Curufin, son of Fëanor (
so_dark_a_road) wrote in
hadriel2017-03-19 04:51 am
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We called upon ourselves the Everlasting Dark if we kept not our oath [ audio / video / action]
[ On the seventeenth of March, Curufin collects his harp and flute and picks a nicely reverberating corner of Sorrow's temple. He sets up his phone and then begins to play. If there are other members of Team Sorrow who can make music, they are welcome to join him, and in that case, there will be multiple instruments playing. Imagine any or all of the following: Peter Kater's My Beloved, Georg Deuter's Dämmerschein, or Deuter's Moon-silvered Clouds, except played with harp instead of piano.
What this music means to Curufin is the hour of his life when that life was coming to an end. He got himself and two of his brothers killed while attempting to destroy the Kingdom of Doriath, in order that he might keep a disastrous pledge that should never have been sworn in the first place. And, of course, he slew a lot of innocent people before he and his brothers died. He dimly remembers, as though it were a painful dream, the departure of his spirit on the winter wind, on a day in which there was a blue sky and vast white gray-edged clouds drifting above the forest, first under the sun and then by moonlight. He remembers his sorrow and that of the four brothers he left behind to weep and to bury their family. And he remembers his grief because now there could never be a reconciliation with his estranged son.
Elves have a certain magic -- they describe it as putting their thought into all that they make. This goes for music as well as for material artifacts. Curufin, as well, has a gift for casting a dark spell on others, transmitting a dark dream to them. But the dream he transmits here is dark but not evil, only profoundly sorrowful. It is not a sorrow without hope, however, because he himself is no longer hopeless. His post-death experiences have given him back his heart, and so his vision has a thin gleam of something positive in it.
Any listeners who are susceptible to this kind of performance will feel their own emotions, of course, emerging from their own experiences. It could be memories of loved ones cherished and lost, or other experiences of being grief-stricken. How they react is up to the individuals who hear. They should feel free, if they wish, to let him know how the music affects them. ]
[ OOC: Whoever wants their characters to be directly affected by this magic is free to do so, but of course it is not obligatory. Curufin's not a bad musician even without the magic. Also, OOCly, if your character tags in and allows himself or herself to become sorrowful, I will send Curufin to your post to experience the emotions of your character's team, or it can happen in this log. Fair trade! Everybody benefits. XD ]
What this music means to Curufin is the hour of his life when that life was coming to an end. He got himself and two of his brothers killed while attempting to destroy the Kingdom of Doriath, in order that he might keep a disastrous pledge that should never have been sworn in the first place. And, of course, he slew a lot of innocent people before he and his brothers died. He dimly remembers, as though it were a painful dream, the departure of his spirit on the winter wind, on a day in which there was a blue sky and vast white gray-edged clouds drifting above the forest, first under the sun and then by moonlight. He remembers his sorrow and that of the four brothers he left behind to weep and to bury their family. And he remembers his grief because now there could never be a reconciliation with his estranged son.
Elves have a certain magic -- they describe it as putting their thought into all that they make. This goes for music as well as for material artifacts. Curufin, as well, has a gift for casting a dark spell on others, transmitting a dark dream to them. But the dream he transmits here is dark but not evil, only profoundly sorrowful. It is not a sorrow without hope, however, because he himself is no longer hopeless. His post-death experiences have given him back his heart, and so his vision has a thin gleam of something positive in it.
Any listeners who are susceptible to this kind of performance will feel their own emotions, of course, emerging from their own experiences. It could be memories of loved ones cherished and lost, or other experiences of being grief-stricken. How they react is up to the individuals who hear. They should feel free, if they wish, to let him know how the music affects them. ]
[ OOC: Whoever wants their characters to be directly affected by this magic is free to do so, but of course it is not obligatory. Curufin's not a bad musician even without the magic. Also, OOCly, if your character tags in and allows himself or herself to become sorrowful, I will send Curufin to your post to experience the emotions of your character's team, or it can happen in this log. Fair trade! Everybody benefits. XD ]
CW: Mentions of Death; Manipulation; Abuse
He finds himself unwillingly recalling every detail of them, the way his mother took the gunshot to spare him, despite all of his years of abuse under her. How he took her image after it happened and it freaked him out because he couldn't make the curse end until he fell down the stairs.
How kind his adoptive family was, and how the mother had taken up research that had to do with his, and his other "siblings" abilities. She had loved all of them, and she ended up dying in an accident. And he didn't find out that the reason why she lost her life, because of that research for them, to save them from it, until Ayano discovered the research notes some time later and asked him to help her save their father.
Or how Ayano had sacrificed herself, in the face of Wide-eyes Snake possessing her father, and she jumped off that building, to save Shuuya and disrupt the cycle of the Eyes abilities. And how Wide-eyes Snake manipulated Shuuya to play the part of Ayano's corpse, under the threat to kill the rest of his family.
And how all three of their bodies had been claimed by the Void.
Before he can stop them, tears start falling down his face and he quickly buries his face in his hands, trying to hide the shame as much as he can, being where he is. Every detail, every last moment, it stung. I really am a monster. It's all my fault!
He curls into himself as he crouches to the ground, desperately scrambling to put the mask back into place, but with the lull of the melody always pulling him back in, he's in agony.
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"Shuuya?" He kneels down and touches Shuuya's shoulder.
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He wants to, so desperately wants to, put a smile on his face and pretend nothing's wrong, like he always does. Hell, he'd give anything to pretend he doesn't even exist right now. He wishes he could disappear from sight and not be a problem to anyone anymore.
A few painful breaths escape his lips, as he attempts to muster up even a ghost of a laugh, only to completely fail at that, too. He gives something broken that he's praying resembles a smile as he bites his lip before finally speaking.
"It's all my fault, y'know? They're all dead because of me." He holds his arms out to the side, gritting his teeth, clenching his nails into his palms. "It's all my fault! I'm a fucking monster! You should really hate me, y'know? Before I end up killing you, too!."
He'd swear he can feel his nails breaking the skin in his palms, and he honestly couldn't care about the sting.
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"I don't know your history, but it can't be worse than mine. I don't hate you." He disregards the threat, hearing its desperation. "Your palms are bleeding." He removes a clean kerchief from his sleeve and offers it to Shuuya.
"I am sorry. The music was meant to create sorrow, and I'm afraid it does exactly what it was composed to do. This is not your fault, it is mine."
CW: Death mentions and idealization.
He rubs a hand against the tears on his cheek, smearing blood acrost his face, a new stinging inflicted on the fresh cuts. He sees the handkerchief, but doesn't take it. Curufin's being nice, he shouldn't taint something of his.
He hates this. He's only been here a handful of days and he's already falling apart. He berates himself a little longer, both inside his head and out loud.
"I'm the worst. I'm a traitor, and a monster. Everyone died because of me. If I didn't exist, they wouldn't have died. If I would have died instead of mom, everyone would have been better off. Why me? Why was I the one that survived? All of them..."
He grips his hand against his hair as he curls his knees up to himself.
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"We all ask those questions: Why was I the one to survive? Why couldn't I have died instead of them? You aren't alone, believe it or not."
He'd like to ask Shuuya what happened, but right now, he just wants to tell Shuuya that having a heavy conscience does not mean he's worthless. Not in Curufin's eyes, anyway.
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But, he manages to regain his mental footing. It's time to put all that pain back away. He wipes the other side of his face with the back of his hand and pushes back all of his grief, giving Curufin a smile. He's going to pretend nothing happened at all. That's the best way to do it, right?
"Heh, hey, I guess we're even right? I got points for Fear and you got points for Sorrow."
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And as for Shuuya pretending that nothing happened. . . ? Best, perhaps, to allow the young man to deal with his grief in whatever way he chooses.
"You're right. We're even, aren't we? Both our teams benefit." He smiles back.
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"I'll bet your team wins if everybody hears that music. Is that a song from your world? It's kind of pretty."
You know, when you're not busy writhing in the agony of your own memories.
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Of course he's going to accept Shuuya's shrugging off the incident. It's not Shuuya's fault anyway; he had no idea he was walking into a musical ambush.
"How are you doing, with your work for your team?"
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"Huh, so you've traveled to other worlds before? That sounds inconvenient. How do you like it?'
"Eh, not too shabby. I've scared a few people." He gives a grin.
Actually, he's still kind of weirded out and confused that Regis didn't hit him.
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"You scared some people, did you? How did you do that?" Curious. Glad he got Sorrow and not Fear, though.
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A sheepish grin.
"He kind of cut my shoulder, so my illusion dropped. I thought he was going to be really mad at first, but..." He actually ended up not being? Shuuya's still really confused about that. And still kind of feels bad for the look of horror he caused Regis by asking why he didn't hit him harder.
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"Old man?" He only knows a few old men here at Hadriel. "Who was that? And you say he wasn't mad?"
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"Yea, I mean he scolded me a little. But even that was only a little bit." He actually wishes Regis would have, at the very least, yelled a little more if he had no intention of hitting him. The whole people not hitting and screaming at him thing? It's uncomfortable to him. Uncomfortable and awkward. Which was intensified by that look of horror the King gave when he realised Shuuya expected to be hit. It was the painful desire torn between wanting to tell Regis to hit him and knowing it would only make it worse if he did.
He still isn't sure he made the right choice.
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Y'know, to change the subject off of him for a little while.
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He's perfectly willing to let Shuuya change the subject. He'll talk about anything and everything with him.
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"Yea, he told me a little about his kid, too. Pretty nice guy from what I understand. You... don't look old enough to have children, though?"
Definitely nowhere near as old as Regis.
"So, what do you know about the Colosseum? Anything interesting about it?"
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"Most of what I know about the Colosseum comes from when I tried to blow it up. Other than that, I don't know much. Just that new people appear there, so I suppose the fabled Door that lets us in must be located in it. Or under it."
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"Whoa, you tried to blow it up?! That's so awesome!" Shuuya laughs. "You're an interesting guy. What'd the Colosseum do to you in order to get blown up?"
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"Yes, I tried to blow it up. There was a strange event about three months ago. Everybody got angry, and a lot of us began to behave rather like mad dogs. And for the strangest reasons! I began to HATE buildings with multiple windows. Windows and window-apertures looked to me like the very essence of EVIL. And I was walking past the Colosseum when that first window-hating thought came into my mind. You've seen it. It is basically a triple circle of fifteen-foot-high windows. No glass, but windows all the same. And so I rushed back to my workshop, where I had already gathered the materials with which to manufacture explosives. And I made some dynamite. And then I rigged some sections of the Colosseum walls with the stuff. I found detonator cord -- mysteriously! -- in the ruins of some of those unused alien shops. And I wrecked a fair part of that damnable building. I have to say, it was fun. But then my son found me and dragged me off to the orchard to cool down."
"So, no, the Colosseum didn't do anything to deserve it, unless you count being the location of the Door that brought us all here. And truthfully, I'm not all that sorry about being here. So I guess you could say the building was innocent." Smile.
"So what's your interest in the Colosseum, Shuuya?"
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Shuuya can't help but laughing at the story.
"Hot damn, remind me to stay on your good side! A bunch of explosives just for windows." He continues to snicker as he tries to picture a Curufin flailing against his son's grasp to pull him away from the destruction of a place that fueled his hatred.
"Y'don't miss home, huh? You don't think it's rough here?" Shuuya inquires rather neutrally with a casual grin.
Shuuya shrugs at the question.
"Nothing spectacular. I arrived here in it and found scary things and other people. I guess maybe I'm just trying to understand it. It's a weird thing to have been pulled to another dimension without having to face death first."
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"I do miss home, but I know I can't go back. And yes, it's rough here, but not more so than home was."
"The quest for understanding. . . of anything. . . is a worthy quest. I respect that. Ah, so you came here without dying in your own world? -- that makes it harder, I guess? Unfinished business in your life?"
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With a look of humor, he stepped a little closer and lowered his voice as though to conceal this information from any overly curious ears. ". . . how could I go back to that future version of my world, when I'm still there? There can't very well be two of me!"
"No, seriously, I have a history that I would think any self-respecting Door would find impossible to sort out. I think it would give up in frustration or disgust if it tried to deal with me."
"So it isn't me I'm worried about, it's my son. He came directly from a terrible situation, and he must not go back. At least, not without me -- and I doubt the Door would be so kind as to send us both, even if it could. So, neither of us can leave."
"And besides. . . there is someone else here whom I would not wish to leave." His voice had grown much quieter and more contemplative.
But in a minute, his attention returned to Shuuya. He became aware of the young man's silence surrounding Curufin's questions, all but the one. And not wanting to pry, he only looked at Shuuya with a kindly expression, acknowledging the silence and silently telling him with his eyes that he might keep his secrets or tell them, as he chose.