tea?”
Bring it with you.
“You have an answer for everything. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Blaise withdraws with one last kiss to her shoulder, and Cella turns her head to watch him lope back to the bedroom, hair messy and pants low on his hips. She inhales the scent of tea as she pours boiling water over the loose leaves, and she loves.
Full Name: Cella Annabelle LeHaneGender and Sexuality: Female, mostly attracted to menPronouns: she/herEthnicity/Species: african american/humanBirthplace and Birthdate: She was born in the south, and I wanna say she’s a sagittarius, so her birthday is like late November.Guilty Pleasures: doing absolutely nothing, eating an entire pint of ice cream, coffee that is more milk and whipped cream than coffee.Phobias: she has a fear of losing her mind and a fear of never living her own life.What They Would Be Famous For: she could be a famous kickboxer if she worked at it, but she’s more likely to be infamous for doing something impulsive.What They Would Get Arrested For: punching the wrong person in the face.OC You Ship Them With: Blaise, naturally.OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Oh god. I mean, Zeth is the main antagonist in the verse she comes from, so him, but I don’t know who else would. Favorite Movie/Book Genre: action-y shit and fantasy books.Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: when a woman gives up everything for a dude.Talents and/or Powers: in modern verse she’s a talented kickboxer and can use sign language fluently. in her default verse, she’s a living vessel, so she takes on the powers of whatever’s possessing her at the time. also she can shoot a crossbow and use a sword with ease.Why Someone Might Love Them: because she’s loyal and hardworking and will do anything she can to defend people who she cares about.Why Someone Might Hate Them: because she’s stubborn and rude and has very little patience.How They Change: she learns to work on her temper better and to not lash out as much. she learns that it’s okay to change, actually.Why You Love Them: i love cella because she’s blunt as hell and strong in ways i’ll never be. and because she doesn’t run from the things she wants. also she’s ripped and bad ass.
