henrys-eulogy-aflame

[henrys-eulogy-aflame]

Hello Jude. The island must be getting pretty boring. Is there anything you miss the most about back home?

-- There are birds chirping, and squawking, making noises of which you have never heard before. Jude sits alone, sitting on top of a rock on a mountain top that you have never seen before. Do the other boys know of this? The heat that beats it's rays down on your neck seems lesser up here, guarded by the thick foliage and sweeping leaves. The smell of smoke from the signal fire doesn't follow you and cling to your hair up here. But even up here, you can hear the shouts and giggles of boys below, playing hunter with one another, or the crisp yell of one boy to another in frustration. Jude isn't watching them, though. The noises don't seem to bother him anymore. Maybe they did once. --

-- Jude hardly regards you with his eyes, as if he can't see you standing there. He's drawing in the dirt with his finger, a repetitive motion. A spiral. He doesn't smell like the other boys. There is no unbearable lingering stench of sweat or blood. He smells like fresh linen and the tinge of metal, likely from a wound somewhere on his body. You can't see blood to confirm the suspicion. You find yourself sitting next to him as you ask your question, even though he didn't invite you to sit. --

"What do I miss the most about home, eh?" --Jude glances off, as if the question is difficult for him to understand. His voice cracks smally when he lands on a reply; -- "The silence."

"All the boys want to do anymore is bicker between one another. I know as well as Ralph that none of them have checked the signal fire. When was the last time you saw Norman tending to it? Or Johnny? Or Ripley? Who sits with the fire, and who lets it go out? Who runs around the island like a chicken with their head cut off?

I don't understand how Ralph puts up with them. I miss the silence of my mother cutting roses in our backyard and putting them into a basket for me. She never spoke, you know. She handed me rose after rose, making sure there were no thorns, but never told me to be careful. You only prick yourself once before your lesson is learned, and you start to check."

-- Jude shrugs. He is pretending like the boys don't bother him, but if you poke and prod, you may discover his real feelings. How long has it been since it has been silent? Are the nights not quiet? Why does he crave silence above all else? Above his mother, his father, his home? --

"None of them actually want to get off of the island anymore. They are where man belongs. Where man thrives. They have gotten a taste from the fruit of the Garden of Eden and didn't stop to wonder if they should have eaten it in the first place. They are greedily swallowing it like it's freedom, but even poison tastes like freedom if your tongue isn't conditioned to the bite.

They don't want to leave anymore, whether they admit it or not. They have consumed a false view of freedom and become their worst fears. Monsters, the lot of them are. I miss the silence of a lack of monstrosity. I miss the silence when it was simply me, and no boys repeating the sins of their fathers."

-- Boys become their fathers. Girls become their mothers. We should invent a mother who wants to be saved. We should invent a father who's sins we don't need to repent for, you think bitterly. Maybe Jude is right. Maybe the boys that you saw laughing and playing earlier are no longer boys, but grotesque creatures that wear the mask of a child. --

"They don't see the looks on the children's faces when those boys realize that they'll never go home. Ainsworth, Shepherd, Damon, none of them care about the words they spew because here, they can't bear the consequences of their words. When petty romance, crushes, feelings, arguments have taken priority over a ship in the distance, do we not realize that we are not the only ones affected? How do you tell a five year old that he'll never see his mother again because that isn't what you're worried about? You're worried about the qualms of others, like a childish girl who hates her peers and spreads gossip would. How do they look those children in the eyes? Those children look to boys like them for hope and find nothing in their eyes but a fate they are cursed to repeat?"

-- You find yourself nodding in agreement with Jude, his points coming off in a soft spoken tone, with a bite that isn't communicated by his volume. You can see it, that's for certain, but why can Jude? Why can a thirteen year old boy look at what was happening and not be privy to it as well? --

"Every millennia, man has a new God. What is stopping the one you think protects you from being disproven in a century or two? His protection is nothing but a blanket to keep you warm. The blanket has holes, slowly gnawed away at by moths. Alexander preaches of a higher power that he can't even prove would save us. There is a lack of God amongst the boys. Maybe they should crawl back to the pew and repent for what they've done, but I doubt their egos would allow them to stoop so low as to consider their own wrongdoings.

A lamb is full of innocence. They unknowingly wander to their slaughter, led there by God against their wills. Boys like Ainsworth are running at full speed to the slaughterhouse, shoving past others to be first and still claiming innocence. Their guilt will not be their purity. Ainsworth's belief in God will not send him to Heaven. Ainsworth can hardly claim that the island hasn't taken hold of him. What sort of proper boy breaks noses?"

-- Jude sighs. He knows. You don't know how, but he knows that he's the only one who sees these things. That nothing will change. That the best he can do is care for the embers of the fire and hope home comes sooner than death. A loving embrace, either way. --

"You ought to visit the Louvre sometime, if you haven't. What a way to make you feel as small as possible. As insignificant as possible. I doubt any of these boys have ever felt anything but the world turning around them. The world turns even if your body is six feet under. The world does not pause for any of us. I merely hope their sins are forgiven by whatever God they believe in."

The bigger man.

-- Jude stands up. You don't know why you feel disappointed. There was more you wanted to hear, not enough time spent with him. His tone is gentle, and his words are venom. But he knows truth, unlike everyone else on the island. Painted faces hide scars. The children on the beach are losing teeth and you hadn't seen a single boy caring for them. How could everyone be so okay with staying where they are? Jude was right. How could they ignore children in favor of themselves? How would they face the wrath of a mother who lost her child because of their disregard? --

@bubos-apothecary @ask-norman-alexander-lotf @finscadetkids @ask-abel-lotf @everettes-requiem @henrys-eulogy-aflame @ask-franklin-shepherd

[henrys-eulogy-aflame]

“Ev! There you are.” 

Henry runs up to the blonde boy by the rocks. The trail of buzzing flies crawling up his arms and face are a stark reminder that he is still in the beast’s clutches.

He’s holding something in his hand; Flowers.

“Remember when I used to give you flowers all the time, Ev? ‘N’ you’d make fun of me for it? I…. I thought I’d bring you some more.”

The atmosphere between them is different, no longer two hurt boys on a mysterious beach, more like a fallen angel and a skittish demon standing opposite eachother on the firey plains of hell. In the unholy one’s hand, he holds forgiveness.

“I dunno what they mean, I haven’t spoken to Frankie in a while, and after everything… I think he’s better off without me bothering him. But they’re… droopy. If I had to say, I’d say they mean… sorry.”

Henry pauses, before holding them out. “I… haven’t quite forgiven you for what happened. But I’m sorry that it did. And pink flowers always looked nice in your hair.”

When Everette finally reaches out to take the flowers, Henry’s touch lingers on his hand. He missed this, the touch, the break in the world’s pain to hold in his hands what is most precious to him. His Angel. 

—Henry (@henrys-eulogy-aflame)

everette could be found sitting on the rocks by the water. he picked up one of the smaller stones that was around, opening up his palm to take a look at the rock that lay in it. it was smooth, free from imperfection. suddenly, irrationally, he throws it. the stone hits the water’s surface with a light thud, before sinking down beneath. it was as if this was his way of cursing at the waves— the currents, for not bringing them any opportunity or chance to get off this island after they had wasted their last. he picks up another, his fingers feeling the sharp edges of this one, only to clench his hand around the jagged item. he aims it with a warm exhale, closing one of his eyes in a futile attempt to find a meaningless spot in the endless sea for it to disappear down into. but before he can actually toss it, the sound of a familiar voice causes him to still. he looks over his shoulder, coming face to face with henry. the frustration in his eyes are painted over then and there with an unreadable expression as he stares. a bad omen seems to stares back at him.

his grey eyes glance up and down the restless figure that stands in front of him. more wounds and scars than clear skin, a plethora of flies gathering to feed at the little life he had left— and the shine in his eyes, having already been dimmer than most, was gone completely. "ripley. finally showing your face after all that time in the forest, are you?"

but, was this really henry? his answer seemed to lie in what the other held in his hands, the hands that could pray for mercy no more. the cursed boy holds flowers in them like he did once, a long time ago. a continuity in the consumed, some hope in the bleakness. he blinks once, and then twice. everette lets the rock slip from his fingers, standing up and dusting himself off. while he does so, he speaks in a tone that is made up of feigned indifference

"only to start acting as if im scatterbrained, or that my memory’s all dodgy. watch it, ripley. i'll have you know that I haven't forgotten. it's quite hard to forget something like ‘hat when it seemed like every time we crossed paths— or well, every time you came up to me or whatnot, you always left flowers in your wake. it was queer, to say the least. ‘here’s a handful of pretty girls around, you know. i'd say they're more suitable for your flowers" "but here you are, doing ‘he exact same thing all over again. have you learned nothing? i would have thought something managed to get in that head of yours. after all, last i checked all the dahlias left on the island had been stomped to shreds. i wonder what happened ‘here. guess it doesn’t exactly matter now. i really do need to stop setting expectations for people who can't meet them"

he pauses, growing quiet as he tilts his head, taking in the sight of the flowers . they were down turned and pink. though. the color seemed a bit dull. one could even mistake them for vaguely wilted at first glance. "they're different this time around" his voice comes out softer than intended, a whisper in the dark. "they remind me of you."

"a reflection of the picker, drawn to the thing that resembles you the most i suppose. ‘hough, i would have thought you would’ve been repulsed instead. if these mean sorry, then they’re simply just a sorry excuse for an apology in the form of a flower" despite his words and definitely against his better judgement, his fingers reach out. his hesitation is overridden by this testimony to normalcy and his desperation to take it within his grasp. whether this is him reaching out to the flowers, or truly towards henry, the lines blur in obscurity. their hands graze each other, and they stay like that a second longer than they should have. though, the already fleeting moment is short lived. as everette pulls away, a single flower remains in his hand from the bouquet.

he no longer looks at henry, his gaze slowly drifting down to the flower he holds in his hand. he holds it gently, uncharacteristically so. it was as if he were afraid if he handled it incorrectly, the petals would fall off and would drift out of reach, for it wasn’t piece of floral in that moment. in between his fingers is a fragile remnant of this so-called forgiveness between the two boys— a kind of forgiveness he would never get again, especially not from god. hardly could call them boys anymore. after all, what have they made each other out to be? surely anything but human, though nothing short of hurt. a sigh leaves everette's lips.

"i don't want forgiveness, if that is what you think. if that's what you were hoping for. i don't care for it. i’ll let you know beforehand that i’m not sorry either, my words held at least some semblance of truth. ‘hey still do. people don’t like the truth very much, i’ve noticed. sucks to them"

"tell me, henry. what good is forgiveness if attachment has already run its course? makes no difference whether you forgive me or not, if we keep satiating our loneliness with each other anyway. that’s what you said, right? that we’re all that’s left?”

in everette's heart— the angel's soul, there is only emptiness left. the boy had let go of his humanity to achieve a false sense of divinity, betraying himself in attempts to grasp at the redemption and attention he desperately needed. while the other, having traded his own humanity away under the promise of familial love and the care he constantly craved, only to become something incapable of it all. both tied together by their fractured selves, pieces put together without regard for which belonged to who.

"you should go now. you know what happened the last time you stayed for too long. wouldn't want more poison in those fly infested wounds of yours. and— keep the rest of those flowers for yourself. i feel you need them more than me”

— everette ainsworth 🐑 @henrys-eulogy-aflame

[henrys-eulogy-aflame]

not lotf related but rbing specifically for Henry and Richard

Everyone clap for non consensual body modification everybody loves a character whose body has been altered against their will

[henrys-eulogy-aflame]

are my boys still relevant👀

I love them i love them i love them i love th

🩵🤍

(everette: @everettes-requiem)

[henrys-eulogy-aflame]

“I’ll do it.” He declares, tense in his father’s embrace. “Just…. Don’t hurt Ev’.” His body felt wet and sticky with blood that his eyes couldn’t see. He could feel his insides throbbing, despite the fact that the flies had withdrawn. He was withered even without them.

“Don’t say those things about him. I know what it’s like to be alone. To be liked by… no one. Don’t hurt him, please.” It was torture, trying not to shake and tremble, but he kept his muscles taut like a bowstring.

It hurt to know that It was true. He was a coward, and he was disgusting. He could hardly bear the touch of flesh against his, so when richard finally let go, he ran. Through the forest, the form he could feel and the one he could see merged into one, tormenting him as he swept through the forest. Dead. Alive. Bloodied. Clean. Monster. Boy.

He was both, he was everything. He couldn’t hear buzzing anymore. He felt the stickiness of blood pool in the crevices of his fingers, like collected rainwater. He had to find him, the boy he knew was haunted, even more certainly than Henry was. Poor, doomed boy just like him. The boy who still above all had a kind heart.

Henry.

[A voice slowly whispered into his ears. A familiar one.]

My son.

[It started forming. Not as a physical form. But as a thought. A concept in the back of any child's head. It took over simply to talk.]

We have a plan for you, my child. Do not worry, we will get you back together. We know you long to come back to what you used to be.. Remember, child. Remember what we said—

The benefits will outweigh the consequences.

Now, hear what we will have to say. We will need your.. assistance.

„I won’t hear you. Not after who you’ve made me become.„

his arms and legs crawl with flies, and he doesn’t even look to the figure before him.

„you think I wanted to be this? This… monster? I don’t care how many plans for me you have. Half the time i see myself, i’m a corpse. I’m already past the grave. I don’t want that.

Its one thing to want to be dead; who wouldn’t be? On this island where hardly anything is good or holy? But to live half my time as a bleeding, rotting corpse, my monstrosity fleeing from my fingertips, yet ravaging my mind?

you claimed to have good intentions for me. Your son. You say the benefits will outweigh the consequences. But I don’t believe you. No, I don’t want to help you, Father.”

[henrys-eulogy-aflame]

He’s twitchy about things to say the least. Head snapping around at the sound of a twig falling to the ground, hardly content with rain at night, knowing the curtains of water could shroud yet another peril hidden amongst the foliage. Rain, which will bring with it smooth, cool deposits of water at which he cannot bear to look for fear of his own monstrosity.

“Henry” no longer means flowers, or kindness or peace. He hasn’t been those things for a long time. He is desperate, struck with need that mingles dangerously with his fear. He’s holding on twice as hard to the things he’s lost, for the fear of them being taken away again. He bears the fruits of forgiveness, yet withdraws them from the world, too afraid that what he has given before will be stripped from him again.

If theres nothing holy on the island, nothing will keep him together with Everette, which is why he’s holding on ‘til both their fingers bruise. The unfortunate boy is his angel, mirroring the void that churns and grows inside Henry. Everette will leave, to hunt or to fetch fruit, but upon his return, Henry can hardly let go. Sleeping close, holding tightly onto his arm… he is eternally desperate for his humanity. He notices the time the boy spends away from him increases, and he knows it’s his own fault.

Growing far too desperate, he unknowingly pushes away the thing he needs most. Despite his denial, his father’s words hang heavy over him. Henry knows he has little time left to resist, so he spends his days terrified. Though he is warmed when he sleeps, he feels the warmth slowly pulling away. Henry knows he’s different, and he would be a liar to claim Everette doesn’t know it too. He’s not the same little boy anymore… and though when he asks, all he receives in return is “you’re just…different.”, it is plain that the difference isn’t good.

He’s slowly losing hope that either of them will make it out. Yet he doesn’t know what is worse: to die alone, without the one thing that can replenish his ruin, or to die with him, and have to watch the light leave his eyes. Either way, time is running out, pulling at Henry like strings wrapped around his fingers. Skin crawling with flies, he’s sure soon enough he will be walking to his doom. He can’t find it in himself to resent the call of death. Perhaps it will finally allow him peace.

Henry Ripley doesn’t believe in the afterlife; but he believes that even death’s chilled embrace would offer contentment far beyond that of staying alive in this hell.

the father in question: @we-are-richard-lotf

the angel in question: @everettes-requiem

[henrys-eulogy-aflame]

"Why are you so angry?

You speak really formally, you know? A lot of people here speak really formally. It makes it scarier for the smaller blokes when you start lashing out like that. You think no one can hear the arguments you have with others? It's always like listening to a stage play with the way you lot talk to each other.

Why do you do that, why do you act so hostile all the time? Is there any point or are you just doing it to feel a step above everyone else? We're stranded here together, you know, you're not going to benefit isolating yourself like that.

You don't have to be formal with me. We're on equal footing, in the same situation, aren't we? I could be your friend."

- ☀️ ( @finscadetkids )

“you’re nicholas. you’re friends with johnny” he spoke before the other could even get a word in. he let out his words cautiously, a bit more careful than he usually was. he looked at nicholas in the eye only slightly, before turning his attention to the weapon strapped to him. that was the real cause for concern.

“why are you here?” his eyes narrowed. surely johnny had told him about their little quarrel. though everette was sure nicholas was harmless, and that he himself was far from a rabid animal, so it was unlikely that he would shoot him point blank. but, there was still a possibility— and that possibility was most likely higher now considering how recently he made enemies with his best friend

but despite this and his efforts at the start to stay wary, his inherent nature betrayed his deteriorating want to live— to survive that is. his accursed tongue was no stranger to verbalizing his inner unbridled detestation, and thus, he did. there was no longer much regard for the other's feelings, nor his own life at this point so early in time

“did he send you my direction to send a bullet through my head? i already have enough to deal with after what abel did to me, you know. but of course you probably know. everybody does at this point. word spreads fast amongst you loathsome lot. as fast as 'he fire that happened on this island when we first got here. or maybe—“

everette’s words, just as they were starting to return to their rhythmic bouts of bitterness, ended as quick as they began. his words caught in his throat, the other boy's question hanging in the hair, until it fell into everette's hands. his grey eyes slowly met nicholas’ brown eyes. a glare riddled with building aggravation, met with a look of straightforward sincerity.

heat started to prickle beneath everette's skin. it slowly began to simmer to the surface, no doubt it was going to boil and overflow sooner or later. “what kind of question is that? you know, your little blue eyed friend came up to me with a stupid question just like yours not too long ago. didn't think i've ever cross a question more foolish than his, but 'hen here you are, presenting me with one 'hat might as well serve to be a testament to how daft you can really be. that's one thing about you nicholas, you just have to keep proving me wrong, don't you?"

"i've constantly overheard people say you two are opposites, but maybe i'm the first to actually find a solid similarity. how you two are complete idiots and sorry excuses for people. is that why johnny said you like the smarter folk? is 'hat to make up for your wits being non-existent, or am I mistaken? oh, of course not, i never actually am"

"you do know the saying that goes two heads are better than one, do you not, nicholas? though, how much better are they really if they're both as hollow as some seashell, hm? just like that useless conch that ralph still keeps around, 'hinking it'll do him any good anymore"

“it’s not like i was expecting anything more out of you, wasn’t expecting much at all, really. you could even say that they were in the ground, six feet below or what not— especially with the kind of people you associate with. but, perhaps even then my expectations were apparently too high, which I never thought to be possible"

"i thought you were going to shoot me dead. make me bleed from my head rather than from my nose. but now? quite honestly, i think i’d rather 'ake that over having a conversation with you” but, through all of this, the initial question still remained unanswered. purposeful ignorance, avoidance even. nicholas moved on after all, no reason for everette to dwell on it, no matter how much it provoked him. but, why did it provoke him so? was it because he truly thought it wasn't worth his time? or was it because for once, he couldn't properly answer him because he didn't know how to.

everette opted to focus on other things instead, he had no choice but to do so. he strained to listen to nicholas, a faint pain beginning to nag at him, his head aching. "if you want to talk about speaking formally, you should refer to reeves. 'hat boy speaks in riddles or something, such nonsense coming out of that self righteous mouth of his"

"what's the point in trying to get a message across when no one can understand you? no point at all 'hat's for sure. if you say anything about it though he'll probably retort back by saying how a simpleton such as yourself couldn't even begin to understand words of such superiority and grace. he makes me want to vomit." he let out a shaky breath, wiping off the excess blood that had now dried from his bruised and battered nose. his expression remained unbothered, although tension played at some of his features

"reeves thinks he'll make such a big impact in society. i just think reality has yet to hit him in the face, to knock him down a few pegs from 'hat pedestal he puts himself on. when that happens he's going to fall right into the loony bin, into 'he mental asylum where he belongs"

"there's something wrong with him, im sure of it. not just his ugly face, but internally as well. isn't it ironic? he's so closely affiliated with damon, who's the medic of the island, and yet no matter what, i bet that he could never fix reeves even if he tried!" if this were anyone else, perhaps there would be a little humor woven into that otherwise crude statement to lighten the connotations. but, everette was not just anyone else, of course he wasn't. the boy only grimaced, looking off to the side. he meant what he said.

"or take ripley for instance. he tends to articulate his 'houghts in such poetic verses. he did tell me he got full marks in writing back in school before we ended up here, so maybe that has something to do with it. every word of his is akin to the bindings of a book. strung together for one reason or another, it’s beyond me, really. can barely tell what’s going on in that head of his, i’d think it would be rather difficult to think with constant buzzing going on. if he even does think for himself anymore”

“there were days i wished he would just go quiet. no matter how lyrical and appealing his words may seem, when they are constantly following you around like some never ending allegory, 'hen it would end up driving you to your wits end sooner or later. but, i will say with indifference that my past desire has partly come true now. he speaks less than he used to, he mutters more than he actually talks. however, it’s all still very flowery. it’s much like 'he flowers he used to gift me. though, i'm sure flowers wilt in his path nowadays. the byproduct of his chosen lineage, i suppose"

his voice evened out at the last words, falling into silence. the waves fell high and low, and the wind blew past, it all served as white noise that then only emphasized how uncharacteristically still everette stood. he even looked, uncomfortable for a moment. the boy shook his head, crossing his arms.

"either way, i do not know their reasons, and I don’t care to give you mine in full. all you need to know is that if my father bids me to speak this way, then I will listen. he said that the way you speak is indicative of the boy you are, if not the man you will find yourself growing to be in the future. if you have a proper grasp on your words, then you may as well have the world in the palm of your hand. at the very least, that is what i remember him saying. I cannot recall his exact words anymore. i used to be able to. but, it has been a while since I last spoke to him, even before we got here"

everette's expression only faltered into more discomfort, his shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths. whether they were meant to compose himself, or they were from losing his composure, it was unclear. he gripped onto the skin of his arms, almost absentmindedly like he didn't mean to do so. they looked quite different from before. the flesh was once so pristine, free of impurity. but now? they were covered in shallow scars. nicks, scratches, cuts alike.

he eyed nicholas again, the dirty look just barely offsetting the evident ache that was painted over the rest of him "but tell me, nicholas. when we got here, what did you 'hink was going to happen after a while? of course arguments were bound to stir up, of course disagreements and disputes were going to happen. and they will continue to do so. sure, perhaps for a little while at the start this place was some garden of eden to some of you. trees full of fruit, pristine waters, no adults to sully a good time"

"but then you take into account the selection of people here, and you realize something. 'hings were going to fall apart one way or another. whether that be between people our age, those who are older than us who should really know better, or even the littluns as 'hey kick sand into each other's eyes” his nails dug into his skin, but he continued to look nicholas dead in the eye. it was almost like he didn't notice the way it hurt, like he didn't mean to, he just did. and god knows why he did.

“we are in the middle of a war. we are stranded on a damned island with perhaps our only chance of salvation having already slipped from our fingers. do you think it matters to me who sees anymore? do you think i care about how it affects the others around when they overhear? I could care less about what they think! I don't— I don't care about how they perceive me, if that's what you think! I know i'm better 'han all of you, everyone else just has yet to get it through their numb skulls. i'll be revered as I was meant to be. I will"

"if they were truly scared, how about they just pry their eyes away and run off to some place where they don’t have to come across such sights? but no! you all still watch, don’t you?” as he spoke, his nails only dug deeper, threatening to draw blood. it was as if he was trying to claw and reach the sacrilegious nature of his soul. as if he was trying to pull out the hatred that ran deep in his veins, even if that meant hurting his body that was only so human.

“at least something comes out of it 'hough, right? according to you, all these quarrels and fights, they all piece together to craft a very original stage play for your very own personal viewing. entertainment, is that what you saw in it? find it pretty funny seeing me get my face beaten, didn't you, nicholas?"

"go off and find some more of it then if you find it so amusing. there’s plenty to go around here. maybe you can catch that god-awful merridew and ralph bickering with one another again. or here's some food for 'hought. perhaps you can even star in some little drama of your own. though, you aren't exactly star material. but, 'here are some exceptions. you would fit perfectly in a tragedy, you know? i would just adore seeing you die at the end. i'd go so far as to say that would be a picture perfect film" he scoffed, his gaze finally settling beyond the distant shore. he slowly uncrossed his arms, rubbing at them a bit. it was as if he thought he could wipe off the blemishes. how silly. don't you agree?

"now sod off, leave me alone. will you at the very least give me that much peace?" his voice cracked at the end. the tone of it still held an undeniable harshness, but if one were to listen closely, exhaustion had begun to lace itself at the ends. he brushed the tangles of his hair out at the bottoms, the curls at the edges barely maintained. he sighed, lowering himself down, sitting on the sand. the ocean waters came up, the seafoam nearly grazing him.

he thought that would be it, that nicholas would leave him alone. he would walk away, either being nice enough to give everette the loneliness that he wanted, or simply just being deterred enough from anything further. perhaps everette would even overhear a word or two dripping with newfound contempt slipping from the other's mouth as he did so. it was inevitable, it's what should have happened. but, that's not what the outcome ended up being.

the shadow that once loomed over him had gone away, only to be replaced with the very same presence, only now sitting beside him. patience is a heavenly virtue, and everette was far from the angel he claimed to be. the little patience he had was being held together by a singular thin thread, hung over his head. that thread had been cut clean as soon as nicholas began to speak once more, everette's restraint burning up more and more at each question that only acted as fuel to the flames in his lungs.

he turned to nicholas sharply, flinching backwards and away from him. his temper had come to a boil, his nerves ill at ease. the water that now washed up to his palms did nothing to cool the heat on his skin. he should have just got up and left, he didn't owe nicholas an answer. but, it was as if the words got ripped out from his throat, the defensive vices spilling from his lips like uncontrollable bile.

“why is it so hard to understand that i don't want you near me? keep me out of your filthy mouth, will you? i'm not hostile, nor do i lash out, but if you're making me out to be 'hat way then perhaps you are deserving to be on the receiving end of it! i’m just being honest, and it is not my fault that other people cannot handle the truth. if 'hey are going to take it so horribly, then so be it! i would gladly take isolation and have that familiar forsaken loneliness to plague me, over constantly surrounding myself with people who don't deserve to breathe the same air as me!"

"it is not my fault either 'hat i am simply just a cut above the rest of you. i have no need to make myself feel that way, what purpose would that serve? it would be absolutely redundant when i know i already am a step above all of you. and— and i am! i'm like this because— because" suddenly, his voice that had once been so loud and aggressive, fell into a hush. his eyes once so full of blatant frustration, went blank.

everette struggled to find his words, and for once, he stumbled over them. he stuttered and mumbled underneath his breath, incoherent muddled phrases leaving his lips, barely audible over the tides crashing into one another. he tried to form an explanation, even fabricate one if he had to. but, he couldn't. at least, none that he could admit to the other boy that he now looked away from, and more less himself.

he looked down at the sand, hugging his knees close to his chest. he felt awfully small, he was feeling like that a lot lately. his words came out worn and uneasy, quieter and more unsure than he had ever been before. “i don’t— I don't know, okay? why are you prying? are you trying to get something out of me so you can use it against me? spread it around to everyone else here who hates me? i've given them good reason to, you know”

everette was always faced with questions, and if not, then general interactions were constantly being offered instead. in turn, they were always met with varying, long winding responses. however, there was always one continuity. everette always insulted, berated, mocked or scorned. no one was excused from it because to him, everyone had something he could tear apart before stepping on the remains that resided beneath his shoe. in that awful sense, perhaps he did treat everyone with some form of equality.

the way he acted was a means to bring him safety, it acted as his security, even if it ended up warping his fate. so, what was he to do when it came to this? when someone did not approach him with curious naivety or the same vile scrutiny that he was so familiar with, but instead— genuine humanity? he was so confused, disorientated even. how was he supposed to act?

"I don't know— I don't. what do you want me to do? what can i do? i'm not like you, nicholas. i was born to be better, I was raised to be better, i'm supposed to be better. and thus i know that at the end of the day, the niceties that you preach will all be futile. this situation will either end with us dead, or alive long enough to make it off of here. and when that day comes, you all won't have to see me ever again. it’s going to end someday, one way or another. I don’t care about the means, as long as I get to the end. as long as I get to see her again"

"or maybe, do you want me to change? I can't, nicholas. i will always be my father’s son. bound by blood and yet not by heart nor soul" everette felt droplets of water hit the scraped skin of his knees. tear droplets. the tears trickled down his eyes in steady streams, warm against his skin, though the warmth brought no comfort. he hadn't even noticed, he couldn't even gauge when he first started to cry. but, there was no use in wiping them away anymore.

"I don't know why i'm saying all of this. against my better judgement i'm admitting all of this. 'hough, what I do know is that it's not to make you feel bad for me, if that's what you're assuming. i'm above that. i've above the pity you give out as some form of benevolent charity. I don't want nor need it, i'm not here to garner sympathy."

"i just— i think a part of me believes that if i don't take your little folly attempt to understand as my opportunity to, for once be vulnerable. then, perhaps one day, one of you would come across my bleeding body. all of the sins of human kind i’ve swallowed bleeding right out of my deceased being, instead of the confessions i am making right now as i sit here, still alive. telling them to you out of all people. i never would have thought. god, what do I make of myself anymore? what am I doing?"

he let a shaky breath in and out, tilting his head to look at nicholas— and for once, he didn't look like some amalgamation of corrupted verses from the testaments. everette looked like a child. a child who only knew how to hate for he never was loved enough. “truthfully, i just miss someone, nicholas. and, im sure you got a family who misses you. so does johnny, i assume. in that way, perhaps we are vaguely connected"

"but with how you are, and with who i am, i doubt friendship could ever come to fruition. I don't want to be friends. we're strangers, not equals, nor friends, who are only tied together by our situation as you mentioned yourself. but, if you mean it. we can talk here by the beach more. skip rocks, or what not? it'll be boring, but i think i would take boring over everything else that's going on right about now” his words were awkward, his voice foreign to even himself, but he was trying.

“that's my offer, since i turned down yours” and for once, something seemed to shift. not the tides, nor the wind, nor the boys' and their circumstance. but maybe, for once, something within everette did.

— everette ainsworth 🪽 nicholas @conchcorner

& johnny @conchcorner mentioned

mention @ask-abel-lotf

mention @white-wysteria

mention @bubos-apothecary

mention @henrys-eulogy-aflame

[henrys-eulogy-aflame]

Henry.

[A voice slowly whispered into his ears. A familiar one.]

My son.

[It started forming. Not as a physical form. But as a thought. A concept in the back of any child's head. It took over simply to talk.]

We have a plan for you, my child. Do not worry, we will get you back together. We know you long to come back to what you used to be.. Remember, child. Remember what we said—

The benefits will outweigh the consequences.

Now, hear what we will have to say. We will need your.. assistance.

„I won’t hear you. Not after who you’ve made me become.„

his arms and legs crawl with flies, and he doesn’t even look to the figure before him.

„you think I wanted to be this? This… monster? I don’t care how many plans for me you have. Half the time i see myself, i’m a corpse. I’m already past the grave. I don’t want that.

Its one thing to want to be dead; who wouldn’t be? On this island where hardly anything is good or holy? But to live half my time as a bleeding, rotting corpse, my monstrosity fleeing from my fingertips, yet ravaging my mind?

you claimed to have good intentions for me. Your son. You say the benefits will outweigh the consequences. But I don’t believe you. No, I don’t want to help you, Father.”

[henrys-eulogy-aflame]

… a corpse, you say?

tw for blood, injury, gore, self-harm

thats what they call me. a corpse. rotting, covered in disgusting flies, eating away at me. eating away at my soul. i didn’t believe them. i’m no corpse, no dead boy. i just made… a mistake. a terrifying mistake. i gave up myself to a creature that took ownership of me, he ravaged my very being. who am i? the insectine horror that i saw as a father has destroyed Henry Ripley, and left behind a deteriorating shell.

when i saw myself in the reflection of a puddle formed by days of rain, all i could see was the corpse the other children speak of. though the sun had tanned my skin, it betrayed a pallor of one malnourished and dying. my lips could not move, no, they leaked blood, blood in a steady stream down my body! my face torn open at the jaw, showing bloodstained bone. in and upon the wreckage of my being, there were the flies. hundreds, lying within me. spreading blood and pus as they crawled down my neck. their incessant warning buzz fills my ears once again. i cannot feel my face any longer, matted hair falls beneath my eyes as the insects swarm into my wounds—

i grasp at my face, pulling away from the water. nothing. skin only scratched slightly, lips able to open and pant and gasp for air. i crawl back, legs too weak from what i’ve seen. the flies still touch me, still crawling up the skin that is—for now—unmarred and whole. hands holding my own face, i could swear i felt the repugnant feeling of blood between my fingers, pouring from my face, but when i hold them up to my eyes, they are clean save for dirt.

i live and breathe fear. scrambling into the forest, far from the reach of my own monstrous being. the thorns and twigs scrape at my skin but i do not care. anything to get far away from the cursed mirror that showed me a corpse, not a boy. curled upon rocks and leaves in the forest, i cannot catch my breath, nails digging into the palms of my hands. the more i gasp, the more panic i feel. urging myself to snap out of it, I scratch at my own wrists, arms and chest with the sharp twigs that lay beneath me. nothing works, nothing makes me feel whole. like myself.

where is everette? oh, sure he will come back soon. come back and find an empty clearing, where i’ve run from water of all things. i can’t bring myself to go back. with my actual blood smearing over my skin, i curl up and weep for the loss of myself. my humanity.“who am i?”

who have i become? can I ever be henry again? that young, naive little boy, who’s only worrying about making friends? or even the version of me that killed for sport, that hunted, and screamed and cried all on my own? free from the fly man’s clutches.

that night, it rains again. upon awakening, the first thing i see is my face reflected in the surrounding water. a bleeding, destroyed face, swarming with the agents of my father. a sunken face that looks past the grave. disgusting flies crawling in and out of my self-inflicted wounds.

(mentioned: @we-are-richard-lotf, @everettes-requiem)

[henrys-eulogy-aflame]

"I quite like how you speak, poet. Lord Byron does not find his soul in many men. You have a rather quality gift to be able to communicate in such ways. God would be lucky to find an angel like you amongst the wreckage of the island, would he not?

Or perhaps Richard enjoys the tongues in which you speak, as it allows him to have his way with you. Either way, I suppose that your poetry is enjoyable. One of the only tolerable voices on this island. You are one of the only tolerable people, at that. A nice change from everyone... else.

Continue to speak the ways you do, Henry. Maybe if you start reciting words backwards, Wilbur will gift you with the most pleasant fruits from his voyages across the island. It doesn't have to be right, just impressive. I'm positive you can manage."

-Jude 🌾

“Reeves? What are you doing here?”

He looks up from picking flowers, pink ones with a slight droop to them. Standing, he brushes a few of Richard’s flies from his arms like stray dust.

“My… speech? Why, you flatter me… though it is odd how you do so. I wasn’t under the impression that you were capable of such flattery. Perhaps this island changes people than we know.”

He brushes matted, dark hair out of his face, and steps closer to Jude, looking down at him.

“A poet, you call me? Yes, quite a suitable word. They die young, you know. Poets.”

Laughing slightly, he turns his back to the boy.

“Though your flattery is not unwelcome, I find it… much too intimate coming from one whom I do not often speak to. I bid you never speak in such an amorous tone with me again, whether you meant it or not.”

[henrys-eulogy-aflame]

Wow!!! Anyway

On ALL the main tags too! Does this scare you anon does this make you mad oooo creativity and people doing normal fandom activities so so so scary bro

[henrys-eulogy-aflame]

"Why do you speak like that. We're not in lecture halls, for once, you can drop the formalities. Or are you an aspiring flimsy poet? Seems you have many a number of poetic thoughts for that blond choir boy."

- 🔪 ( @finscadetkids )

“why, whats wrong with how i speak? no one has ever paid it any mind in the past!! besides, it keeps me sane, the poetry. if i focus on the craft in my words, perhaps it will take my mind of of our.. situation— and what, may i ask, is the matter with being poetic???”

“besides… everette does like it sometimes…”

[henrys-eulogy-aflame]

the lamb like boy ran, unsure of what he was running from anymore

he fell to the ground, the gritty sand scratching against his skin. the sound of the shore brought him back

he panted, air scarce in his sacred lungs. blood dripped from his nose

“i will not let the devil take me” he muttered, over and over, like some kind of prayer

“i’d rather die by my own hands”

everette is open for questions again, ask him anything 𓆝

[henrys-eulogy-aflame]

"Hi Henry, we haven't talked in a while. I guess I've been somewhat preoccupied.. Im- I'm sorry I haven't talked to you recently.

How has the island been treating you, how are things between- between you and Everette?

I- I want to stop by more if you don't mind."

( @the-kitt-records )

“oh! kitt… why, yes. we haven’t spoken for a while. perhaps that was for the better, giving me time to clear my… buzzing head. it is good to see you, friend. and for once I have good news about everette. he has shown his dear face to me once more. i am scared it won’t last for long, however i bask in the momentary respite.

he doesn’t like ev very much, but he’ll tolerate him for my sake. i wouldn’t mind if you stopped by often. you presence has been… missed.”

(@everettes-requiem @we-are-richard-lotf)

[henrys-eulogy-aflame]

“ripley? ripley, there you are, i’ve been looking for you” his words paralleled that day where things went awry, but his tone was vastly different.

he still looked at henry as if he were some inferior being, and there was still a vague taste of bitterness on his tongue, but overall— he was quieter than usual. less openly abrasive, more silently judgemental, as if he were trying to push down his previous wrongdoings and make some sort of amends. though, he was still the same ainsworth, there was an unlikely such amends would be executed well

“there is something out there.” that came as a shock, ainsworth was never one to believe in such things. in fact, he mainly ridiculed those who were afraid because of that idea

“i ‘hought the littluns were being childish, as kids are, to think there was a beast. then when the notion began to plague this damned island, i thought the other kids our age were addled and completely daft, more ‘han they usually are, for giving into that fear. at the prospect of something from mere imagination, no less”

he spoke with little pauses, as if he were still running away from whatever he claimed to be out there. he only caught his breath for a little at the end, closing his eyes as if he were trying to regain the focus and energy to actually speak again. no one has seen him this out of place. he was usually so put together, but today he just seemed, strung together. and evidently, those strings were not keeping him together.

“my opinion— no, that very fact has not been wavered. they have lost their heads, but i have not” he spoke with an uncomfortable and ridged tone, as if he were trying to make himself believe that

“i know what i saw, and i know what i heard, and i will in fact lose my own mind, truly, if you even think of directing me towards damon for this! i am not wrong about things! this is not a medical issue, it’s a true one and quite frankly, one that is a very real detriment to all of us”

“honestly? i could care less if it were to massacre all of them, good riddance. but if it’s come directly to me? then there is no doubt i will end up being one of ‘hose bodies in the mass.”

“it was the devil. or at least, something closely tied to it, im sure of it. god knows why it came to me, speaking those terrible vices about me. maybe— maybe that’s its first step, trying to rid the island of its only angel”

he hugged himself, the sight offered a new look to him, even if his words began to sound all the same to how he usually was. the way he held himself currently spoke of lesser vanity, and more insecurity. the nearby foilage rustled with the wind, the waves of the ocean crashed into one another, the white noise serving as comfort as ainsworth’s silence began to cause discomfort. everette breathed out

“but that is not my point, at least not my main one. look here, ripley. whatever happened between us, i do not care. ‘hat doesn’t hold any value. it was one dispute out of the many that happen on this island. it was one argument that was inherently caused by that good for nothing snake. but, it will not be a catalyst. such words spoken were said in the moment, and do not matter in the now”

“what does hold value however is that i know you, and by extension, you— understand me. i know you don’t entirely hate me, ripley, that the resentment isn’t enough for you to push me away. you know that my hatred runs deep, but it isn’t all of me”

everette grabbed onto his forearms, looking up at him. suddenly, things began to still. as if it were just the two of them in this wretched world that had wronged them. both by putting them together, and keeping them apart

“so please. don’t leave me. don’t hate me like the rest of those ignorant cowards do”

— @everettes-requiem 🪽

”you know i could never hate you, everette.”

a few flies buzz around his head, their eyes seemingly staring straight into everette’s soul.

“but what you said wasn’t just alexander’s doing. it was your own as well. and i will shelter you, but only if you acknowledge that.”

placing his hand upon everette’s cheek, a few of the insects crawl up his fingers onto the other boy’s porcelain face.

“there is something out there, ev. i know him. i’ll make sure he doesn’t hurt you.”

a pause too silent, as the flies move but don’t buzz.

”i don’t know what fate had you changing your mind about me, if fate exists at all, but I thank you. it will be easier now, this tortured existence. that thing out there? him and us are all that is left.”

he lets go of everette, turning his back to him as his gaze pierces the density of the forest.

“God is dead, everette. we are what remains.”

[henrys-eulogy-aflame]

Time for my birdwatchers HS AU headcannon that one of the projects for the photography club was to take 10 pictures of somthing that interests you, so Kitt asked Raven if he could photograph him.

And when everyone turns in their portfolio Henry and Kitt lock eyes bc Henry did the exact same thing with pictures of Everett. And Ernst is just standing there, the only one who didn't take pictures of men.

( oc's mentioned @raven-at-sea @henrys-eulogy-aflame @everettes-requiem and @here-lies-ernst )

[henrys-eulogy-aflame]

Hi henry

Do you fw strawberry shortcakes we can sprinkle some flies on top of them if you want

hell yeah 🤤🤤🤤🤤

yk those colors remind me of my favorite white boy🥹 i miss him