🆁🅴🅳🅰🅲🆃🅴🅳 ᴄʟᴀᴜᴅᴇ

[supremity]

or: vague and all-knowing chessmaster club

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[supremity]

[ As everything tilts on its axis, a new memory spilling out with the fog, there is the sound of a child crying - big, hiccuping things and fat tears, apparent even with his face buried against a red-clothed woman. She's pale-skinned and beautiful, dark hair spilling around her shoulders as she strokes the child's back, each movement tinkling softly with the chimes of bells and charms on her clothes, around her wrists, her neck, her hair. For all the gentleness of her touch and soothing hushes, though, there's still something... other, something dangerous. Her dark eyes have something sharp to them, almost like the threat of a knife to your throat.

"Let me see that handsome face," she soothes, reaching around to pull back and take the child's chin.

When the child - a little boy, maybe five or six - looks up at her, there is one eye as dark as pitch like hers. The other, the right, a startling red, and not because of his tears. His face has fresh scratches, a new bruise blossoming on his right cheek, a split lip. "It's not... Mama..."

"And why would my H̕͠o̵n̶͡g̶̡͞-é̸r̀ argue with his mama like that? Hm?" the woman asks, taking the sleeve of her red, red robes and carefully cleaning his tears away. "Who would tell him these lies?"

Another hiccup, and the boy scrubs at his face. The fake independence of a child shamed, trying to cover everything up, miserably discontent, curling away. He mumbles something, covering the right side of his face in the end.

"Honǵ͏̸-͞èr."

"... monster," he mumbles again, before saying it with a little more strength, even as he hiccups. "I'm an - an ugly monster. A dirty... dirty mutt. That's what they s-said. That a-die s-should throw me out with the trash. 'cause that's where I belong."

The knife in her eyes sharpens, but even as she frowns, she takes his little fists in her elegant hands, smoothing her fingers over his split knuckles - just like that, the skin begins to stitch itself together again. "None of that is true, my darling, my treasure - whoever told you such lies, they are not worth your time, you must know this. Did you fight them?"

Another sniffle, his head lowering slightly. "... en."

"Good," she answers easily, reaching to brush his unruly hair back from his face. "H͏̧̀o̢n̴̡g̕-e̢̛͡r, don't ever let someone treat you as less than you deserve. Your future may be full of strife, but you decide your own fate, do you understand? There is no ominous star that you cannot take into your own hands."

As he's gathered into her arms again, pressed to her shoulder with all the tenderness and fierceness of a loving mother all at once, he tucks into her with a small nod. A kiss is pressed to his hair, and she rocks him with a quiet chuckle. "You'll stand at the top of the world, mark my words. And there will be no one that will show you such unkindness again."

The memory begins to fade on a lullaby in a low, mysterious voice, the words muddled in their meaning but their intent still there. Soothing, calming, almost a promise. ]