ah... memories.
YOU HAVE PLENTY OF THOSE. too many, actually—— more than one lifetime's worth and some aren't even your own. you've died and come back. you've held stars in your hands and watched them burn and fizzle out into nothing. loved, lost, and consumed. the phoenix hovers just beneath your skin, always there, always waiting. it's a fire you can't quite snuff out, no matter how hard you desperately try. [and god, you do try.] celeste has controlled the phoenix before, wielding its power with a rare grip, but even her experience doesn't fully capture what you've endured. the other cuckoos flit through minds like a game, borrowing and reshaping what isn't theirs. what you've lived through demands more than simple telepathy; it takes heart. and it's something you still aren't sure you have enough of—— you're afraid your heart has been burned to its core.
you swallow the burn of anger in your throat, pushing it down to the same location where you've locked the phoenix. for now. the topic of memories makes you feel old, something worn—— it's evident in the energy your irises carry: careful yet tired. your right hand clasps around the nape of your neck, lips pursing. ❝ memories aren't always what they seem, celeste. ❞ you know the blonde is more interested in the game of it all—— dissecting thoughts, taking control, shaping her own personal world with the flick of her mind. [outside the realm of the other two voices inside her head.] that revelation, more than anything, causes you to aim your words more carefully.
❝ they can hold you in place, act as an anchor of sorts—— or they can pull you under the water... end up drowning you. ❞ just as yours do daily.
