CALYPSO DELACROIX ☀ DISTRICT NINE

{ playlist }

stars // grace potter & the nocturnals // hannah reaction
burning house // cam // sunfall v
9 crimes // damien rice // phoebe confrontation
you are the moon // the hush sound // calbraxas meeting
burning house // cam // that one thread in progress lol
hey brother // [cover] jada + kyson facer // delacroix drama
sippy cup // melanie martinez // unwritten thread shh

--

THE MUTE // radical face
AFRAID OF THE DARK // phildel
FUEL TO FIRE // agnes obel
SWITCHBLADE // phildel
HUMAN // civil twilight
I WISH I COULD TELL YOU // chloe howl
THE GLASS GHOST // phildel
BLUE BLOOD // laurel
FIRE BREATHER // laurel
BROTHERS ON A HOTEL BED // death cab for cutie
POLARIZE // twenty one pilots
CAR RADIO // twenty one pilots
ADDICT WITH A PEN // twenty one pilots
VALLEY OF THE DOLLS // marina and the diamonds
OCEANDUST // hands like houses
NEW ROMANTICS // hands like houses
RUNNING UP THAT HILL // placebo
FIRST DAY OF MY LIFE // bright eyes
A CALL TO ARMS // laura jansen
SONS AND DAUGHTERS // allman brown & liz lawrence
IN MY ARMS // plumb
INNOCENT // taylor swift
BONES // ms mr
9 CRIMES // damien rice
STAND IN THE RAIN // superchick
FIRE // pvris
THE BEAST // austra
EYELIDS // pvris
HURTS LIKE HELL // fleurie
MICHIGAN // the milk carton kids
FIRE IN MY BONES // fleurie

{ table: zoë }

AM I FREE NOW, AM I AT PEACE?
IS THAT THE GROUND BELOW ME, OR YOUR FEET?

Stained glass windows play a game of hide-and-seek with the truth.
But they cannot shroud themselves with shadows and tuck themselves away into asylum from the eyes of Calypso Delacroix; she is no longer hindered blind from the thick veils of mist that ooze from their mouths.

She remembers the blood. She could never tear away the marks it etched on the backs of her eyes, she could never erode away the stains it left on her skin - like scars.

The shadow of a church, looming like a castle to a kingdom of tyranny and lunacy, has never left her side. But she wears the darkness like a midnight gown, a token of her shattered past.
The claws of shame cannot reach her throat.

The Church of Castiel -
it was a kingdom where she was not ruler. She was not a princess, she was not a knight, she was not even a peasant, she was
nothing.

She was nothing, like the gathering dust of a demolished porcelain vase.

She has sworn to the skies, she has screamed out at their thundering, black glories that no god rests upon his throne beyond them, until she she believed it herself and it was no longer a lie searing upon her tongue.

She has sworn to the altar at the church, she has spat at its alabaster marble, that her hands would never lie upon its cursed surface again to be "blessed", they called it, with the blood they had claimed was a promise from the heavens.

She was fifteen and twig-legged, but the strength of a panther coursed through her veins the moment her name echoed throughout the church like a scream in an empty room. They promised her she had been chosen by the hand of God for the Cleansing, but it was black black lies she saw snarling in their eyes.

She is no chosen one.

Her blood could not cleanse the bitter, black evil that stains the church and the souls trapped within - nothing could ever scrub away their sins, their human sacrifices to appease their god and their tyrannical ways to keep everyone so perfectly in their clutches.
(What kind of god commends this, the rows of childrens' graves in the yard of the church?)

And the boy.
The priest's son.

He promised he could save her from the knives turned towards her throat, he said he could shield her from the encroaching Day of Sacrifice.
She never knew the darkness that could flourish within a seventeen-year-old boy until -

["I can help you, Calypso."

"Nothing can help me. There's no running. It's because of my age - my 'purity'. That's why they chose me for the Cleansing."

"It's not your age - though all sacrifices are fifteen and under. It's because you're so innocent; you've never seen or experienced anything but purity. That is why they chose you and not anyone else. But if your purity was taken away -"

"You can't just take it away."

"By their definition, you can."

(And she understood.)

"No."

"It can save you, Calypso."

"Fuck you! I would rather die!

Get the hell away from me before -"]

He did not heed her warning; the siren before the hurricane seemed to have eluded him.
They have never faded, the lines of scarlet sliced across her palms from the shards of stained glass burrowed into her hands, spilled to the ground from the the window he had punched through in the struggle. Between her curled fingers they were no longer glass but daggers.

It was a mindless battle of no crossed swords or cries of war, only a manic movements of a long, narrow glass knife into the flesh of the boy who dared cross her. In her flurry of sheer terror, she released a downpour of blood onto once pristine carpets.
She did not cease until the priest's son was enveloped in the coldness of the winter air.

She was sorry.
Sorry for herself and the black stain that began to expand upon her soul she had once thought to be the color of snow, sorry for the horror she had unraveled before her eyes.
But no remorse bloomed within her heart for the corpse broken on the floor and its horrific pallor. She been taught in Sunday school not to pity demons, to destroy them if she so much as looked upon one, but she did not know until the moment she killed that demons did not crawl from a darkly blazing hell beneath the earth that demons

lie clandestine behind human skin.

In the sea of blood she sat upon, a rain of tears drying on her cheeks, she did not drown. It was gasoline against a burning match -
and a tower of flames leaped skywards on her flesh.

. . .

She rose, bathed in ash at the bloody dawn.
And they ran.

One sunfall and one sunrise after the river had run red from her sin battle, and they were gone - Calypso, her mother, and little sister, Skully.
And the father?

He held his ground, too true and tethered to the twisted Castiel ways to abandon the church cult.

Safe and sound in a little cottage on the outskirts of District Nine, on opposite sides from the Church of Castiel, tranquility hung over their lives like an afternoon sun -
but then money began to run dry to a desert and darkness began to descend.

Money was scarce with no church to catch their free fall on and no father to bring in anything extra, and the day she laid eyes upon Skully's narrowing frame from lack of food was the day Fate declared her destiny:
the mafia.

{ table: zoë }

AM I FREE NOW, AM I AT PEACE?
IS THAT THE GROUND BELOW ME, OR YOUR FEET?

The Code of the Wolf Pack:

I. The Code shall not be broken.
II. Sisters over blood.
III. Silence will be forever held.
IV. Betrayal is the path to misery.
V. To steal from your sisters is to commit treason against them.
VI. Black market sales as an independent business is forbidden.
VII. Males cannot be invited into the ranks of the Wolf Pack.
VIII. Kill only if you must.

{ table: zoë }

. . .