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✩°｡⋆☼⋆｡°✩ He is - a very handsome young man and he can see why his little brother has been so swayed by him but more importantly he's talented. He seems to know exactly what he's doing with that cello and if he is to be honest - listening to him play reminds him of listening to Sitriini play his violin. There's no doubt in his mind that he'll be able to teach Pilvi the proper material, the question is his personality.
But Sitriini likes him and Sitriini likes almost no one and it's always been rare from him to come crawling out of his hole to spend time with anyone even long before he retired. So the fact that he talks to and about this man at near constant is saying something.
Something large.
The music cuts out and there are wide blue eyes looking up at him with concern within them, so he smiles widely behind his mask and puts his hands on his hips after a quick greeting and a tip of his horns.
"Hauska Tavata, mitä kuuluu? You're Sielu right? I was shown your music this morning and I was very impressed. After hearing it in person I'm even more so impressed. I have a job offer for you if you're interested.
Last he'd checked, his page only had a thousand or so followers, and most of them weren't very active.
He supposes one of those followers must be important, somehow - he'll have to figure it out at some point and thank them. Profusely.
A job at the palace means his family won't have to worry anymore. His father won't have to take on so much extra work and maybe he can finally give his hands a break. His mother can stop wrangling the neighborhood kids for extra income. He and Sydän can stop worrying so damn much about finding odd jobs to make ends meet. They may be able to fix the weird parts of the floor. He could even get a new case for his cello and still have money left over to do whatever with.
They've rarely ever had money left over.
"I am Sielu, joo. Nice to meet you. I'm honored," he says, careful to mind his manners. "I'd love to hear it. What do you have?"
Herba has a "gift" for Sielu, and learns information about his past that infuriates her along the way.
MAJOR CWs for abuse, unwanted affection, grief, abandonment, drugging, and objectification.
The bottom of the airship he's being kept in is usually completely dark. He's kept strung up by vines, forced to kneel with his legs bent underneath him and his arms raised uncomfortably. The stab wound in his left shoulder never got any attention, so it screams with hot new pain every time he slumps forward. The arrangement keeps his upper body frozen upright regardless of how exhausted he is. Even letting his head fall makes his shoulder protest in agony.
He's learned quickly it's best not to defy his captor's demands, even if he doesn't always understand the words she speaks.
She controls everything about him now. His exposure to sunlight, what words he's allowed to speak, whether or not he is allowed to be unmasked, what he eats and when, how much he's allowed to drink, what substances he's fed or injected with, how much pain he's in... even his posture is completely up to her.
She owns him now. His every breath is dictated by her will, and she is a cruel ruler.
His only thought right now is of Sitriini. Part of his heart aches for him, and the other part knows that the fade has to be a better fate than this.
Still, he can't say he doesn't daydream about his bond kicking the door in and cutting the vines away, then setting the whole ship ablaze as righteous punishment.
He thinks about it even though he knows Sitriini is long gone. It's just not easy to accept. Technically, he never saw him fade like he saw Sydän, so there's still a tiny, stupid fraction of hope deep down in his heart.
Hope born out of desperate circumstances, but... something that refuses to die. It dims the longer he's here, and it flickers sometimes, but it meanders its way back to him on some occasions.
The door above him opens, harsh sunlight causing his face to twist until his eyes are closed against it.
That hope from moments ago dies as soon as he feels a warm hand tipping his chin up. The smell of floral tea follows his new owner's arrival.
That's always bad news, but he knows damn well to choke it down by now. The flowers don't cover up the syrupy concoction they're trying to conceal very well as it's forced into his mouth without a word.
Only once it's all gone does she speak.
"I have a gift for you, darling. Later today," she explains. "But you're not dressed for the occasion."
Half of it doesn't make sense. He doesn't ask what "occasion" means. It won't matter anyway.
The vines tug at him until he sits somehow straighter than before. His back is so exhausted he's scared it'll give out, but he's held fast in his restraints even as he's trembling against them.
The door closes, and she lights a dim lamp somewhere behind him that's a lot more tolerable. When he opens his eyes, he can see she's smiling at him in a way that makes him feel sick.
Whatever this is, he gets the idea he's not going to like it.
Her hands find their way to his shirt buttons as she hums like she's supposed to do this. Squirming doesn't help, instead eliciting a sharp gasp against the way his shoulder lights up all the way down his arm and up his neck as if the wound were just made a moment ago.
It seems now he doesn't get to retain any dignity, either, because all she does in response is laugh.
"Aw, you don't have to be shy," she teases. "I'm just giving you a clean shirt."
The rest of the buttons come undone, and then the vines release him.
His tired frame drops to the floor below as he tries to stifle a sob. He is allowed no time to collect himself before he's gathered into her arms with her hand on his chest. It takes everything he has not to scream at her or bite her or thrash against her hold.
Her hand does not belong there. It shouldn't be touching the orange stain underneath, the place where his bond's hand goes, the place where their commitment is etched forever into his skin.
"What's this?" she asks. "What does it mean?"
"No," he replies flatly.
It's a death sentence, he knows, but he can't bring himself to care that much.
"No?" she asks. Her hand comes off of his chest, instead moving up to his face with a grip so tight it causes his jaw to ache. "It means something," the woman hisses. "So does your earring, doesn't it?"
Whatever he answers is wrong now. He knows that tone. It means he's fucked up. There is no going back now.
Still, he refuses to give her what she wants, especially so easily, so he elects to stay silent.
"You're not stupid enough to think you're someone else's, are you?"
"He is better than you," he snarls back with tears in his eyes. "In every way."
"Are you sure, darling?"
"Joo."
Her face darkens with a dangerous rage. Two rules broken in one small word.
"I told you I HATE that language, you ungrateful BRAT!"
The vines twist around him again, dragging him back up so fast he feels the place spin around him. He's slammed down into the floor on his left side, drawn up again, then thrown down as hard as semi-sentient plants can manage. Hard enough to knock the breath out of his lungs. His arm sends a nausea-inducing wave of pain crashing over his head that leaves him sobbing while he tries to catch his breath.
It's supposed to teach him a lesson, he's sure, but what he's supposed to say is so disrespectful to his bond that he knows this won't be the last time he's handled so brutally.
She stays there next to him. When he finally is able to breathe again, he realizes everything is blurrier than it should be. His eyelids feel heavy and he's not sure if it's the pain or the exhaustion or the tea, but he'll never get the answer.
He hears the door open. Footsteps - someone else is here for the first time.
"What did you do to him?" a voice asks.
A familiar one. He can barely will his eyes open for long enough to see, but he knows that shade of white anywhere. He knows that voice anywhere, too.
Pilvi. He must be here to get him out.
And then they can run. They can survive together and -
"I thought I told you he's worthless. Just kill him and be done."
Worthless? Kill?
That's not right, is it? Those don't mean -
He wouldn't leave him here, would he?
"Pilvi?" he slurs. He can't lift his head. "Puffball?"
The door opens and shuts again, and then he's alone.
For the first time since his capture, he finally screams.
⋯✧・♪♫♪・✧⋯ He knows when Sielu is trying to lighten the mood when he hears him attempting to joke but his stomach growls again and he doesn't know to explain to him just how hungry he is. He also doesn't want to them he knows this is hell on all of them. They - have been in this damn town for a least a few months and Sielu going out by himself only ends in success a certain percent of the time and he's sick of his bond coming back injured because some jackass decided to start a fight again.
"We can - " He starts with a sigh and he sits and and starts to shift himself out of bed. " -go find something, so she can have some water and food when she wakes up. I'll be okei. It's Sydän we can't let go hungry. I hate to say this, but without her Mist I dunno if I'll - "
He doesn't want to finish the sentence because they both know what he means. Without his medication he's probably not going to make it in a world like this. Without food or water or a proper place to live. The people here were cruel and not many of them were willing to give them a chance or try to help them out.
He's still healing from the fall and he can feel his body creak inside of him when he moves. He knows there's part of him that must be broken now. Parts that feel like they've been knocked loose or grown too tight that don't move quite right, and no where close to as they should.
He hasn't been going into town often with Sielu because he insists that he stay back here with Sydän. He doesn't go into town often but if the two of them together go then even with no money they should simply be able to just take what they want. If no one is willing to help them, then they need to just help themselves.
He - he knows he's probably going to die here but at the very least he can give it a fighting chance.
"If we go into town, I'm sure we can find something. Maybe we can find someone who is willing to let us do some work for food. Darma and Kartal let us trade for food, so maybe someone else will too? We can find something quickly and then be back before she wakes up but you're not going out there alone again. You keep coming back hurt and I won't stand for it. I can work for it just as much as you can. I just can't keep laying in bed all day. Not anymore."
His expression sinks back to meet him at reality as he sighs.
"I wouldn't let Sydän go hungry anyway. Ever. Purple or not."
That isn't what siblings do. They don't let each other starve.
Even with the weird food and stale water in this place, it's better something than nothing at all. Even with the fact he often has to fight for what he brings back, he refuses to let either his bond or his twin go without for more than a day.
He hates the idea of bringing Sitriini, though. He doesn't want to run the risk of him passing out in the middle of town or Sydän waking up all alone - she gets scared too, even if her face is braver than his own - but it's gotten more desperate now.
It's hard to decide on any plan when it all feels like a losing game anyway.
But Sitriini has made up his mind, and he knows his bond is too stubborn to convince otherwise. Besides, arguing will just waste both their limited energy.
He nods instead. "Right... just... let me do the fighting, if anyone starts shit. Please. I don't want you to get hurt again."
Syksy and Liekki did enough back home. More than enough, even.
Too much, and he's not sure if his heart will ever recover from seeing his bond nearly fade away thrice. A fourth time would just be too much to bear.
His hands busy themselves with getting his shoes on and their bag ready to go. It doesn't quiet his mind like he intended, but action is still better than stillness if only to burn off nervous energy.
"There's one trader that comes around every other day who's kind of easy to snag bread from. That's where I've been getting it. We can try there and then head to the little stream to get water. We just have to be kind of quiet."
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⏾⋆.˚ Split up. They'll cover more ground. He doesn't have to see Sitriini to know this is bad. Kapteeni Tuulta doesn't panic and he doesn't yell. Basically ever unless someone is actively fading out and with that person being his godson, he can understand the panic. He's flying through the halls to stop at Leimahdus' office first where he only throws the door open and screams "Tuulta's office. NOW. Sitriini is FADING!!!"
The elder medic is out of his chair in an instant and flying down the hall to the place he was told to go without question. Next he's at Palo's classroom in a flash swinging the door open and he doesn't have time to worry about the wide jade eyes that turn to look at him with surprise.
"Tuulta's office NOW. Emergency!" He yells only to get a single sentence in return.
"What color?"
"ORANGE!"
He watches her eyes widen as she too yells "REVON! Take Pilvi to Valo and Aamunkoitto."
She's racing out of the room with a very obviously pre-packed bag in her hand as she rushes to Kapteeni Tuulta. Revon is shuffling in the room trying to remain a calm as possible as he lifts the child in question and gathers him up in his arms to carry him off to the company of his other binds.
It's only then that he starts to head back to find out how bad the situation actually is.
⋯✧・♪♫♪・✧⋯ He doesn't have the wherewithal to really understand what's happening just that Kummisetä is suddenly next to him and lifting him from the ground and he wonders if his wrist brace came with them. Everything is too fast and too muffled and just a mess. He hears 'listen to me' and 'don't fade', so whatever is going on with his right arm must be bad because he can't breath and the sensation in his arm is completely gone.
Where's Sielu?
Maybe he got sent on another mission and he hopes it's not mother because she's had enough stress and he really doesn't want her to see him like this. While he wants her, he also doesn't because she doesn't need to see him fade. Isä fading was enough and she doesn't really need to deal with that for her son.
He's down on a bed in a room with bright lights and he doesn't like any of it but there's no strength or energy to fight of complain. His tie and shirt come off of him at record speeds and something is being shoved into his left arm. Everything is so extremely bright. There's voices - Kummisetä is yelling.
There's another voice.
"What do you need?" It sounds. Followed by a different voice who sounds equally as flustered.
"Tell us what you need. We'll handle this Tuulta. We're not losing him."
'Losing him? Who's lost? Oh, me probably. I'm sorry Kummisetä but the sky is very loud.'
It's his final thought before his closes his eyes. At the very least he can do something about how bright these damn lights are.
After what feels like an eternity, Palo and Leimahdus scramble into the room asking what he needs.
"I need Palo to start running tests just in case this turns into an investigation later, Varjo to get on meds so we can get his heart under control, and Leimahdus to watch vitals and keep us updated. He needs to be stable before his left arm starts to - FUCK!" he shouts, interrupting his own sentence as any semblance of consciousness leaves Sitriini altogether.
He can't panic now, but -
But it's so difficult not to, and he wishes he could curse every fucking person who's ever failed him and led them all to this point, starting with himself.
This isn't right. His condition isn't supposed to be fatal. Misterican medicine is the best - it's supposed to be the best, they damn sure try - and he hasn't heard of anyone dying like this in their recent history.
Yet, much like Hiekka and Shokki before him, he seems doomed to a too-early demise. Tuli can't take another heartbreak.
Aurinko can't take another heartbreak.
He can't take another one, either.
He's praying under his breath to every god for more time. Just a few minutes to work. A few more seconds than he truly knows he has. Anything to give him enough time to fix it.
"Somebody keep Sielu out of here."
"No!" he protests as the door is shut in his face. "NO!"
He can't lose him. He thought he was willing to the day they separated, but deep down everyone knows otherwise. He knows they aren't together but nothing could ever change how his heart still sings for him.
His fists weakly collide with the door and he finds himself sliding down to his knees. He can't fix it.
He can't fix it and no one will let him in. He just wants to go back to when everything was fine.
Or even when it wasn't, just to apologize.
Just to make sure he understood it was a mistake and he didn't mean it and he still loves him as much as his lungs need air and as fiercely as the sun burns in the sky.
"Please let me in," he whispers, not even able to lift his gaze from the floor. The door doesn't budge and now he'll never get the chance.
⋯✧・♪♫♪・✧⋯ He tilts his head to the side ever so slightly at the question before he shakes it while responding with a slightly drawn out "Ei." He's shifting his weight a little to cross his arms over his chest awkwardly when he gives the other man a shy smile.
"I can't get out very far because well - people are weird and they don't listen when I ask them not to touch me. That's the real reason I asked you to come with me. Could you maybe - fake a date or something? Just to keep people away from me? Ahhhhhh - "
His voice drags out as he blushes.
" - I didn't mean to make it weird. It's okei if that makes you uncomfortable. I'm sorry. I really don't mind where we go. A diner sounds lovely. Anywhere that's quiet and people will leave us alone. Sometimes fans don't even let me eat in peace."
Easy. A grin spreads across his face in an instant.
His specialty, even.
"You've asked the man who's grown up in theater his whole life to act, of course it's not weird... komea poika. Plus, everyone at this diner knows me well, and they wouldn't be weird to you at all. I promise you can eat in peace. Let's go."
In the same moment, he's pulling his vest closed and buttoning it, smoothing it down as he beams and extends his hand in a dramatic flourish.
✩°｡⋆☼⋆｡°✩ There is a frown on his lips behind his mask as he listens and he hears that he's not used to invitations and he's come to realize that most of the people who come into the palace of what the church calls "lesser colors" are like this. Most of them are awkward and nervous and they have to go through this song and dance far more often then he cares for.
"So please, sit and we can discuss things for a while or just get to know each other. Tell me about your parents - Sielu's - I mean. They're your parents too. The pair of them have become such a beloved member of the palace. Tell me about you. What made you decide to be a writer? What else do you do?"
He sits as directed, twisting both hands together in his lap as he tries to understand this whole situation.
The King wants to know him and he is so warm and kind. Nothing like the idea he's been brought up with all his life.
Maybe that's why he's so loved by the whole Kingdom. He wonders what that would be like, briefly.
"I'm a writer because -"
And it's like he can't finish the sentence. Words hate to leave his mouth, and that's honestly part of the reason why he writes so much.
Writing gives him time to think and reword as much as he wants, anytime and anywhere. Talking is awkward and unrehearsed and sometimes too fast to keep up with.
Beyond that, the brain fog often takes his words away by surprise right as he's getting them out. What a terrible time to make an example of himself.
"Because - I - I uh- this," he finally gets out with an awkward laugh, gesturing vaguely to himself.
"I also work in the library. As a librarian. I used to be a clerk."
you would think that KH would make those muses high right now but for some unexplainable reason absolutely beyond me i cannot stop spinning sade of all people around in my brain microwave. anyway i am forcing you to look at my beloved rainy man now because he has no threads so i just need everyone to see him. (commissioned this from @symphonicsoul )
@symphonicsoul // Varjo
"Working yourself to the fade isn't going to help anyone, Kapteeni."
Beside Varjo's voice, the small room he considers his office has been mostly silent for hours. There's the occasional shuffle of papers or scratch of a pen or clink of his teacup against its saucer, but the ambience has become easy to tune out.
As much as he hates to admit it, Varjo is right.
He's fallen into a terrible habit lately. Overworking himself is the only thing he can do to drown out the grief of losing their squadron a few months ago, but it's not a permanent or sustainable solution.
What will his patients do if he fades too? There simply aren't many medical staff left enlisted. Certainly not enough to keep up with the demand or the war, especially given the fact most of them are new.
He sighs and leans back in his chair, looking over at his now-lukewarm cup of tea before his gaze lifts to meet Varjo's.
"You're right," he replies. "We should take a break. I just - have to stay out of my head somehow, you know?"
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⋯✧・♪♫♪・✧⋯ Sielu is running away from him as he lays there on the floor and chokes on his own tongue. He can hear screaming trailing down the hall but not the words being said because it's hard to hear anything when the sound of his own heart is drumming in his ears.
This is it.
He's going to die.
The sky is calling louder and louder and he doesn't know how to drown out the sound of it. For a deaf man, this really isn't the song he wants to hear right now but it's the loudest melody in the room.
Sielu is gone.
He knows he went running for help but that still means he's alone. He's alone. He's going to die alone. No one will know he's faded until only his Sielun Värit is left laying on the floor where he once was only moments ago. He can't feel his hand again. He can't feel the brace on his right hand. It's not there. Or did it come off? He doesn't know.
He feels like he's coming apart at the seams because he can't feel his arm at all.
Everything is getting dark and the sky is singing so loudly.
⏾⋆.˚ It's hard to miss the sound of his name. His name being screamed at the top of the person in question's lungs. His back goes rigid as he listens and it's Sielu. Sielu doesn't yell and he hasn't even said much in ... well ... years.
"Kapteeni." He says as he abandons his post and starts to run back inside. "Sielu is screaming."
There is no time to waste and something is telling him that this is about to be one of the worst days of his life. Sielu has barely interacted with anyone for the last two years so to hear him screaming now only has him all the more worried.
He meets him in the halls and all he finds is a scared frantic mess of man.
The vice around his lungs squeezes so tight he feels they may burst as he doubles over in front of Varjo a complete mess of himself.
Now isn't the time to panic, but he doesn't fucking know how to stop. He chokes out a pathetic sob as he tries to pull in more air to explain, but all he can manage is, "Sinfonia."
He reaches forward to grab Varjo's hand, to lead him to the clearly dying man on the floor, and he can't seem to move fast enough. He doesn't feel like he can. He doesn't feel like he'll be able to help or keep Sinfonia alive, but he very well can't abandon him either.
Just because it feels hopeless doesn't mean it has to be, right? And maybe if he's lucky, Lord Haya will show up again.
If he didn't drive him away forever, anyway. He doesn't really know what a god of music will be able to fix, but surely he's more capable of helping than a regular Misterican.
Varjo takes off like a round fired from a gun, and Tuulta follows after once he picks his bag up off the ground. He's not sure why Sielu would be screaming, considering how silent the musician has become as of late, but it can't be good.
And with the way he only gets out Sitriini's name, it isn't. A million possibilities zip through his mind as his feet lift off the ground and he flies down the hall.
None of them, not a single one, prepares him for the actual sight of his godchild sprawled lifelessly on the palace floor, right arm unraveling before his eyes.
Arms are almost always the first to go. Arms or legs, and both are... difficult to work with. Fading limbs to this extent mean that the person is just as likely to be possible to bring back as they are to fade away forever, and the only real determinant is whether the Gods choose to assist him or not.
"Fuck - Varjo!" he barks. "Get me Palo and Leimahdus, meet in my office. RUN. I need more hands NOW."
He gathers the too-limp body into his arms, wasting no further precious seconds flying as fast as he can make himself go towards his office. All he can do is pray he's making the right call.
It gives him more options, more room, and overall better care if he's not in the floor.
"Listen to me Sitriini. Do not fucking fade on me," he pleads as he lays him on the sole bed and puts the railing down. "Not yet. Don't you dare."
Well-practiced hands work faster than his mind consciously registers as he pulls off the shirt that's in his way, tossing it to the floor. Monitors and oxygen come next - he needs someone to be able to read vitals when they get there so his focus isn't so split up - and of course it's his heart again that's the problem.
It's difficult to get access to a vein in his left arm, but on the second attempt he manages it.
"Hurry the hell UP!" he yells towards the hallway. "I NEED HELP!"
⋯✧・♪♫♪・✧⋯ He wants him to take it back - and he doesn't know if it's the thing he said about Pilvi that he can't remember or the entire album itself. He doesn't know because he can't remember what that awful thing was even if he's been told multiple times by his family.
"Sielu I - "
He doesn't want to lie to him even though that's all he ever does. About Syksy. About Liekki. About his ribs. About his face. About being sick all the time - he lies to him about everything even if the only time he ever told the truth was when he said he loved him.
That was something he could never fake and he never wanted to.
He's crying. He's sobbing and he wants to - to get up. To hug him. To comfort him. To ease his worries and his tears. He doesn't want to fight with him he says and he doesn't want to fight either.
" - I can't lie to you." He starts with a sigh as he stands. " - I can't remember what I said. Not - because it didn't matter but - because I can't remember anything. I know why we started fighting because I've been told. But the actual memory of it - is gone. My last memory picks up when we went to the noodle cafe and then it's blank for a very long time."
He's sighing as he stands, wincing a little in pain for a moment as his heart starts drumming in his chest. So he just puts his hand over his heart for a moment to try to focus himself through the pain.
"I - love Pilvi very dearly and I am - ashamed I said something so awful. There's no - exc-cuse." He's clearing his throat and clutching his chest a little harder.
"You have every right not to forgive me. I - I'm - I'm - s- sor - "
He's gasping as he doubles over. A step forward with arms raised to offer a hug, nearly there to wrap his arms around the weeping man when he jerks back and collapses to the ground.
He's gasping for air. His chest is screaming. He feels like he's on fire. He can only pull at his tie as he starts to panic.
There's no time for either of them to process anything. He still doesn't understand why Sinfonia said what he did, but apparently neither does he.
No one will be getting any answers, though. He watches in horrified slow-motion as the man clutches his chest and tries to undo his tie while he collapses to the ground. His pulse sounds all wrong and he doesn't sound like he's breathing correctly - or at all, for that matter.
The universe is a cruel place with a sick, unrelenting sense of humor.
His legs act before his brain catches up, and he finds himself sprinting down the hall towards the palace's entrance.
Clearly Liekki has not been handling Sinfonia's health well, so of course he's bolting for Varjo. A combat medic is probably better in an emergency anyway.
"VARJO! HELP!" he screams. It doesn't feel loud enough. He doesn't feel fast enough.
Nothing feels like enough and it won't until he knows for a fact Sinfonia is alive and will stay that way.
⋯✧・♪♫♪・✧⋯ He's crying - even if he hangs his head to hide his tears. He knows the sound of it. He knows the sound of the ocean's waves in distress. He knows the sound of pain in his voice. He knows the sounds of his body, he's spent enough time in his presence and in his nest and just laying next to him in the bath. He knows the sound of him. When something is right and when everything is wrong - and right now everything is wrong.
His own heart sinks at the questions. He - thinks there's someone else. He - thinks he gave his name away. He - thinks he could replace him so easily, and if this is the case then just simply telling him he didn't wouldn't be enough. He'd never believe him. Sielu's anxiety is a fickle beast and when she sinks her fangs into him there is little most people can do to pull them out.
The voice he loves is full of tears and anger and hurt and resentment and betrayal. He can't just explain to him that the album was for him.
So he looks back to his desk where the papers he was grading lay and he contemplates working while he speaks but somehow he thinks that would be even more rude. The message he was trying to send got all jumbled and messed up in the waters because anxiety got in the way.
But there is something that - changed in recent days. He's hit a sense of being at peace with himself and if he - it something happens it happens. Maybe it's his failing health. Maybe it's the alcohol clouding his vision. Maybe he's hit that sense of mania when he just doesn't give a damn what happens to himself any more. He doesn't know.
It's like the heavens themselves whispering that he can rest soon, so he may as well get it all out there and clear the air. The way his chest tightens and his heart feels like it squeezes isn't really helping anything but he will push through as he always does.
It's been feeling tense and tight since this morning.
His hands raise and fold into themselves on his desk as he sighs, eyes locked on the paperwork spread out before him with a somberness reflecting in them as he sighs.
"I knew you'd be in here about this eventually but I didn't think it would be like this. I'll tell you. I named the album Rakkauslaulu because that name belongs to the man who has my heart. He's had it for well over a decade now and I just needed him to know how I felt. He's my best friend and the love of my life. I've never felt the way I do about anyone else.
Even through everything. Even through the fighting and the yelling and the miscommunication, I still feel the same. He makes me laugh and smile and feel warm. He's the best cook I've ever met and he's calm and weird and a little goofy. He has the most beautiful green horns, and eyes like the ocean. I drown in them every time I look into them. He's a short little power house but you'd never know it and he will tell you proudly that he can bench Taivas.
So even if his self esteem is in the garbage, and he has horrible anxiety and his depression is wretched some days or weeks or sometimes months. I love him just the same. I've only ever called one man by the name and I only ever will. He's the only man I would come out of retirement for. The only man I'd write love songs for because he is my love song."
He's shifting with his phone for a moment until he unlocks it and holds it out to him flat in his palm so the wallpaper is showing - something that couldn't have been changed that quickly. A selfie that he took with Sielu years ago dressed in their silly pajamas making goofy faces at the screen. The same wallpaper that's been on his phone for years.
"He's my little shark. He's you."
There is a heavy sigh as his shoulders drop.
"There is no one else Sielu. Never has been. Never will be. It's you. It always will be even if you don't feel the same. It's okei. I don't expect you to take me back, but I couldn't keep choking on it. I still love you. "
Each word chips away at an already-broken heart. He can barely keep the pieces in his hands anyway, their edges jagged and painful to hold, but now they're being pulverized into sharp dust as he remembers for the millionth time that day that he's supposed to be angry.
He's supposed to hate this man because he's not supposed to tolerate someone saying such awful things about Pilvi. He's supposed to hate this man to keep him from getting so close he gets hurt by a flurry of fists again, but his heart has always been much louder than foolish things like logic.
And his heart doesn't hate him. His heart, even for as shattered as it is, still yearns for everything they had. His heart, even for as much as he wishes it'd die, cannot be quelled or suppressed.
There was never any hatred. There was only the most dangerous emotion of them all: love.
Love that gives way to trust. Trust that gives way to betrayal and despair.
His mind screams at him to turn and walk away, reminding him of his vow to not give anyone such a fragile piece of himself again, but all he can make himself do in reality is stand right where he is and sob.
Crying is one of the only things he's good at.
"Then take it back," he squeaks, and he's not sure if he means the album or the words that started this fight to begin with.
"Just take it back and -"
He shouldn't be saying this. He knows. He knows, and yet still, his heart speaks for him and gives him away.
"and- I- I would rather talk about it than make it the entire kingdom's business. I just- don't want to hurt you and I don't- I don't know. I don't want to fight. I don't know what I want but I can't take it anymore."
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it's so much fun writing older caretaker muses. like, yes, let my muse take care of yours. bc they thrive on it. let them make your muse feel safe and cared for. let them make yours food. let them give yours someplace to rest. let them protect yours. let them give your muse a soft place to land and someone in their corner. i just love writing older caretaker muses...
You have questions about my muse's lore? Their friends, enemies, their dreams and fears? Or you're wondering about my portrayal of them? Shoot ahead, I love yapping about my muse and their world!
Just some samples to toss in;
Can you give us a summary of your muse's lore?
How different is your portrayal from canon?
What kind of AU or crossover would you like to write?
Do you have any plot ideas you would like to try?
Post a random headcanon of them that you have?
OC samples;
Can you tell us more about your OC's home?
Who are your OC's enemies and what are they like?
Do you have canon verses for your OC?
If they're a Fandom OC, what is their relation to the cast is like?
