drenched in your own sweat and tears [leaving/cappella]
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Haylyn. She
Come out and Haunt me
Inaria
*****
Posts: 10
Pronouns: She















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#1

ooc: set 3-4 days after wheatley's death.




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#8da399

No, it's not always easy. Of the day it happened, she couldn't sleep. Staying up throughout the night, mind racing, full of regret, eyes swollen and stinging and yet it still felt like she hadn't cried enough. Don't touch me, DON'T TOUCH ME, GET HELP. She would not leave his side, clutching onto pale blue and onyx fur, sobbing against his cold body. I can't, I c-can't leave him. My baby boy! No NOT HIM. It wasn't supposed to be this way.

No mother was supposed to outlive her children, her life riddled with loses, but this one surely hit her the hardest. From a mother, a father-figure, to a brother, a mate, and now a child. Every inch of this place was a reminder of everything that hurt her. Everywhere was a memory waiting to be relived, and she just... couldn't do that to herself anymore.

Over the course of the days to come, her mind in turmoil, the pale woman hadn't eaten, slept, or seen anyone. Those who did stop by her den were met with resounding silence or calm remarks to leave that turned into the sobbing shrieks of a mother. She had sunk like a stone, her winter was back early.

Erratic, but determined, it was the best way to describe how she finally moved out of her den, shying away from the bright sunlight of a quiet afternoon. Hurrying along with newfound purpose, her mind moving a million miles a second. Spaced out on something unreal, she paused before a den. The woman's jaw clenching as anxiety began to bubble in her stomach. "Hashmal... I need to speak with you." Her voice cracking and hoarse from nights of sobbing, but there came no answer. Her son was out for the day.

The fear fought and climbed its way up her throat, there was another who lived in this den, but dare she even say the woman's name? Her own daughter. How long had it been? Perhaps years? It surely felt like it. They had been avoiding each other all this time. "Cap- Cappella, are you home? It's your—" SHE AINT MY FUCKING MOTHER! It was like a fresh wound that still stung on her ears, breath rattling. "Haylyn, it's Haylyn." It was said weakly, tired just as her disheveled appearance. "I'd like to... talk." Clear blue eyes looking for movement in that dark den of theirs. You get lost countin' the years, since you last felt like you were home.





What if to love and be loved's not enough?
What if I fall and can't bear to get up?
Oh, I wish, for once, it could stay gold
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Cappella She/her
Inaria
Inaria
*****
Posts: 7
Pronouns: She/her
Location: Inaria
Rank [IC]: Subordinate
Played By: Frost















All Accounts Posts: 178
#2
(This post was last modified: June 13, 2018, 12:24:03 AM by Cappella.)








The news had spread around Inaria like wildfire - the Prince was dead. Leonora had found her way back to the family den that night, trembling like a leaf. She refused to speak, no matter how much Cappella and Hashmal tried. They stayed close to her during the night till she passed out, both of them unsure how to approach the situation. They had both experienced much in their lives, but they never wished for their child to go through trauma. They had no idea how to comfort her.

When she finally did speak, Cappella grew more worried.

"It's my fault, it's my fault, I let him die, I should have helped him, I killed him-"

Oh my little fiore, Cappella thought, you did your best. You did everything you could do, you couldn't stop what was happening. Inaria would be so empty without your smile, without your light that shines bright through the cracks. Inaria needed sweet souls like you, those who always wanted to help. Leonora was too pure to be capable of the horror of taking someones life - and Cappella would always do it so she would never have to.

She and Hashmal had taken turns in staying awake during the night to make sure their daughter was alright. Today, Hashmal had convinced Leonora to go out and tend to the gardens - she was always a keen gardener. Cappella decided to sleep in for the morning, but a voice woke her up.

"Cap- Cappella, are you home? It's your—Haylyn, it's Haylyn. I'd like to... talk."

She emerges from the den looking exhausted herself, but nowhere near to the extent that the former Queen was. "Haylyn..." She had not seen Haylyn since the confrontation that had gotten Kita demoted, before Cappella had left and become enslaved by Saboro. There was an awkward moment of silence as the pair just stared at each other, unsure where to start. The young girl that Haylyn adopted had grown into a battle-scared woman, still with that fiery personality that was a little more contained.

Cautiously, the italian woman approaches, pausing before the silver woman. Haylyn had a lot of love to give, and all throughout Cappella's life she had craved that love. It was only when she emerged from the Saboran war, beaten and bruised, did she realise that her family was not just those related by blood - but those who she would fight to protect. Those that she would die for. Those that she loved and knew that they loved her just as much. Hashmal, Haven, Kashmir-

Haylyn.

"I'm sorry." She croaked, embracing her mother by pressing her face against her neck.

For everything.









And you've been crying out for forever,
But forever's come and gone,
You keep begging for forgiveness,
But you don't think you've done wrong.

MY BLEEDING HANDS, MY SHAKING HEAD.
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Haylyn. She
Come out and Haunt me
Inaria
*****
Posts: 10
Pronouns: She















All Accounts Posts: 392
#3



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#8da399

A shadowy figure finally came to greet her, in those familiar hues of black, blues, and white. Amber eyes staring straight back into pristine blue, and Haylyn felt as though she couldn't breathe. The bullheaded girl, loud and angry, with so much to prove stood before her, but instead of a girl, the pale ex-Queen saw a full grown woman. Her face cut by scars, and if she moved her head to investigate further, she'd see her back and scruff littered with them as well.

She flinched, as if on instinct, a mother wishing to tend to her child, and press her nose to that scarred flesh, but she was able to stop herself. Bobbing forward just a bit, before swallowing hard and looking away. Flinching even when she heard the younger woman say her name, expecting some harsh words to follow after it, knowing she deserved whatever Cappella slung at her. Back then, she didn't know how true those words were.

But it never came, Haylyn looked up surprised as she greeted Cappella's gaze with her own, the silence between them insufferable. Skin scrawled, and the air felt as if it wanted to choke her, perhaps Cappella was just letting it sink in before she lashed out. A real mother would have been there for her children. A real mother wouldn't have let all the weight from all her problems get the best of her. A real mother would have protected them from harm. Why, why do you even call yourself mother?

Haylyn breathed out a shaky breath stepping forward. "Cappella, I—" But the dark female spoke, and Haylyn's words fell silent as Cappella's head met nuzzled into the fluff of her neck. She froze, body tense, and all the world quieted around them. When she was small all Cappella had done was push Haylyn away, the more the pale woman tried to share her love with the girl, the angrier she seemed to become. This was it, this was all Haylyn had wanted. A hug, a hug from a daughter she had lost a long time ago.

Her paw instinctively rose up to gently drape across the other's back, pull her in closer. That brave face she had put on earlier had crumbled, lower lip quivering as her eyes glistened with fresh tears rolling down those pale cheeks once more. Her sobs were quiet, body shook with small tremors, and her toes curled tighter into Cappella's dark fur, cheek brushing against the side of the girl's face.

The pale woman stayed like this for sometime, not wanting to let go for fear that it might not be true, but when she did pull back just enough so that she could eye Cappella, tears still gathering in her eyes as she sniffled and composed herself just enough to speak, "I should be the one apologizing. I should have been there, you mean so much to me and I should have been there." Nose brushing gently against those scars. "What was I even thinking?" Came a hiccuped reply, looking up to the sky as if it had the answer. "I'm s-so proud of you. I've always b-been. I w-want you to k-know that." Her voice wavering while holding back a sob. Between the guilt of what happened to Wheatley and what seemed like the metaphorical executioner standing before her. "Can you ever forgive me?" It was a lot to ask, she knew it was.





What if to love and be loved's not enough?
What if I fall and can't bear to get up?
Oh, I wish, for once, it could stay gold
« profile played by: waka »



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