Mother; Sweet, Only Mother

Mother; sweet, only mother

She waited till moonfall as always; the silver light of her former reliever illuminating the silent steps of the once only Spirit of Vengeance. Even the scythe of the crescent moon seemed mournful, well aware what evil had been committed 33 years ago.

Once kneeling at the grave, Cindy began to arrange the flowers of bouquet she always brought, handpicked, only the best for her mother even in death. She did her best to remember flower language she explained to her on a humid summer afternoon with pictures so bright in the aging book. First, the crown of lilacs for family, white daisies woven close for innocence, blue hortensia petals covering the center for gratitude the way she raised her. A white lily interwoven with a lively pink orchid: Cindy's never passing mourning along with Viola's everlasting image of a graceful, beautiful, loving mother.

Her hands shaky by the time she was finished with the little altar which was always more appealing in her imagination than the final picture. Her legs no longer could support her, the marble cool even under her touch. Today she wasn't the Fire. The Creator and Destroyer of Worlds. Only a child who lost her mother.

“Happy- I don't know if this day is happy for you.” more rasp coating her voice than usual, three days in a year Cindy visited. Mother's day, on the day of Viola's death and on the day of her death. A child running to her mom for safety from harm that already befallen.

“I...I got the violets from Hell. From a very kind lady who- reminded me of you.” and every day she would talk until she passed out from exhaustion and slept through the remains of the night, curled up next to her headstone. Safe.

“Yes I have been going down to Hell for fun. I know how it sounds but I'm actually staying out of trouble...mostly. Well, better than I do up here.” the child admitted, a shaky hand reaching out to caress the orchid

“And I met someone.” glowing orange flowed from her fingertips, the ghostly flames swirling gently.

Slowly they took shape of a woman in a long, flowing dress and the gentlest possible expression on her face, also sitting on once pristine white marble gravestone with a pure smile and soft glint in her eyes. Deep down, Cindy knew it's only her magic that could make these moments as close to reality as possible; her tears always began to flow like a restless river of pain.

“His- His name is Erebus. He's...not like anyone else I've met or been with. He's kind. Gentle. Respectful. Talented, shy, guarded and mom, he's so beautiful.” inside and out but she couldn't say more per moment. Viola silently smiled and waited for her daughter to continue as she always did.

“He's an artist. A musician as well. We've both been helping each other in different yet so similar ways. He both can sing and play the guitar and he definitely didn't expect my voice.” the tiniest laughter before emerald blurred with liquid fire glanced up the radiant woman

“You would like him. I love him and I think...he feels the same. I really love him mom.” Cindy hasn't admitted it out loud so clearly before “I only didn't ask him to come with me visit you because...” because I'm not sure if he can. If he would get hurt for getting out of Hell. And I don't know the depths of horror I would unleash if he's harmed.

“Maybe an another time? If it's alright with you” the figure didn't respond no matter the agony pooling in the eyes that held the very universe within

Cindy unconsciously moved to hug her, desperate, foolish and hopeful that one day, it might be different. She passed through the semi transparent glowing stardust of a figure; an inhumane yet so human wail of agony tearing from her throat. Rivers of fire began to flow uncontrollably, her pain searing into the marble as swirling burnt orange with faint stars trapped within.

Hours passed till she somewhat could regain composure, after all she wasn't done yet. Haunting melodies carried by the wind filled the empty cemetery, a soul beyond repair singing her unquenchable sorrow. She sang without regard of strain, not when her only audience could never hear the true depths of her gift.

Sang until she collapsed against her headstone, trembling hands slowly readjusting the flowers of the crown while half conscious. It had to perfect. Just like she was. Cindy couldn't remember her eyes falling shut, her body giving away a year of exhaustion as she slept undisturbed, safe from night terrors, cradled in her mother's lap.

Female lean bisexual noises with an utmost chaos of a pansexual muse

Pride may still be half a month away, but I'm changing my icon early in solidarity with @winters-club

okay lets play a game: instead of y’all asking me headcanon questions, send me your headcanons for my muse. ( bonus: if i really like it i may make it an official headcanon )

A sharp cock of chiseled hips at the positive answer, in contrast of the lazy smirk slowly stretching across ruby lips.

“Well then, do I have to climb you for it or are you feeling courteous enough to spare me from that?”

“Wouldn't say no to tongue wrestling though.”

“Wouldn't say no to tongue wrestling though.”

‎ ‎ "I never get why folks always wanna fight me. Listen. Just because I'm fluffy does not mean i'm soft~"

“Then let me enlighten you why. She's missing parts of her soul, not due to a contract but as if it was bitten off by a rabid dog. She's no Hellborn nor Sinner as you call it here. The higher powers of this pocket dimension managed to find something to keep her chained and bend to their command. But oh once whatever they have on her runs out, gets destroyed; maybe she will even bring the fucking Armageddon as she breaks loose.” Cindy exposed without second thoughts, she only had aim: watching her mighty fall.

“Your respect is probably what saved you. She may not proclaim out loud ‘I'm the best’ but you can see it in her eyes, the way she carries herself. Silent pride, just as effective in getting the message across.” more the man spoke, more proof that it was indeed General Rozália Véghváry of the Phoenix Army. She was surprised how she hasn't burst into flames yet.

“Year what- oh.”

Well shit.

“Name's Cindy, Cindy Flame. I'm dead yet not at the same time, but more about that later. I think I know what you're referring to; at first I thought Hades officially threw in the towel with a fuck you all, but it wasn't a single occurrence, always a fresh wave around the start of each year.”

“Okay so Heaven-Earth-Hell are connected inseparably. And when Heaven does their yearly fuckery, it destabilizes the realms' connection. Therefore, the souls of the dead have nowhere to go except a closed off active war zone, so they return to their bodies. Which is...well dead. And boom: you get a fantastic zombie apocalypse with me trying to clean up the mess of these idiots' dick measuring contest who can't grasp the concept of balance.”

phoenixborn​:

wrxthfulguard​:

(X) @phoenixborn​

“I know better than to avoid asking her that question, not without breaching personal privacy… I can tell you and she and her army are assisting me in protecting the Princess of Hell’s hotel, and have been doing so in the previous yearly cleanses.”

Besides, Don knew that remembering death days were… Unpleasant, to say the most.

“I understand if you don’t believe me, but if you just answer my question… Then… I can take you to her… Perhaps rekindle any lost bonds between you and her.”

Army… Then…

“She’s the General.” Cindy whispered the conclusion mostly to herself.

The beast she had watched during fights. Who moves just like her mentor did. Who tears anyone against her apart. And she’s been unaware the whole time.

“I believe you. And there are no bonds.”

Sharp and defensive while still reeling from the information. If her father’s idol was such a great person, then what is she doing in Hell, licking royal’s boots? Oh so glorious freedom fighter. All previous sympathy for her mangled soul vanished without a trace, wiped clean by explosive magma rage.

“There’s only one place I will meet her. In the fucking ring of the Viper club.”

Hesitation about whenever she should make that step burned to ashes as well, Cindy has fought too much for to be the best. Both as a human and in the afterlife. After her mentor’s, Yuri Boyka’s death she felt she was worthy continuing his legacy, his memory. That demon won’t rip that away from her too.

“I’ve seen her fight without knowing her name. How come you aren’t in a wheelchair at least?” a scoff of disbelief, why did he receive such special treatment? Of not having limbs shattered, twisted, bent until they tore, broke beyond repair?

“I don’t know… Perhaps because I respect her as a tactician and a fellow fighter… That our respective past mortal lives have similar traumas… But… You’ll have to ask why I haven’t end up in a gurney of all places.”

Rozália was an ally and mentor to him, platonically… They both could speak of tactician matters that everyone else seemed confused on.

“Because I don’t pry into her personal life, I really am learning about her through our conversations… We both want to protect our allies and our home.” She was also one of his allies reminding him that he was safe in the hotel, and that… His past will not be repeated here in Hell.

“I’m still new to Hell, died in the year 20xx, so both of us are adapting to the changes around the Pentagram.”