the ewe and the ram

celine’s sign off 🎼

”i loved you like i loved god, and yet you betray me like the man you truly are”

this blog is run by kuni @kunfire , celíne and elton are everette’s parents @everettes-requiem . ask them anything

will my love be enough to remedy you?

“should you approach any other lady this way, i am quite certain she would run from you, not with you” celíne is simply pulling your strings, soft and languid. not a jab, just a small tease, something you would barely be able to feel. celíne is always like that, you’ve noticed. careful— featherlight, fearful.

a laugh slips past her lips, and it feels just like a soft breeze that passes by you, missed the moment it is forgotten on your skin. the sound is melodic, but even then, there is a hollowness that resonates from her chest where the instrumental should have begun to play. she smiles, it is warmth, a kind of warmth she can give but can never stomach in order to receive. for a moment, it is almost like it’s just the two of you. “but, what would i know? im not so good with romance, dear. perhaps you would be able to sweep someone off their feet with that statement. anything is possible, isn’t it?”

anything is possible. the phrase lingers in her mind, escapes her tongue before she can swallow it down and stay quiet as she usually does— as she has learned to do. the pit in her stomach grows more achingly unbearable. she has lied, lied both to herself and to you. if anything were possible, then she would be able to run. to aimlessly go about without direction, but to at least know the choice to feel the burning in her feet would be hers. to take your hand, go as far away as possible in attempts to find herself again.

but, she knows her place. you watch as celíne closes her eyes and lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, taking in more air afterwards. the thought crumbles away painfully as she does so, but she can say nothing. she lets it slip from her fingers. to dwell on a dream is to find disappointment in the reality. her reality. 

when she opens her eyes to look at you again, her expression seems to be held up by a thread. her voice strains, the chords tighten uncomfortably, though she tries to manage through a lyrical facade. “ah, but unfortunately i am where i’m meant to be. as disappointing as that may be. this is not a fairytale, my darling, and i am not a princess who needs saving. i do not need to be saved, i haven’t for a very long time” i deserve to be here, she thinks.

“to run is to regret. i have many regrets— enough already. enough guilt and shame within my heart. if i run, i will break within the first steps into the fresh air of freedom”

perhaps that’s why her eyes drift down to the pretty little things adorning her, materialistic life, but life nontheless to someone who has lost it. the necklace she wore and the ring that grew unbearably heavy as the years went on. the color that was once on her face grew dull, cosmetic items doing little to hide the dreary of her smile— a light, diminished. celíne closes her eyes, just a moment to get away from it all, a whisper in the dark.

celíne is about to thank you for the compliment, an act of gratitude, not of acceptance— she does not believe your words. but, she ends up stilling at the change in tone. a question out of many she has received, but none of which have been asked like this. for a moment, she seems taken aback, searching anywhere and everywhere to see if this was all a little joke to play with her nerves. the longer she stares, the more she realizes that you are real. that you are different. perhaps you have a different perception of elton. if it's not too much for her to ask of god, perhaps you even see the man like celíne does. an abhorrent stranger.

“i suppose i saw in him what everyone does" "people can get away with many a things if they're a looker. if their eyes are all glistening and their smile is award winning. but, he isn't just that. he's awfully charming too, almost captivating, alluring most definitely. should he talk to you, he would always make quick work of conversation with the way he strings his words together. as smooth as a shot of vodka, though I believe people would drink him up even if he was the strongest of poisons." she swallows, as she did with the vodka, and just as she did with the poison of the man she once loved. she has drank every last drop, and just because you are numb, doesn't mean you are unaffected. "that's why when we met, when he looked at me in a crowd of prettier picks of the flock. I asked myself what you ask me now. what did he see in me? but. no one really does know anyone or anything anymore, do they? i’ve seen him, his eyes when they are unkind. everytime he smiles I see nothing but purity now. pure, lucid, manipulation"

you expect bitterness to intertwine into the threads of her display. you almost wish for it, you hope for the resentment she should approach with towards the man that deserved it. however, there is only disappointment and sorrow, a continuity of her tragic self. you are unsure whether the disappointment is even directed towards him, or if it festers in her system to stay.

"run into him and step foot onto his path, and that's exactly where you'll always be whether you know it or not. you are his hunt of the day, no matter who you are, you'll always be the prey in his presence. how I wish he didn't take notice to my tracks. he held the shotgun and I was the animal who looked right down the barrel, docilely mistaking his stillness as a gentle kiss of mercy. oh, how wrong I was" she blinks, a clarity that hurts more than a bullet to the head ever would. she has shared too much, what would people think of her if they heard her speak about her own husband like this? what should she think of herself after knowing she spoke so badly about him? she ought to wash her mouth out with soap— or perhaps holy water. she must do it soon, for seeking the forgiveness from the Lord is much easier than scavenging it from Elton. she clasps her hands together, her eyes gazing upwards.

"a fan? my biggest fan at that. oh you flatter me so, i'm unsure of what i did to deserve a fan so darling such as yourself. nothing of value, at least none i can think of" she laughs a little, light and airy. her eyes are dark, but they hold kindness in them as she looks at you. but, at the ends of her laughter, it falters and as her face rests, the feeling of melancholy seems to wash over her features like the waves. undeserving or deserving, it does not matter. her own value slips from her fingers through the cracks no matter how tightly bound they are. her self deprecation is hidden beneath a mirage of gentle peace.

"though, while i don't want to discourage you, you may have some competition. i don't think my son would be too keen on someone else claiming to be his maman's biggest fan. it’s not my ideal to put it in such terms, since i’d love for you two to get along. i think it would be good for him. but, you know how children can be sometimes” a heaviness in her heart causes her to sigh shakily

“i hope he’s alright. i miss him dearly. elton says not to worry, i fear that’s because he does not care—“ she is cut off by the sound of a door closing, a voice calls out to her. it belongs to a male, smooth and alluring if one didn’t hear the undertones of displeasure. her fingers grasp at her necklace

“im sorry, i have to go. please, do stay safe.”