#(don't expect me to write songbirds these long it probably won't happen again lmao)

[aventvrina]

songbird #12 - achilles come down featuring Sunday (@halothes) & Aventurine

summary: in the midst of nothingness, madness and harmony, aventurine sees the person who's responsible for it all.

"You crave the applause yet hate the attention, then miss it, your act is a ruse. It is empty Achilles, so end it all now. It's a pointless resistance for you."

'We've got to make good use of death.'

Such were the words he told Ratio before walking to his execution and such was the truth even if masked in deceit. The near omnipresent gaze was meant to hinder their plan as it should be impossible to lie under such circumstances. With every move read and every word analyzed the slightest misstep could be fatal but Aventurine is used to this pressure. After all poker had always been his favorite game.

The confident smile speaks of coercion, an early silencing of the dove that could shatter a million hearts across the universe but none would bleed harder than that of her brother. Tied to the altar as he was, it was impossible to move without stirring the delicate strings of the knot that held Penacony together.

How fortunate of him that Aventurine was there to hold his hand. A faithful servant who had offered himself so graciously, forfeiting his own freedom and power to Sunday as promise of his unwavering loyalty. He was to uncover the truth in his name, perhaps even bring the criminal to his trial, standing shoulder to shoulder with the head of the family as the sinner is sentenced for the murder.

Too bad The Family is not fond of games of deception.

With the barrier broken between the layers, Nihility and Harmony bleed into each other in a slow dance. The fissure reveals a hidden world submerged in slumber, far too big to be ignored but small enough to be temporarily contained. And although Aventurine should be walking beyond the barrier, he finds that there's still some defiant interference in his way.

He should not be seeing Sunday in front of him right now.

'This is all but a fleeting dream.'

They stand on what could be described as a roof top, the black waters gently dismantling the building from beneath but never quite allowing it sink. A silent devouring that should cease as the knot begins to mend itself whole again. But for now, IX remains in the horizon, uncaring of his travel to it's immense shadow and oblivious to the grappling resistant pull of The Harmony.

Sunday's hand is extended, expectant.

"Is this your last effort to keep me?" He can't help but to laugh. The trial should be over and the Harmony's connection severed from him. Whoever, Whatever he's seeing right now is not Sunday, but they managed to make him stop nonetheless.

'Do you love your family more than yourself? '

There is an underlying rage as he recalls the question. To force him to admit such truths to be used as punishment on him was foul. Even after decades of having his origins held against him by everyone he comes across, none hit quite as hard as having the fictitious promise of being reunited with his family again.

A new beginning, free from pain and eternally happy under the merry tune of the harmonious orchestra. It's disgusting. A laughably terrible joke.

Perhaps this is how they attempt to lure him back. If not by love then at least by hate. Surely he wouldn't pass the chance to have one last shot at winning his trial. They studied him so well, they gave his younger self the perfect day of a lifetime, his future a mocking smile that insults him from even daring to fight back, and his present. He was made captive in the dream, isolated from everything and everyone he has come know and forced to walk the Golden Hour in excruciating torturous pain under the guise of investigation. All the while he gave his cornerstone to whoever would accept, the broken aventurines are to spread fortune and wealth to those who need it most.

Such a magnanimous selfless act. He can't believe they fell for it.

The etched marble like smile remains ever so gentle as he approaches. Immaculate gaze elated as if the pain he has gone through was well earned and washed whatever crimes he had committed. All that is left is to do is take the hand and he is forgiven.

Aventurine finds that divinity and economy act the same way. They think themselves superior and justified as they bring ruin for those who swear to their name. Calling mercy to their guiding hand, promising sweet nothings that wouldn't be real had they not destroyed everything beforehand. But the worst of it all, is their self entitlement to punish those who do not comply.

Gaiathra Triclops punishes him for being born. The IPC punishes him for surviving. Sunday punishes him for doing his job.

The only difference is that Sunday is tangible, even if not quite at the moment.

"What a miserable move." He takes the waiting hand and guides it to his waist, letting it rest securely behind him as he crowds the figure. " You should never gamble, your bluff is terrible."

He really shouldn't be entertaining this but Aventurine doesn't know when to quit. Doesn't realize where the edge of the building and the sea of abyss is and how close to danger he truly is. He just keeps walking, guiding the ethereal figure in an embrace towards their destiny. And just as he has continuously done since he set foot in Penacony, he takes a gamble.

"Don't worry." His cynical smile doesn't match his gestures. Caring hands cradle the unmarred face, fingers webbing through soft feathery locks as he lures Sunday ever so close.

He's uncannily surreal, the precious gold doesn't shine in reaction, in fact, he continues to maintain the image of a merciful saint who knows of his past sins and has absolved them. It's a pity he can't have the satisfaction of seeing real fear in such a perfect face.

"I am still on your side." There's some honesty to every lie but the betraying kiss should be for the real one and not for this joke of a fabrication.

With a step back he jumps and then all is black.