https://i.imgur.com/OvGuVTO.jpg https://i.imgur.com/PwGqKZs.jpg https://i.imgur.com/oHaFfx1.png https://i.imgur.com/bjp3lgl.png https://i.imgur.com/q91oCqS.png https://i.imgur.com/NyDgFhD.png https://i.imgur.com/ZnW07k1.png
gold
familiar FamiliarDaunte, Peregrine Falcon
played by OOC Namekyou
I DEDICATE MY FIRST DEATH TO YOU
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Post by fierabras du ciel on May 11, 2023 21:49:47 GMT -7
AND WE ALL STILL DIE, WHAT WILL YOU LEAVE BEHIND?
TABLE OF CONTENTS
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https://i.imgur.com/OvGuVTO.jpg https://i.imgur.com/PwGqKZs.jpg https://i.imgur.com/oHaFfx1.png https://i.imgur.com/bjp3lgl.png https://i.imgur.com/q91oCqS.png https://i.imgur.com/NyDgFhD.png https://i.imgur.com/ZnW07k1.png
gold
familiar FamiliarDaunte, Peregrine Falcon
played by OOC Namekyou
I DEDICATE MY FIRST DEATH TO YOU
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Post by fierabras du ciel on May 18, 2023 7:45:38 GMT -7
[nospaces] [attr="class","loccont"] [attr="class","loctitle"] SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL [attr="class","locbody"]early november[break][break] Fierabras had an accident. This is what he had described as, at least, when his sister visited him in the hospital. She was with Maynard instead of Lord Corentin. Fierabras bitterly wondered if his father were too busy to visit him, too concerned with business ventures, and his determination to fly above his station; he discards the angering thought with ease when Inés wrapped her fingers around his hand and told him with furrowed brows:[break][break]
"You're an idiot, Fi-fi."[break][break]
He blinks, surprised. His remaining eye flickers down to their hands. Hers is shaking, it's barely contained fear, and maybe even anger. His gaze trails up her trembling arm, up to her face again, where he sees her actively hold back tears. Inés was always worried about him, which he had continually found funny. She was a young seventeen year old, the younger sibling—he was supposed to be the protective one, wasn't he? But Inés fills that role almost determinedly, even though she knew that if it came down to it, she couldn't do much. She had no magic, after all.[break][break]
Fierabras didn't know what to say except— "I'm sorry, Inés." He doesn't want her to worry about him.[break][break]
The first tear rolled down her cheek despite her best efforts to hold back. When that one falls, the dam breaks. The rain pours—one gets the gist. Fierabras could only watch as his sister sobbed, clinging onto his hand, wiping her tears with the back of the other hand. "Inés," He says, weakly. "Inés, look at me." And so she does, after some struggle. His thumb brushes against her knuckles, and then he pulls her into a tight hug. She returns the hug, just as tight, if not more so, clinging onto his gown.[break][break]
"I'm okay. I promise I'm okay, so don't worry about me."[break][break]
Of course, his promises don't stop her from swearing she'll take care of him. It's not long before she's also swearing she'll get him out of this godforsaken hospital. She misses him at home, and thinks him being there with her would help his recovery. He doesn't doubt that: he misses home, and he misses Inés more. Before she could get further into her promises ( and threats ), she has to leave when visiting hours are over.[break][break]
Fierabras places a kiss on her forehead before she does.[break][break]
And true to her promise, through some means she mischievously does not disclose, he is discharged from the hospital the next day. His three-day stay has been cut short to a measly two, and a coachman is there with a carriage to take him home. Inés is satisfied even as she's questioned in the passenger seat. She only says she's happy to bring him home.[break][break]
Fierabras remembers how the mansion seemingly towered over him when they pulled into the forecourt. Inés helps him out by the arm, and he has to remind her that he isn't fragile. She makes a face at that, but she respects him enough to let him try to get himself out of the cart's door.[break][break]
The wide double doors are nudged open, and they eek outward as brother and sister step into the wide foyer. A rumbling voice greets them moments after they arrive. "Welcome home, Fierabras." His singular eye flickered up to the graying old man stood at the top of the stairs, cane in hand, and looking critical as usual. His eyes are on Fierabras, not-so-subtly looking him up and down—he is masking disappointment.[break][break]
Inés feels him tense beside her, and with a glance of concern, the young girl placates the growing wolf in Fierabras. "Thank you, father." He utters, and casts his gaze down. "I'll be in my room to rest. The carriage ride was long." His father harrumphs at his excuse to scurry from beneath his gaze. "Rest well, Fierabras." His father turns away, likely heading into his study, and Fierabras stares far after he disappeared from the railing. He thinks, what a wretched, unbelievable old hawk. Mother's death had surely changed him, and for the worst. He sometimes wonders if he's being unreasonable. He was barely seventeen when his mother passed away, and Inés was just a baby. His family had the support of James Knox to make the burden of loss a little lighter, but his father spiraled seemingly indefinitely afterward. Fierabras wondered if he would ever see the light.[break][break]
january 3rd[break][break]
Fierabras had been busy since the Aegis Accords were lifted. Martial law, thousands of familiars reported missing, and Cerberus is being depended on to fill in the holes. It's been stressful, but the emergency shutdown was recently lifted as of December 2nd, and some emergency measures have been removed. This allowed Fierabras a little more time, albeit not much, to remain at the estate. Corentin, of course, is nowhere to be seen during the chaos.[break][break]
Inés, meanwhile, has been going back and forth between local charities. She's doing good work, he knows, with her kind and caring nature. She still worries for him, as he tells her he's been sent to patrol borders for daemon activity, among other things. The last thing she told him was that she will be gone for a few days as her charity group moves across Delphi to better help those in unfortunate situations since martial law began.[break][break]
Fierabras eagerly opens the door when he hears a knock, but he is confused when he sees the glint of a badge, and a pair of officers with solemn looks on their faces. His brows furrow in confusion before he speaks, a budding worry already seeding itself in his chest. "Good evening... What can I do for you, officers?" The first one, a pudgy older man, clears his throat. "Are you the master of the house?"[break][break]
"No. I'm Lord Fierabras du Ciel."[break][break]
"A relative, then?" Fierabras' brows furrow deeper. "...What is going on?" Did Inés get in trouble? It'd be like her. Despite her good nature, she often found herself getting into trouble for her misplaced good deeds. But Fierabras couldn't imagine what she could get into at this point in time. He also couldn't imagine what the officer would say next.[break][break]
"There was a small raid on the New Dawn earlier this week. We've identified one of the deceased as one Inés du Ciel. Condolences for your loss."[break][break]
The darkness seeps in, and the world loses all its sense. It doesn't make sense. Inés? His Inés? Heavy is the heart that cares. The color flees from his face—he doesn't hear the officer's hollow notion of compassion. Fierabras turns his head away, his grip upon the doorknob of his home impossibly strong. If he could, he would have crushed the metal in his hand. There is a moment of quiet, and awkward shifting as the officers wait a response. They're uncomfortable in his brewing anguish.[break][break]
When Fierabras turns his eye onto them again, it is several shades darker. "I will let my father know when he returns. Thank you for your condolences, officers." He says. He closes the door too quickly, with too much force, but he either doesn't care nor realize it. It's only when he hears their footsteps trail away that he sways and rests his head against the door. His heart sinks impossibly low.[break][break]
The world was cruel, as he knows.
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https://i.imgur.com/OvGuVTO.jpg https://i.imgur.com/PwGqKZs.jpg https://i.imgur.com/oHaFfx1.png https://i.imgur.com/bjp3lgl.png https://i.imgur.com/q91oCqS.png https://i.imgur.com/NyDgFhD.png https://i.imgur.com/ZnW07k1.png
gold
familiar FamiliarDaunte, Peregrine Falcon
played by OOC Namekyou
I DEDICATE MY FIRST DEATH TO YOU
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Post by fierabras du ciel on May 30, 2023 12:24:17 GMT -7
[nospaces] [attr="class","loccont"] [attr="class","loctitle"] LAZARUS RISING [attr="class","locbody"]january 10th[break][break] "What do you mean, you're not attending Inés's funeral." Fierabras du Ciel doesn't believe what he hears from his father the day of his sister's funeral. The man sits in his office, elbows practically burrowed into his smooth, mahogany desk. There are correspondences, manila folders, and other nameless papers and tomes built in miniature towers upon the surface. There is a half-empty glass of neat whiskey sat on a coaster. Fierabras stands across the room, close to the door.[break][break]
His father scarcely looks at him, but there is ice in his eyes. "I have somewhere else to be today, Fierabras. I cannot postpone—"[break][break]
"She is your daughter, and you won't say goodbye to her?" His tone takes to something his father has never heard from him before. He raises it, something similar to disgust as a descriptor would do it no justice. It is something which rattles deep, something that rolls at the pits of his stomach. It is something that has stayed with him for a long time, and his father only now recognizes it in a millisecond with rounded eyes that shine in surprise before his brows furrow.[break][break]
"I intend to say goodbye in another way." Another excuse. It's not good enough.[break][break]
"Why don't I believe you, Corentin?" Fierabras asks with a certain forlorn tiredness to his voice; it is almost expectant, how his father will shirk his responsibilities as a father. His lip lifts, and he sees the imaginary hackles of his father's shoulders would raise at the challenge. Sharp gunmetal eyes narrow on him, and Corentin pushes back his chair slowly. "You will not call me out of my name, Fierabras. I won't accept it."[break][break]
"All you care about is your damned titles." He sneers. He somehow crossed the threshold, crossed the center of the room, and now he stands before his father's desk. Fierabras looms over his father, all six feet and five inches of him, shivering in thinly concealed anger. He grips his hands tight to his side, and Corentin stares at him with cold astonishment. "You are hardly worthy of the title of father."[break][break]
"The audacity." The man scoffs. "You certainly are my son."
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https://i.imgur.com/OvGuVTO.jpg https://i.imgur.com/PwGqKZs.jpg https://i.imgur.com/oHaFfx1.png https://i.imgur.com/bjp3lgl.png https://i.imgur.com/q91oCqS.png https://i.imgur.com/NyDgFhD.png https://i.imgur.com/ZnW07k1.png
gold
familiar FamiliarDaunte, Peregrine Falcon
played by OOC Namekyou
I DEDICATE MY FIRST DEATH TO YOU
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Post by fierabras du ciel on Jun 5, 2023 16:53:35 GMT -7
[nospaces] [attr="class","loccont"] [attr="class","loctitle"] WHERE BUTTERFLIES NEVER DIE [attr="class","locbody"]april 25th[break][break] It's his birthday. He turns thirty-seven.[break][break]
The day was a dull one. Corentin avoided him, leaving him with a decorated basket of worthless material value sitting on the desk of his study. Of expensive wine imported from some faraway city, he admits he doesn't care much for, and other things a previous version of him might have been delighted to have. Fierabras only puts aside the wine because he figures Harold would like to have some later, and he gets rid of everything else, since it took up important space on his desk. He rips up the letter his father handwrote to him into tiny indiscernible pieces, and lets them flutter to his feet. Fierabras barely remember what it said before he ripped into it. It was something like—[break][break]
Stay your hand, my son, for I can't bear to see you lose yourself.[break][break]
It was rich, seeing such advice from Corentin. Was that supposed to be an attempt to be a father, passing on unbidden advice as parents are wont to? It's far too late for that now, and any gesture of warmth seemed horrifically shallow to the du Ciel heir. Fierabras was utterly uninterested.[break][break]
The son coldly regards his father when he returns, staring him down from atop the banister when he enters through the large doors pulled open by Maynard, who watches the frigid exchange with a sliver of a glance and a head tilted toward the floor. Corentin stares up at his indifferent, grief-stricken child, and Fierabras can't say he knows what the man feels while he stands down there. He hopes it's guilt.[break][break]
The afternoon gave way to evening, and evening to night. Fierabras found himself unwilling to return home, and decided instead to visit Inés's grave. He stops by a flower shop before it closes, and he buys tulips for her. They're in various colors of pink, red, yellow, and white — they were mother's favorite flowers, too.[break][break]
He walks to the cemetery by himself. Despite being into spring properly, snow would still oddly fall occasionally. It had been snowing most of the day, and now covers the ground in glittery white that crunches under his heavy feet as he walks forward. Inés' fresh gravestone stands amidst the others, the ones that are older, and have had time wear them down. Inés had been buried beside their mother.[break][break]
Fierabras sighs as he cleans off the snow off both of their headstones, and removes the dead and wilting flowers from their graves. He lays the fresh flowers on the ledge of their memorials, and by the time he has finished tending their graves, he stands, rigid. Oh, to know how to grieve. Fierabras doesn't cry, because he has been barred from doing so. Even while he stands on his own, blinking too fast, he cannot grieve the way he wants to. Even behind closed doors, he cannot weep.[break][break]
Does he know what grief even looks like?
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