Corvus Starcrest // D3 // Fin
Aug 2, 2019 18:28:09 GMT -5
Post by Arrows on Aug 2, 2019 18:28:09 GMT -5
Corvus Starcrest
17
17
He had promised to take him to see the fireworks, just once to watch their illegal color illuminate the abandoned factories. He would have loved it, found formulas for the trajectories of the launches and pieced together the puzzle of their patterns. Ever since he was ten, all he would pester Corvus about was a small show of pyrotechnics that Corvus had seen countless times before. Watched with an arm wrapped around a lover as reds rippled into roses against the celestial canvas of space. Cheered with liquor lining his blood as the fierce finale emerged overhead. Ran from walls of white searching for the source of the captivating colors. He did all this beneath the fireworks' dance, and never once did he bring Orion to the illumination of his intrigue.
He's always been bad about keeping promises. Often times the words of his own commitment slip through the cracks of his fingers and into the mists of forgetfulness. Corvus lives in constant reminder of the crown of distrust his failures to uphold his word have placed upon his head. Frequent nights with the weight of his Father's frustration. Scores of scoldings from his siblings. Every instant of his existence seems to conclude in a sigh or a stare of shame. However, bearing the burden of his handmade misery used to manageable.
Then Orion died, far from the light his brother had promised to bring into his life.
The house seems sworn into silence now. It's only area of life stemming from the continuously expanding table of flowers. Gifts of grief from false faces and unknown names. Not even Corvus or Leo, the twins of absolute energy and anarchy, can find a light in the shadow of Orion. Corvus finds it all suffocating, the stench of lilies and the emptiness of his brother's room. So he avoids it, breaks himself away from the hurt just long enough to take a breath of air. Tries to turn away from the fact that his little brother will never walk through the door again. He hides in his work.
In the shop, Corvus swoons to the dance of ink and skin. Constant creation exists at the edge of his finger tips, an artistic expression he encountered first through a friend of Leo's. The brothers were already bonded by blood and physical features, but they wanted to take it further. They wanted to bond themselves beyond genetics, to tether themselves together as best friends. Thus the constellation Leo found its place on Corvus' right shoulder and the constellation Corvus found home on Leo's left. But Corvus wasn't a one and done customer, no, from the moment he entered the shop it became his passion.
Now even in the aftermath of Orion's death, Corvus has a safe space. A magical place where he can spin spider webs and craft incredible wings. A young sketcher turned protegee tattoo artist. Alas, Corvus' conviction to the art of ink is greater than a singular reason. Tattoos open up entrances to the lives of others. Through their stories he can share in their past and play a role in either capturing or hiding it. A near perfect place for an energetic extrovert. A place that has even done more than just letting him hide from the truth to soon be buried beside his Mother adorned in orchids.
Where once Corvus only had one picture upon his skin, he has added another. In the gaze of a mirror, beneath the strands of his dirty blonde hair and below the stare of his hazel eyes, he is forced to face the truth. A small simple shape rests over the home of his heart, Orion's belt. It's his road to acceptance. To understanding that one day he will laugh again with all the energy of his soul and run in a wake of destruction beside Leo. To knowing that each day it will get a little bit easier, but one thing will never change.
Orion was his brother, and a piece of his heart will always belong to him.
In the few days since Orion's death, Corvus can't tell if he's changed completely. He spends hours reading through Orion's old journals. It's incredible how smart he was, the connections his brain made that Corvus' never will. In the past, Corvus wouldn't touch technology with a ten foot pole. Now he finds himself fiddling with bolts and gears trying to work on the plans Orion never got to unveil. It surprises the seventeen year old how soft he is now, how he will do anything just for a flicker of Orion's presence. However, just as before, he thirsts for spouts of laughter and lives in the pranks he pulls. Still a trickster, even without one of his favorite fans. He supposes he's something in between, entering a life with a new normal.
He's always been bad about keeping promises. Often times the words of his own commitment slip through the cracks of his fingers and into the mists of forgetfulness. Corvus lives in constant reminder of the crown of distrust his failures to uphold his word have placed upon his head. Frequent nights with the weight of his Father's frustration. Scores of scoldings from his siblings. Every instant of his existence seems to conclude in a sigh or a stare of shame. However, bearing the burden of his handmade misery used to manageable.
Then Orion died, far from the light his brother had promised to bring into his life.
The house seems sworn into silence now. It's only area of life stemming from the continuously expanding table of flowers. Gifts of grief from false faces and unknown names. Not even Corvus or Leo, the twins of absolute energy and anarchy, can find a light in the shadow of Orion. Corvus finds it all suffocating, the stench of lilies and the emptiness of his brother's room. So he avoids it, breaks himself away from the hurt just long enough to take a breath of air. Tries to turn away from the fact that his little brother will never walk through the door again. He hides in his work.
In the shop, Corvus swoons to the dance of ink and skin. Constant creation exists at the edge of his finger tips, an artistic expression he encountered first through a friend of Leo's. The brothers were already bonded by blood and physical features, but they wanted to take it further. They wanted to bond themselves beyond genetics, to tether themselves together as best friends. Thus the constellation Leo found its place on Corvus' right shoulder and the constellation Corvus found home on Leo's left. But Corvus wasn't a one and done customer, no, from the moment he entered the shop it became his passion.
Now even in the aftermath of Orion's death, Corvus has a safe space. A magical place where he can spin spider webs and craft incredible wings. A young sketcher turned protegee tattoo artist. Alas, Corvus' conviction to the art of ink is greater than a singular reason. Tattoos open up entrances to the lives of others. Through their stories he can share in their past and play a role in either capturing or hiding it. A near perfect place for an energetic extrovert. A place that has even done more than just letting him hide from the truth to soon be buried beside his Mother adorned in orchids.
Where once Corvus only had one picture upon his skin, he has added another. In the gaze of a mirror, beneath the strands of his dirty blonde hair and below the stare of his hazel eyes, he is forced to face the truth. A small simple shape rests over the home of his heart, Orion's belt. It's his road to acceptance. To understanding that one day he will laugh again with all the energy of his soul and run in a wake of destruction beside Leo. To knowing that each day it will get a little bit easier, but one thing will never change.
Orion was his brother, and a piece of his heart will always belong to him.
In the few days since Orion's death, Corvus can't tell if he's changed completely. He spends hours reading through Orion's old journals. It's incredible how smart he was, the connections his brain made that Corvus' never will. In the past, Corvus wouldn't touch technology with a ten foot pole. Now he finds himself fiddling with bolts and gears trying to work on the plans Orion never got to unveil. It surprises the seventeen year old how soft he is now, how he will do anything just for a flicker of Orion's presence. However, just as before, he thirsts for spouts of laughter and lives in the pranks he pulls. Still a trickster, even without one of his favorite fans. He supposes he's something in between, entering a life with a new normal.
