Diary of My Demons: Entry #?? Aug 1, 2022 9:09:53 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Aug 1, 2022 9:09:53 GMT -5
The Western Wilds
8 Years Ago
Celeste felt herself falling apart, broken into someone less than who she believed herself meant to be. The steps that carried her across the boardwalk would drown out her sobs, tears too thick to ascertain her own footing. She felt weightless without warning, nauseous from the freefall, unable to shuffle her feet. All she could remember was falling, scraping palm, arm and knee against the weathered boards that would catch her tumble. Celeste would wince at the pain, though as she came to open her eyes, something rather unsettling would catch her gaze. It must have been a trick of the lighting perhaps, there was no way that could have been her own reflection. Could it? She peered through the cracks between the planks to try to get a better glimpse of it, though with all the commotion in the water from the wind, there was no way to be certain just what she was seeing on the surface.
The witch slowly pushed herself up to sit, bringing her fingertips to caress the dampened softness of her cheeks, stained with the streams of her emotions. Celeste felt her hands ball into fists and fall, as she fought back another wave of grievance, forcing herself to stand instead. She mustered every ounce of her will that she could to pull herself out of these hellish depths of despair. Though what would she find in the windows of the nearest home, might certainly strike fear into its residents, were the hours of the sun upon them – were their eyes to fall upon her.
Maybe...it wasn’t a trick of the light after all?
Celeste felt her breath slow in her lungs as she took a few steps closer to the glass, reaching up to her eyes once more; the very sight would horrify and disturb the witch. Her irises retained an abnormal glow about them, and her sclera had become entirely black. She felt her lips quiver as she shook - ”W-what...? What is-?” she could only muster on the weak air that escaped them. The blond backed away in terror, shaking her head in denial as though everything about tonight was naught but a nightmare. She’d wake up any minute now, in the comfort of her own bed, in the graces of reassurance that none of this was real.
None of this was real.
The sound of approaching footsteps would startle the blond, fearful that someone may discover her secret, she did her best to cover her hair with the violet shawl draped over her shoulders. A figure in the moonlight, cloaked in whites and browns, emptied hands drawn down to their sides without words. The cold of the night came with a sting across her hands, gripped tight around the fabrics that fought for warmth.
”W-Who’s there? Grandfather?”
The figure shook its head slowly, another set of steps taken. The girl would back away in slowly, still equal in time. She couldn’t hide the scowl that took hold, the bite of the winter air nipping at her lips. A spark of static brought to life in her fingertips, only for the bolts to short against her command, then fizzle out. Celeste shot her hand a wide-eyed glance of disbelief, before dread would direct her gaze back to the mysterious figure. No steps taken, yet the darkness where their hidden face out to have been remained obscured in the light and growing drizzle. Celeste would feel her blood quicken, the rest of her being chilled to the bone.
”You have her eyes.”
The comment made the witch stammer for a moment, uncertain how to respond to the remark of the stranger. When she opened her mouth to speak, there came a shouting – a familiar voice in the darkness carrying with it a light. She had possibly been searching for hours, doubtless she heard about what happened with Selene.
”Celeste! Are you out here!?”
A glance to witness Lia, her surrogate sister, arriving with a torch in hand. ”Hey! Are you alright?” The older witch offer a glance back to where the figure had been, the path as vacant as it always was this time of night. The patter of the raindrops would still her thoughts, the blond wondering just who or what that had possibly been.
”Celeste! It’s time to wake up.”
”Stop talking. I know you’re not real.”
The sheets were pulled over her head, the girl rolling over onto her other side with a grunt. It was happening again, the premonitions to another potential incident. Her powers might inevitably suffer another hiccup, despite all her efforts to advance her understandings of it. The stress of being here, still dedicating herself to a promise she wanted to keep, was possibly weighing heavily on them. Side effects showed when it was getting worse, lack of sleep, irresistible urges she wasn’t entirely certain were her own. There was still no way to understand how to process all of this, the bitter truth that she wasn’t even human, not really when it came down to the very nature of her soul.
It is the truth I have always suspected, granddaughter. You are a demonic essence, bound perfectly in human flesh.
The sound of his voice, those words, they still ate at her very core even to this day, this very minute. The desperation to never hear it again, to find some way to rectify her own condition was becoming too great to drown out. The morning had been spent crying, ‘playing’ with her ability to alter forms, and staring her reflection down for hours under influence of the change. Those blackened sclera, the way that otherworldly energy seemed to burn at the edges of her skin, nothing about it was human. These symptoms had only worsened since leaving the village, accelerated after discovering a means to traverse the void through a lifeless realm, the continued use having worn on the frailty of her sanity. Nothing about it was normal.
”Go away, Lia.”
The apparition would frown from beneath her sakura bangs.
”Do we not matter anymore? Did you forget about your promise?”
Celeste felt the tear begin to well again, tugging the sheets closer as she sobbed into them.
”Nothing does if I can’t find him. I can’t bring any of you back if I’m dead too.”
There was a long silence, a glare of the afternoon sun from beyond the room hit the bed, a rather peaceful afternoon given the world awaited beyond the glass door. She didn’t have the courage to try and face it, not when she couldn’t take her mind off of a certain someone. Days bled into weeks it felt, the desire over finding that saiyan slowly growing into an obsession. Within that malignant curse, Celeste saw her future; a means to possibly further understand how to stop her own corruption, to stop these powers from killing her before it was time.
Nobody could understand, not truly.
These secrets were Celeste’s to keep, hers alone. What would anyone say when they learned what she really was? She remembered the way some used to look at her like some kind of monster. Who could accept the help of one, much less care about a demon? The witch couldn’t help but let slip a gasp, wet eyes widening in disbelief with herself. What- why was she having these thoughts? It wasn’t the reason she was left at that Mercenary Outpost, was it?
”Do you think he hates you because he left?”
The witch tried to play dumb.
The apparition of the dead girl would give a dramatic sigh. ”You know who.”
The blond would uncover herself, sitting up to stare at the memory sitting across from her, unaware the room remained empty as it had when she checked in. The buzz of local news hummed from the tv, but she paid it little mind, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed to get out. The reflection grew in the glass in her approach, painting clearly to the witch how red the rest of her eyes had become. ”If nobody hated me, then why is it always so quiet?” There was no answer, when Celeste looked back over her shoulder, there was nobody sitting on the foot of the bed. The realization hit her again like a newfound weight: she was still alone.