[attr="class","appbody"]
[attr="id","cerberuscol"]caged icarus
spinning, spiraling wildly like a top. aimless in direction and volatile in energy. always moving towards
away, up, and
out. deeply afraid of chains, no one is allowed to hold milan. stare & he'll smile back. think of milan as a figment, a ghost, a theoretical being... nowhere and somewhere simultaneously... just never where you remember him. warmer on the surface than he is truly capable of, don't be disappointed when you hear the echo of his empty heart.
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positives (+) amiable ❊ independent ❊ adventurous ❊ tolerant ❊ open-minded ❊ optimistic ❊ forgiving ❊ passionate ❊ imaginative ❊ charming ❊ generous ❊ astute ❊ well-traveled ❊ easily inspired ❊ lifelong learner ❊ passionate ❊ spontaneous
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neutrals (/) opinionated ❊ observant ❊ rational ❊ values friendship > romance ❊ idealistic ❊ philosophical ❊ cerebral ❊ talkative ❊ history buff ❊ politics nerd ❊ ambitious ❊ up for anything ❊ promiscuous ❊ hates to be boxed in, labeled, categorized, etc. ❊ deeply desires to be understood but hates when people act like they get it (they don't)
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negatives (-) deceptive ❊ manipulative ❊ unpredictable ❊ commitment phobic ❊ restless ❊ impatient ❊ condescending ❊ prone to conspiracy theories ❊ paranoid ❊ acts, speaks without thinking ❊ reactive ❊ immature for age ❊ pompous ❊ know it all ❊ progress > people, progress for it's own sake
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miscellanous only child ❊ short & small (growth stunted) ❊ somewhere between vegetarian and vegan ❊ loves hunting (of almost anything)
[attr="id","cerberuscol"]i.
the house is a monster; cavernous, voracious, and unfeeling. it sits atop a hill, dominating the land underneath it. large dark windows cast an ominous glare onto the street below. the interior is all sharp corners, hard surfaces, glass, and fine art. your mother was a woman of restrictive taste. the halls, the floors, and the walls all were varying shades of beige with the occasional pop of grey. the perfect home for a baby. [break][break]
when you arrive swaddled in soft cloth, you are discarded almost immediately. there was an appropriate amount of cooing, picture-taking, and showing you off, of course. your mother, like your father, was a busy witch. they were busy handling real problems in the real world. a baby? there were people who took care of those things: nannies. you are an only child, having consumed your twin in the womb. there is an around-the-clock staff to dote on you, and distract you from the obvious: you are alone. [break][break]
as a child, your main interest comes into focus early: raising hell. you tear through the house, pressing grubby fingers against every clean surface. you scrawl with your art supplies on the walls. you pee inside potted plants. you keep setting fires in the unpopulated corners of the estate. priceless vases shatter on the floor near your feet. there is always an adult to come running, your name on their tongue. destruction thrills you in a way nothing else does.
[attr="id","cerberuscol"]ii.
destruction thrills you so much your body turns against itself, hollowing you out. though you're not old enough to find words, the feeling has already taken root inside your body, inadequacy. in some ways, you are grateful for the sickness. you have your parents' rapt attention now. they watch with a mixture of pity and horror as your cheeks sink into your face, and your skin becomes sallow. did they know the shape of your being before this?
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in bed, your body withers away. sometimes you fantasize that your body will completely evaporate. you imagine the shock on your parents' faces when they pull back your bed sheets to find nothing but a warm impression on the mattress. when you die will you become a ghost? you hope so. eternity is a long time, imagine all the haunting you could do. [break][break]
you're not allowed to leave the estate. the property is large and full of many things, but you feel trapped regardless. private tutors are hired and you're home-schooled. when they arrive you are much more interested in what they were doing
out there than anything they could teach you. some might say you were a bad student. not that you were unintelligent. but you cannot listen to anyone but yourself. everything they teach, you must challenge. sitting through lessons in torturous. boredom is a pick axe, plunging into the wet of your brain over and over and over. [break][break]
as an escape, you spend most of your time in the library. you tear through novels, and informational texts, and pour over the cadieux family records. you love to learn, on your own terms. ideas populate your mind. your imagination grows ever more powerful. still, there are only so many books that one room can fit. those pages, full of ink, have inadvertently stoked the flames of wanderlust in your heart. to read about the world was not enough. you needed to be in it. in the center of all of it.
[attr="id","cerberuscol"]iii.
even when you're not sick, your parents look at you like you might fall apart. doctors still regularly came to ensure the healthy functioning of your vitals. came to assure your parents that
it was not coming back. you've been ready to fly since birth. why can't they see that? your physical body, you're bigger than that. there is nothing, no part of you that can be held down. inside of you is a buzzing, a deep hum emitting from your skeleton. [break][break]
an apple, two glasses of water, a donut, a plate of pasta. everything you eat is carefully monitored. every time you go outside and for how long? noted. there is nothing you can do that will escape the watchful eyes of your parents. sometimes you wish you would've died, to spite them. they'd never seen you before and now they wouldn't turn away. their presence is an intrusion on you. was control the love you'd been missing? [break][break]
when no one is looking you pocket small treasures. your family has so much, why would they notice at all? you're planning to abscond. one night after dinner is served you vanish. all you take with you are the clothes on your back, water, snacks, and the stolen items you plan on pawning off. it feels like a lifetime in the making. the desire to be free has been overwhelming you for years. you were so focused on getting
out that you neglected to choose a destination. you are running nowhere fast. [break][break]
nowhere feels good. nothing feels good. the world is full of options and you marvel at them all.
[attr="id","cerberuscol"]iv.
you go to oracle university. you study everything. [break][break]
joining the ranks of cerberus has never been a question. you had the family tradition to uphold. it had been made explicitly clear to you that joining another coven, or worse none at all, would bring deep shame to the cadieux name. tradition means nothing to you and you're impervious to shame. if it wasn't for your intense fixation on cipher corps you might have defected altogether. (not to mention your family bankrolling your entire existence). you're sure that in the background, they're still there, watching you. [break][break]
to your dismay, you are a good child after all. there's still time to change that.
[attr="class","appplayedby"]played by [attr="class","appooc"][attr="id","cerberuscol"]temp
