cry if you want to :: birthday bash [CF]
Jul 1, 2021 23:45:50 GMT -5
Post by pogue on Jul 1, 2021 23:45:50 GMT -5
He's wearing a crown of thorns stained red by the time their fight ends, his axed lodging itself into the back of the mutt's head with a satisfying crunch. Green blood had splattered against his skin as he'd pulled the axe loose with a smirk, resting the weapon on his shoulder as the mutt crumbled beneath him. Julian had wiped the mixture of red and green blood from his face with a disgusted scowl as they'd made their way from the now wrecked cabin and Love had smiled in return, swiping his forearm against his cheeks and leaving a reminder of the mutts he'd brought his weapon down into on his face as a mask.
Now he sits cross legged in the fields between the cabins, plucking at the daisies that bend and curl underneath his weight and running them through his fingertips. He swears it's an unwanted habit that he's picked up from Chad himself, feeling the soft touch of the petals as he runs the flower against his palm. "You gotta work on your aim." He throws the jab at Julian as they sit, hands of the latter wrapping bandages around the shallow wounds that litter his head just like he'd done for him minutes prior. Love drops the flower and begins to turn back towards his plaything, ready to plant false kiss on bloody cheek.
Instead, he's interrupted by the soft beeping of a falling sponsor gift, red parachute a bloody mark against the blue sky above them. Love rises along with the rest of his allies as the gift comes to a slow halt on the ground, blanketed in blood red fabric.
"It's.. cupcakes? Four of them."
Love's blood turns to ice as he stares at the sponsor gift, confident demeanor instantly shattering and falling to the dust and the dirt beneath him as he stops.
Time in the arena has a way of abandoning you, cradling you in its arms until you forget who and what and where you are completely. He hadn't even realized what day it was amongst the blood and the blue skies, that he was a year older and had next to nothing to show for it yet.
This is no gift. It's a reminder.
"Oh, yeah." He finally says to quell the confusion, quiet at first as his face runs pale for a moment too long. As soon as the words slip from his lips it's like he's realized he's said them out loud, wiping the distant stare on his face with a single blink and replacing it with eyes drowned in faux gratitude. "It's my birthday today." He says, cheeks running a slight red. "Kind of forgot, I guess."
There's a clenched jaw behind the smile he flashes, blood running cold until it finally turns to ice underneath his flesh. It pierces his lungs and drapes itself over his heart, until each breath becomes shallow and drawn out, as if there's nails dragging against the same organs that keep him afloat. Waverly passes out the package of cupcakes in reckless innocence, and it's only when it finally gets to him that he can fully see the dagger that pierces into his pride and drags his ego to the dirt strand by painful strand.
One's birthday isn't a cause for celebration in a Bellisario household.
It means a test and it means proving your worth and it means morphing your body from flesh to diamond or suffering the consequences. The breath that catches in his throat collapses into itself and he feels the nine markings of his own legacy singe his skin underneath the uniform draped across his chest. When he finally pulls the cupcake from its packaging his hands are shaking softly in the reminder of his own mortality, blue eyes staring down the red diamond accessory that is stabbed down into the frosting. No spit left to swallow and no ego left to fall back into-
It means he's failing.
Two mutts down and no blood spilled underneath his name, convinced not to snap Chad Chapman's neck just a day prior and Love Bellisario isn't living up to the very expectations that had been carved into his flesh since childhood. He falls into his own failure as he stands there, eyes glazed over until the soft hymns of a drone approaching them greets his ears. He snaps back into his own facade, choking down the stumbling breaths that threaten to spill loudly from his throat.
"Feel free to dig in. Cheers." He finally states softly, his eyes moving up from the baked good laced into his fingertips and towards his allies. He carves a smirk onto his face, eyes glinting with hollow anticipation as he raises the cupcake like a drink at a toast, mirroring the very movements his Father would make at every ball and gala the Bellisario family had ever thrown. He swears he can feel the red diamond centerpiece singe and sear his flesh as he pulls it from the cupcake, twirling it in his fingers for a second before dropping it into his pocket.
The pieces of diamond carved into his chest burn as he bites into it, all poisoned smoke and shattered mirrors.
Now he sits cross legged in the fields between the cabins, plucking at the daisies that bend and curl underneath his weight and running them through his fingertips. He swears it's an unwanted habit that he's picked up from Chad himself, feeling the soft touch of the petals as he runs the flower against his palm. "You gotta work on your aim." He throws the jab at Julian as they sit, hands of the latter wrapping bandages around the shallow wounds that litter his head just like he'd done for him minutes prior. Love drops the flower and begins to turn back towards his plaything, ready to plant false kiss on bloody cheek.
Instead, he's interrupted by the soft beeping of a falling sponsor gift, red parachute a bloody mark against the blue sky above them. Love rises along with the rest of his allies as the gift comes to a slow halt on the ground, blanketed in blood red fabric.
"It's.. cupcakes? Four of them."
Love's blood turns to ice as he stares at the sponsor gift, confident demeanor instantly shattering and falling to the dust and the dirt beneath him as he stops.
Time in the arena has a way of abandoning you, cradling you in its arms until you forget who and what and where you are completely. He hadn't even realized what day it was amongst the blood and the blue skies, that he was a year older and had next to nothing to show for it yet.
This is no gift. It's a reminder.
"Oh, yeah." He finally says to quell the confusion, quiet at first as his face runs pale for a moment too long. As soon as the words slip from his lips it's like he's realized he's said them out loud, wiping the distant stare on his face with a single blink and replacing it with eyes drowned in faux gratitude. "It's my birthday today." He says, cheeks running a slight red. "Kind of forgot, I guess."
There's a clenched jaw behind the smile he flashes, blood running cold until it finally turns to ice underneath his flesh. It pierces his lungs and drapes itself over his heart, until each breath becomes shallow and drawn out, as if there's nails dragging against the same organs that keep him afloat. Waverly passes out the package of cupcakes in reckless innocence, and it's only when it finally gets to him that he can fully see the dagger that pierces into his pride and drags his ego to the dirt strand by painful strand.
One's birthday isn't a cause for celebration in a Bellisario household.
It means a test and it means proving your worth and it means morphing your body from flesh to diamond or suffering the consequences. The breath that catches in his throat collapses into itself and he feels the nine markings of his own legacy singe his skin underneath the uniform draped across his chest. When he finally pulls the cupcake from its packaging his hands are shaking softly in the reminder of his own mortality, blue eyes staring down the red diamond accessory that is stabbed down into the frosting. No spit left to swallow and no ego left to fall back into-
It means he's failing.
Two mutts down and no blood spilled underneath his name, convinced not to snap Chad Chapman's neck just a day prior and Love Bellisario isn't living up to the very expectations that had been carved into his flesh since childhood. He falls into his own failure as he stands there, eyes glazed over until the soft hymns of a drone approaching them greets his ears. He snaps back into his own facade, choking down the stumbling breaths that threaten to spill loudly from his throat.
"Feel free to dig in. Cheers." He finally states softly, his eyes moving up from the baked good laced into his fingertips and towards his allies. He carves a smirk onto his face, eyes glinting with hollow anticipation as he raises the cupcake like a drink at a toast, mirroring the very movements his Father would make at every ball and gala the Bellisario family had ever thrown. He swears he can feel the red diamond centerpiece singe and sear his flesh as he pulls it from the cupcake, twirling it in his fingers for a second before dropping it into his pocket.
The pieces of diamond carved into his chest burn as he bites into it, all poisoned smoke and shattered mirrors.
