i love your downfall, sweetling
Title: Shine
Author: aizhen aschenhimmel/smirksweetly
Fandom: Aveyond 3
Pairing: Gyendal x Stella
Rating: PG for suggestive scenes(?)
Summary: Freedom is a star that breaks in her hand. GyenStella.
A/N: Dedicated to Kirroha. This is the much-delayed GyenStella fic Kirroha requested. XD I don't know if this is worth the wait DDX I think I've toned down the purple-ness, but it's still an angsty, dark oneshot. Once more I’ve let this fic stew for ages in my hard drive before finally finishing it (which included taking out one entire segment and deciding against one or two more). Warning for dark themes, Gyendal using terms of endearment, abuse of the word 'remember' and mangling of game events and canon. With that taken care of, let's get the ball rolling~
She remembers seeing stars. She remembers tiny white pinpricks of light hanging above her head, sprinkled across the wide dark sky, remembers the word 'starlight' and her name. She remembers hearing 'brightest star', and the meaningful, proud gaze directed to her, and she remembers the happiness.
She remembers reaching out, reaching up, her fingers wiggling in the night air and touching nothing. She remembers laughter (disembodied - she couldn't remember faces, not anymore) and the gentle reminder, "You cannot hold the stars, bright one."
She remembers the question, the insistence, the innocence. "But what if I can?"
"They'll probably break in your hand. Look at how small they are!"
She remembers looking at a dim, ripple-riddled reflection of herself. A child stares back at her, all round cheeks and wide eyes. Small and bright. Brightest star. "Will I break?"
She remembers nothing after. No stars, no sky, no reply.
Nevertheless, she would like to think that the answer had been 'no'.
---
She remembers a shadow. She remembers its eyes.
She remembers they were red. In the gentle blues and rainbow glints of her rough-walled home they stood out, piercing the other colors. She remembers questions, but no answers. There was a kind of pounding in her ears back then, a frightful cold beneath her skin. A shadow with red eyes and a white sharp smile. Eyes like red stars.
She remembers nothing after, nothing but the shadow's words --
"Aren't you beautiful, innocent."
-- and the warmth on her face.
---
She remembers voices and nothing else. Voices, back and forth, hesitating and smooth; she thinks of the pendulum, back in one of her people's homes, or the smooth murmurs of a pond. Voices but not words, save towards the end --
"What do you think of freedom, sweet one?"
"W-what?"
"How long have you been staying in here?"
A thoughtful, nervous pause. "Eleven, ten years."
"All alone?"
"Yes."
"No visitors, no leisurely excursions whatsoever?"
"S-sometimes the elders come to visit. Sometimes I go outside to see the stars." But not enough, her mind adds with a swirl of hurt. Not enough to remember the stars.
"And you are fine with this?"
"This is the life I'm destined for." It sounded flat to her ears. Brightest star of Naylith. But the memory was a faint echo.
He laughed, rich and low and dark. "You call this life, innocent?"
She trembled.
---
She remembers the stern, faintly worried faces of the elders. She remembers who she was. She remembers the question.
"Is something bothering you, guardian?"
And she remembers shaking her head. "Nothing."
At the back of her mind, she imagines his white sharp smile.
She thinks of what could have been if she answered 'yes'.
---
This is something so vivid, it could've happened last night.
She remembers the time he held her hand. His touch was ice-cold, his grip tight, and she knew that even if she tried to pull away she would only hurt herself more.
"If I offer you freedom, will you take it?" Fingers laced together, like one of those well-made lattices. White and rich tan. Cold, so cold, and so frighteningly perfect. "A life away from this cave. Where you can use those wings of yours."
She swallowed. It was tempting. No, more than that. Brightest star of Naylith. "There is a price, isn't it?" A lone star inside a cave.
"Aren't we cautious, sweetling." Just a quick smile, a flash of white, fanged and fascinating. "Of course there is. And the price --" She knew it even before he said it, but oh, somehow she didn't want to believe. "-- Is the orb."
It almost felt anticlimactic.
She closed her eyes, inhaled and prayed for courage. "No."
There was silence. Fear throbbed softly beneath her chest. Her eyes remained closed.
And then came his voice - so close and soft that he could only be whispering to her ear. "Don't you want to live, innocent? Don't you want to be happy?"
She was never good with lies, so she didn't answer those questions. But she had to say something, she had to be brave, she had to open her eyes and so she said, "By Aia, I've made a mistake when I let you come."
"But you let me." His voice was not the sound of defeat. She opened her eyes, averted her gaze - and he held her chin and made her look into his deep red stare. Like stars. “You could’ve said ‘no’ earlier, you could’ve driven me away with my magic, you could’ve clamped your hands over your ears and refused to listen.” She flushed, knowing that she had fallen into a delicate web of sweet words and lovely promises and relished it. “But you did not.”
And with his colorless lips he kissed her, brief and enchanting and dangerously chaste.
She did not move. She did nothing. She remembers his laughter as he leaned away and disappeared, his parting words echoing inside the cave that had been her home.
"Because deep in your little glass heart, innocent, you know I am right. You are sweet, innocent, but you are weak."
It was a long time before she moved, or felt anything at all.
---
This is where recollection becomes a nightmare.
She remembers standing in front of the orb. She remembers summoning her powers, the shimmering light reflected on a hundred crystals, the warmth running through her veins contrasting wildly with the nervous coldness of her skin.
This is where recollection becomes incomplete.
She remembers the pain, her noisy intakes of air. She remembers the finger tracing a path down the middle of her back, between the wings. She remembers the terror, the shadows, the stars in his eyes.
"So brave of you to put up a fight, sweetling." Even in the roughness of her memory, his voice stood out as smooth and perfect. "If you have sided with me - believed in me - everything would've been far more easier for us. But because of your stubborness I think we need a change of plans - and a little punishment." There was a gentle kiss on her tear-stained cheek. “Freedom could’ve been painless.”
She felt his hands touch the base of her wings, his lips on the back of her neck.
“Resistance is sweet, innocent. But in the end, you are mine.”
And then she screamed. She could not remember the pain but she screamed and screamed and desperately prayed for the darkness to overcome her.
It didn’t.
“Remember that.”
---
She remembers holding her throat as she ran.
Her throat hurt. It was as though her voice had been ripped along with her wings. The pain on her back throbbed, like a grotesque second heartbeat, only it pumped fear instead of blood.
The stars streaked ahead. They were beautiful and they mocked her.
---
She remembers falling.
She thinks she hasn't stopped.
---
She continues to fall here.
She remembers everything now. Every strand of memory that had been ripped from her mind, everything that had been taken to leave a hollow in her chest. She had picked up the pieces, cut her hands with the cold shards, tried to rebuild herself, but she couldn't recognize the face looking back at her.
She is a shapeless outline and a marred surface.
You are beautiful, innocent.
She stands before their shock and outrage, blank and numb and unreachable. She stands before them, the remains of the orb glittering at her feet - like stars, stars of Naylith, bright stars. And as her red eyes glow in the gentle blues and rainbow glint of a hundred crystals, like those rare red stars, she hears a whisper caress her broken self --
Your downfall is beautiful.
Author: aizhen aschenhimmel/smirksweetly
Fandom: Aveyond 3
Pairing: Gyendal x Stella
Rating: PG for suggestive scenes(?)
Summary: Freedom is a star that breaks in her hand. GyenStella.
A/N: Dedicated to Kirroha. This is the much-delayed GyenStella fic Kirroha requested. XD I don't know if this is worth the wait DDX I think I've toned down the purple-ness, but it's still an angsty, dark oneshot. Once more I’ve let this fic stew for ages in my hard drive before finally finishing it (which included taking out one entire segment and deciding against one or two more). Warning for dark themes, Gyendal using terms of endearment, abuse of the word 'remember' and mangling of game events and canon. With that taken care of, let's get the ball rolling~
She remembers seeing stars. She remembers tiny white pinpricks of light hanging above her head, sprinkled across the wide dark sky, remembers the word 'starlight' and her name. She remembers hearing 'brightest star', and the meaningful, proud gaze directed to her, and she remembers the happiness.
She remembers reaching out, reaching up, her fingers wiggling in the night air and touching nothing. She remembers laughter (disembodied - she couldn't remember faces, not anymore) and the gentle reminder, "You cannot hold the stars, bright one."
She remembers the question, the insistence, the innocence. "But what if I can?"
"They'll probably break in your hand. Look at how small they are!"
She remembers looking at a dim, ripple-riddled reflection of herself. A child stares back at her, all round cheeks and wide eyes. Small and bright. Brightest star. "Will I break?"
She remembers nothing after. No stars, no sky, no reply.
Nevertheless, she would like to think that the answer had been 'no'.
---
She remembers a shadow. She remembers its eyes.
She remembers they were red. In the gentle blues and rainbow glints of her rough-walled home they stood out, piercing the other colors. She remembers questions, but no answers. There was a kind of pounding in her ears back then, a frightful cold beneath her skin. A shadow with red eyes and a white sharp smile. Eyes like red stars.
She remembers nothing after, nothing but the shadow's words --
"Aren't you beautiful, innocent."
-- and the warmth on her face.
---
She remembers voices and nothing else. Voices, back and forth, hesitating and smooth; she thinks of the pendulum, back in one of her people's homes, or the smooth murmurs of a pond. Voices but not words, save towards the end --
"What do you think of freedom, sweet one?"
"W-what?"
"How long have you been staying in here?"
A thoughtful, nervous pause. "Eleven, ten years."
"All alone?"
"Yes."
"No visitors, no leisurely excursions whatsoever?"
"S-sometimes the elders come to visit. Sometimes I go outside to see the stars." But not enough, her mind adds with a swirl of hurt. Not enough to remember the stars.
"And you are fine with this?"
"This is the life I'm destined for." It sounded flat to her ears. Brightest star of Naylith. But the memory was a faint echo.
He laughed, rich and low and dark. "You call this life, innocent?"
She trembled.
---
She remembers the stern, faintly worried faces of the elders. She remembers who she was. She remembers the question.
"Is something bothering you, guardian?"
And she remembers shaking her head. "Nothing."
At the back of her mind, she imagines his white sharp smile.
She thinks of what could have been if she answered 'yes'.
---
This is something so vivid, it could've happened last night.
She remembers the time he held her hand. His touch was ice-cold, his grip tight, and she knew that even if she tried to pull away she would only hurt herself more.
"If I offer you freedom, will you take it?" Fingers laced together, like one of those well-made lattices. White and rich tan. Cold, so cold, and so frighteningly perfect. "A life away from this cave. Where you can use those wings of yours."
She swallowed. It was tempting. No, more than that. Brightest star of Naylith. "There is a price, isn't it?" A lone star inside a cave.
"Aren't we cautious, sweetling." Just a quick smile, a flash of white, fanged and fascinating. "Of course there is. And the price --" She knew it even before he said it, but oh, somehow she didn't want to believe. "-- Is the orb."
It almost felt anticlimactic.
She closed her eyes, inhaled and prayed for courage. "No."
There was silence. Fear throbbed softly beneath her chest. Her eyes remained closed.
And then came his voice - so close and soft that he could only be whispering to her ear. "Don't you want to live, innocent? Don't you want to be happy?"
She was never good with lies, so she didn't answer those questions. But she had to say something, she had to be brave, she had to open her eyes and so she said, "By Aia, I've made a mistake when I let you come."
"But you let me." His voice was not the sound of defeat. She opened her eyes, averted her gaze - and he held her chin and made her look into his deep red stare. Like stars. “You could’ve said ‘no’ earlier, you could’ve driven me away with my magic, you could’ve clamped your hands over your ears and refused to listen.” She flushed, knowing that she had fallen into a delicate web of sweet words and lovely promises and relished it. “But you did not.”
And with his colorless lips he kissed her, brief and enchanting and dangerously chaste.
She did not move. She did nothing. She remembers his laughter as he leaned away and disappeared, his parting words echoing inside the cave that had been her home.
"Because deep in your little glass heart, innocent, you know I am right. You are sweet, innocent, but you are weak."
It was a long time before she moved, or felt anything at all.
---
This is where recollection becomes a nightmare.
She remembers standing in front of the orb. She remembers summoning her powers, the shimmering light reflected on a hundred crystals, the warmth running through her veins contrasting wildly with the nervous coldness of her skin.
This is where recollection becomes incomplete.
She remembers the pain, her noisy intakes of air. She remembers the finger tracing a path down the middle of her back, between the wings. She remembers the terror, the shadows, the stars in his eyes.
"So brave of you to put up a fight, sweetling." Even in the roughness of her memory, his voice stood out as smooth and perfect. "If you have sided with me - believed in me - everything would've been far more easier for us. But because of your stubborness I think we need a change of plans - and a little punishment." There was a gentle kiss on her tear-stained cheek. “Freedom could’ve been painless.”
She felt his hands touch the base of her wings, his lips on the back of her neck.
“Resistance is sweet, innocent. But in the end, you are mine.”
And then she screamed. She could not remember the pain but she screamed and screamed and desperately prayed for the darkness to overcome her.
It didn’t.
“Remember that.”
---
She remembers holding her throat as she ran.
Her throat hurt. It was as though her voice had been ripped along with her wings. The pain on her back throbbed, like a grotesque second heartbeat, only it pumped fear instead of blood.
The stars streaked ahead. They were beautiful and they mocked her.
---
She remembers falling.
She thinks she hasn't stopped.
---
She continues to fall here.
She remembers everything now. Every strand of memory that had been ripped from her mind, everything that had been taken to leave a hollow in her chest. She had picked up the pieces, cut her hands with the cold shards, tried to rebuild herself, but she couldn't recognize the face looking back at her.
She is a shapeless outline and a marred surface.
You are beautiful, innocent.
She stands before their shock and outrage, blank and numb and unreachable. She stands before them, the remains of the orb glittering at her feet - like stars, stars of Naylith, bright stars. And as her red eyes glow in the gentle blues and rainbow glint of a hundred crystals, like those rare red stars, she hears a whisper caress her broken self --
Your downfall is beautiful.