illie, sap sipper
she/her
27
september 23rd
snowpoint city, sinnoh
bi curious
geneticist, alchemist
head professor
you caged me and then you called me crazy; i am what i am 'cause you trained me.
TAG WITH @illeana
illeana reyes
DESTROYA [fw2]
POSTED ON Dec 4, 2023 3:36:10 GMT
DESTROYA
you won't like where we'll go it starts as it always does, as things that always break down do: with energy.
blue, pink, purple. they paint a pretty sky against a bleak future for there is beauty in destruction, in rebirth, in the coming of all that which is wrong in the world.
and here, in some way, she has taken up the role of the blight.
she is pestilence. she is war. she is famine. she is death.
they call her vastator. destroyer.
she sees the way their faces pale, the way blood drains right out of vessels until they're sickly and backing away.
the familiar face of FERNANDO SILPH is never without judgement - not even here - but there's an undertone she has never seen before.
fear.
it's palpable, clinging to the body like cigarette smoke in an unventilated room. her reaction is one of confusion, too, for she is out of place in this moment. disoriented, off kilter, center of gravity multiple degrees off.
"what?"
she sounds hoarse, wrong. something otherworldly plagues the vocal chords until they play a different tone.
"i'm facing my failures."
she doesn't quite understand. the concept settles differently here and now, with underlying evidence pointing to an anomaly of a failure.
"i'm your failures?"
"the consequence of children fall onto their parents."
her head tilts in confusion. the longer she stares, the more... off he becomes. a distorted version of himself, maybe, but the hollowness is striking.
"what do you mean? we're not even related."
"was i not the one to raise you into this role? the hand that was supposed to guide you but spoiled you rotten when i should have been stricter."
role? she blinks. dread coils up in the depths of her stomach until she feels the beginning bubbles of nausea.
"what role? head scientist? i don't know what you're talking about."
"...?"
silence falls and it feels heavy on her shoulders - like a cross she isn't meant to bear.
"what? why aren't you saying anything?"
"..."
sudden irritation comes and falls in waves.
"tell me."
for she doesn't understand... she can't see the warning signs, the turn back before it's too late signals. she's blind and for that, she will suffer.
"what do you see when you see yourself, reyes?"
has she looked at herself since waking up? has she even seen a mirror? she can't remember - it feels like a blur. her hands tremble slightly at the thought.
"myself, i think? sometimes there's the shadow of wings, too."
she doesn't expect the next question, then, for it is outlandish.
"who are you?"
"illeana reyes - the same person i've always been?"
his eye narrows.
"no one calls you that anymore, reyes."
what? she feels the world around them stop.
"only i do."
her throat goes dry at the concept. it takes a moment for her voice to return, tentative and wandering onto landmines.
"what do they call me?"
he does not mince his words. and for that, she supposes she should be grateful...
but what he says is a guillotine's blade against her neck all the same.
"the origin point."
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