Zelos Wilder (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
chosen_gigolo) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
caughtinanetwork2012-04-25 01:22 pm
chosen_gigolo) wrote in caughtinanetwork2012-04-25 01:22 pm
Entry tags:
[Dream - Interactive!]
[Cruxian angels don't need to sleep save for what little the brain requires to keep functioning properly. Zelos is no exception to this rule and schedules one day a week to rest and recharge his mental faculties, having learned the hard way that not doing so meant losing precious control over his words, so Wednesday night finds him tucked away in bed, hair braided to keep it from tangling as he moves in the night.
But of course, as is usual for Vatheon, Tethe'alla's Chosen is not left in peace even to sleep.
The Dreamberry, as the SFCs had turned into this week, clicks on and broadcasts not the usual more angular features of the adult Zelos Wilder, but instead a young boy no more than seven...]
[The scene is one of a well tended rose garden, blossoms in full bloom and reaching for the sun in every sunset shade from the lightest pastel yellow to the deepest, almost purple-y red. The young Zelos sits in the shade of one of the bushes, plucking blades of grass from between his sprawled legs, bored and neglected. Mother had sent him away, Father was away again on "business" (and Zelos, being a bright child, is well aware of what sort of "business" his father attends to, the kind with simpering laughs and too much perfume...), and even Sebastian is too busy with matters of the household to play with him today. So he sits alone in the shade and tells his troubles to the roses...]
That funeral the other day... so I'm the Chosen, now? Why would they commit suicide? It's good, to be special. Everyone has to love you, then.
[The world is an ocean of whiteness and the young Zelos sinks halfway up his shins trying to run through it, leaving little divots behind to slowly be filled up by the falling snow. He spins happily, laughing and sticking his tongue out to catch snowflakes, kicking a spray of powder into the air in front of him and watching it float back down to earth. There's something magical about the world in white this way, something pure, and the young Chosen runs here and there across the garden as if it's an entirely new place, as if he'd never seen it before.
Finally he calms in his running around, whirling to face the figure behind him with a large smile, face flushed pink from exertion and the biting cold.]
Mother! Isn't it wonderful?! Let's make a snowman!
[In the waking world, the adult Zelos tosses in his sheets, unsettled by the depictions of his unconscious mind.]
((ooc: Please specify in the comment subject whether your character is responding in video or interacting with the dream! Hopefully it's clear but just in case... other characters can interact with bitty!Zelos in the first dream as they like. The second is for Zelda to respond to, but other characters are welcome to witness it as it unfolds and say something via SFC/Dreamberry if they so choose. I warn you Zelos might flip his shit about people seeing that though...))
But of course, as is usual for Vatheon, Tethe'alla's Chosen is not left in peace even to sleep.
The Dreamberry, as the SFCs had turned into this week, clicks on and broadcasts not the usual more angular features of the adult Zelos Wilder, but instead a young boy no more than seven...]
[The scene is one of a well tended rose garden, blossoms in full bloom and reaching for the sun in every sunset shade from the lightest pastel yellow to the deepest, almost purple-y red. The young Zelos sits in the shade of one of the bushes, plucking blades of grass from between his sprawled legs, bored and neglected. Mother had sent him away, Father was away again on "business" (and Zelos, being a bright child, is well aware of what sort of "business" his father attends to, the kind with simpering laughs and too much perfume...), and even Sebastian is too busy with matters of the household to play with him today. So he sits alone in the shade and tells his troubles to the roses...]
That funeral the other day... so I'm the Chosen, now? Why would they commit suicide? It's good, to be special. Everyone has to love you, then.
[The world is an ocean of whiteness and the young Zelos sinks halfway up his shins trying to run through it, leaving little divots behind to slowly be filled up by the falling snow. He spins happily, laughing and sticking his tongue out to catch snowflakes, kicking a spray of powder into the air in front of him and watching it float back down to earth. There's something magical about the world in white this way, something pure, and the young Chosen runs here and there across the garden as if it's an entirely new place, as if he'd never seen it before.
Finally he calms in his running around, whirling to face the figure behind him with a large smile, face flushed pink from exertion and the biting cold.]
Mother! Isn't it wonderful?! Let's make a snowman!
[In the waking world, the adult Zelos tosses in his sheets, unsettled by the depictions of his unconscious mind.]
((ooc: Please specify in the comment subject whether your character is responding in video or interacting with the dream! Hopefully it's clear but just in case... other characters can interact with bitty!Zelos in the first dream as they like. The second is for Zelda to respond to, but other characters are welcome to witness it as it unfolds and say something via SFC/Dreamberry if they so choose. I warn you Zelos might flip his shit about people seeing that though...))
no subject
'Mean' is such an ill defined word. It can be anything from kicking over a sand castle to a brutal lashing for no reason. His mother had never done that, never raised a hand to him in his life to strike him or physically harm him in any way. In fact, she barely looked at him most days, much less hit him. There were days when the sun came out, when she would try to play with him or coddle him; brush his hair, hold him close. He lived for those moments, the brief times when she wouldn't be crying or having a headache or saying just how much he looked like his father.
He hated that most. She would murmur over how alike they seemed and then she would push him away - never roughly - as if his presence was painful and leave him to play by himself. He hated to be anything like his father, that man with the same hair as his who made his mother so sad. He hates that it's his fault Mother is stuck with him in the first place, that because he had to be born, his Mother had to be miserable.
All he did was make her miserable.
It's not mean to not want to suffer the presence of someone like that.
He keeps smiling to Gailardia as if he can hide behind it, as if the smile will protect him from feeling alone or afraid or abandoned. It's an obvious wall, something ill constructed, but it's all he has for now.]
She's not mean, she just gets headaches sometimes and I was being too loud. C'mon, though. We can keep trying to find your sister.
no subject
[This... this is a little confusing. Zelos' words say one thing, but his smile is so sad! Why would a smile be that sad?
That... that wasn't very fair.
Small fingers, still held against Zelos' hand, grasp just a little tighter, fisting themselves into the fabric of his sleeve. He wasn't gonna cry he WASN'T...]
P-please don't hurt.
Okay?
[He awkwardly glances down at his feet, shoes knocking together and shoulders drawing up.]
Even... even if she is hurting.
Y-you dun' need to hurt, too.
T's not your fault.
no subject
All because he had to be born, because he had to be the Chosen.
Zelos's eyes fill with tears and he can't quite keep that smile on his face, chin quivering as he looks away from the blonde, squeezing his hand back so tightly, afraid he'll leave too, afraid of being alone in this big mostly empty house to be silent and ignored and only taken out to be shown to guests like some prized doll or to go to church like he should, the perfect little angel.
All he wants, all he really wants, is for her to look at him just once without her eyes filling with tears...
Tears like the ones he can't keep from spilling down his cheeks and dripping from his chin onto the burgundy carpet.]
I-I'm fine. It's fine like this.
no subject
[He lets the elder boy's fingers hold tight, his heart clenching up with fear and hurt. There were tears - there were TEARS, oh he knew it. Zelos was hurting, he was sad, a-and... and did he just make it worse? He can feel the burning at his own eyes, seeing the pain of the other boy making him feel useless and lost.
Why... why was Zelos saying that? That wasn't the truth, was it? It couldn't be...]
P-people --[And he takes in a small breathe with a hiccup.] -- people aren't fine if they smile sad like that...! You shouldn't...
[He presses his lips together, the tears not stopping on his face, but summoning every last ounce of him to be brave. Be brave for Zelos. Not let him down when he was obviously hurting.]
S-smile for reals someday.
...P-please.
W-when things don't have to hurt.
Smile nice 'n big a-an' happy. For you, a-and for your momma...
T-then... then things w-will... b-be fine...
O-okay...? It... it...
[And he can't hold his composure any longer. His fists press tightly against Zelos as he leans onto the older boy's arm and sobs into his tunic.
He can't do anything. He's too small. He's too young. He's too scared.
But at least he could tell Mary that he tried for someone new.]
no subject
It is. It is my fault. Everything's...my...
[The whole world stops, blurring and colors bleeding into each other like a water colored painting that's too wet and the pigment runs off the edge of the page, leaving streaks and drips and somehow an empty page with only lines and then even those fade, leaving nothing but snowy white with Guy, the adult Guy, standing in the center of it alone save for the echo of a lonely seven year old's voice.]
My fault.
action/not here
All but those last few words. Those last, aching, lonely words of a little boy with hair of red, whose name even now he could barely recall.]