#⠀⠀⠀⟨ 🍒 ⟩ 𝒕𝒚𝒃𝒂𝒍𝒕 . ┊ script .

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ostcntatious‌

𝖙𝖜: 𝖛𝖎𝖔𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊 , 𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 , 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍 , 𝖆𝖇𝖚𝖘𝖊

          𝐇𝐄𝐑  𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘  𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐊  everything  away  from  her  .  they  stripped  a  child  of  her  innocence  first  ,  thrown  to  the  wolves  to  learn  what  it  is  like  to  hurt  alone  .  every  family  home  they  moved  to  was  cold  ,  empty  ,  and  ophelia  was  always  left  to  her  own  devices  ––  staff  overseeing  her  studies  ,  her  education  .  every  year  a  new  tutor  .  a  new  language  coach  .  new  maids  ,  new  classmates  .  and  her  ,  the  only  constant  ,  drifting  past  faces  that  blur  together  in  their  irrelevance  and  unimportance  .  ophelia  was  taught  that  the  world  was  a  cruel  place  before  she  ever  had  a  chance  to  see  it  in  shades  of  pink  .  they  took  a  young  girl’s  softness  when  they  told  her  it  was  the  same  as  weakness  .  father  ,  with  the  harsh  edges  that  draw  blood  from  the  brother  that  met  his  wrath  .  mother  ,  indifferent  ,  blind  ,  one  of  the  many  faces  that  ophelia  learned  to  forget  .  they  took  away  love  before  they  ever  gave  it  to  her  ,  and  ophelia  always  knew  better  than  to  ask  for  anything  that  a  credit  card  couldn’t  buy  .  clever  girl  ,  her  family  took  away  everything  that  made  her  whole  until  only  jagged  fragments  remained  ,  and  she  accepted  it  like  a  gift  .  because  the  same  hands  that  stripped  kindness  away  were  the  ones  she  praised  as  divine  .  the  same  person  who  took  away  her  innocence  and  her  kindness  and  anything  that  could  have  ever  made  ophelia  song  good  ,  was  the  man  whose  name  she  spoke  with  reverence  ,  like  it  was  holy  .  ophelia  could  never  curse  the  titan’s  name  ,  not  when  one  hand  held  destruction  and  the  other  ,  behind  his  back  ,  carried  the  promise  of  glory  ––  even  if  it  wasn’t  for  her  to  receive  .

          𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋  ,  𝐒𝐇𝐄  𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐃  onto  the  foolish  idea  of  one  day  being  worthy  like  a  small  girl  holding  onto  a  mother’s  hand  as  she’s  led  through  this  maze  of  a  world  .  victory’s  hand  is  golden  in  her  own  ,  as  it  pulls  her  forward  and  tells  her  not  to  be  afraid  .  not  even  when  every  step  dislodges  a  stone  in  someone  else’s  path  ,  not  when  there’s  nothing  but  ruin  left  behind  ––  not  when  her  mind  is  filled  with  illusions  ,  and  in  the  distance  ,  something  sparks  golden  .  power  ,  she’s  told  .  illusion  ,  comes  the  harsh  reality  ––  light  flickers  out  the  moment  her  ring  leaves  her  finger  ,  and  ophelia  dares  to  let  a  terrifying  conclusion  enter  her  mind  ––  it’s  all  for  nothing  .  everything  she  has  done  ,  the  person  she  has  become  ,  all  the  destruction  she  has  caused  …  meaningless  .  there’s  a  moment  of  silence  ,  one  second  in  which  ophelia  closes  her  eyes  and  lets  the  ocean  swallow  her  completely  .  she  is  icarus  ,  and  she  has  fallen  .  waves  throw  her  under  ,  tossing  her  body  around  until  there  is  no  air  ,  no  sound  ,  no  purpose  ––  how  does  she  accept  that  failure  has  always  been  inevitable  ?  her  family  took  everything  away  from  her  ––  innocence  ,  company  ,  softness  ,  kindness  .  love  .  power  .  they  took  it  all  ,  and  let  her  drown  in  baseless  hope  .  both  song  siblings  dripping  ichor  ––  one  ,  from  wounds  inflicted  by  a  titan  .  the  other  ,  tearing  herself  apart  in  sacrifice  .  if  they  have  anything  in  common  ,  it  is  that  they  are  both  fallen  gods  .  they  both  bleed  gold  ,  reflected  on  cracked  mirrors  as  twisted  reflections  stare  back  at  them  and  ask  them  why  they  are  broken  .  it  was  too  much  ,  she  envisions  tybalt  admitting  .  i  was  broken  from  the  start  ,  ophelia  cries  .

          𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒  𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐒  down  onto  the  surface  of  the  table  ,  and  the  alcohol  that  spills  over  its  edge  feels  so  much  like  a  symbol  .  with  a  ring  placed  on  the  table  ,  ophelia  felt  her  own  body  slam  onto  a  cold  ,  unforgiving  ocean  that  stole  the  air  from  her  lungs  ––  and  saltwater  spills  from  eyes  ,  and  ophelia  is  falling  ,  drowning  ,  as  emotion  spills  from  her  after  being  contained  from  so  long  .  the  song  siblings  are  tired  ,  so  tired  .  and  as  a  hand  covers  tybalt’s  face  ,  it’s  painful  reminder  that  he  has  been  trained  to  turn  away  from  her  .  he  covers  his  face  ,  like  the  titan  whose  eyes  never  met  her  own  ––  their  faces  are  veiled  ,  kept  hidden  from  the  unworthy  .  she  has  never  been  enough  for  either  of  them  ––  her  family  took  everything  away  from  her  .  they  took  away  her  worth  ,  and  left  her  discarded  in  empty  rooms  to  piece  herself  together  .  oh  ,  how  ophelia  looked  at  herself  once  ––  she  told  herself  she  was  worthy  until  it  felt  not  like  a  prayer  but  a  confession  ,  an  ode  to  herself  that  she  sung  alone  ,  and  it  was  enough  because  her  voice  was  the  most  powerful  of  all .  ophelia  dared  to  defy  the  titan  that  only  ever  revealed  himself  to  her  when  it  was  to  look  upon  the  offering  she  had  placed  on  his  altar  ––  herself  ,  torn  apart  and  put  back  together  in  his  image  ,  shattered  and  mended  over  and  over  ,  telling  her  father  she  bleeds  ichor  just  like  him  ––  and  call  it  unworthy  .

          𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐕𝐄𝐈𝐋  𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐒  ,  torn  down  by  the  only  one  who  could  reach  it  .  tybalt  raises  his  head  to  her  and  ophelia  sees  someone  who  is  far  more  broken  than  she  is  .  ophelia  is  destruction  ,  but  the  ruin  she  brings  is  calculated  ––  tybalt  is  chaos  ,  pushed  beyond  his  breaking  point  .  ophelia  envied  his  crown  for  so  long  ,  that  all  she  saw  was  gold  kept  out  of  her  reach  .  but  tybalt’s  crown  had  always  been  one  of  thorns  .  a  titan’s  son  ,  the  title  was  never  a  gift  but  a  curse  imposed  on  him  ––  ophelia  was  doomed  to  fail  but  tybalt  was  doomed  to  suffer  through  his  gilded  path  towards  the  glory  he  never  dreamed  of  .  his  path  to  victory  was  lined  with  agony  ,  and  where  ophelia  left  ruin  behind  her  ,  tybalt  left  bloodstains  .  ophelia  had  been  blind  for  so  long  ,  clinging  onto  a  version  of  the  titan  where  he  allowed  her  onto  the  throne  she  craved  ––  one  where  her  own  worth  ,  the  hard  work  ,  the  destruction  offered  by  greedy  ,  envious  hands  was  enough  .  but  the  crown  was  heavy  and  the  throne  was  a  prison  .  he  never  had  a  choice  .  ophelia’s  tears  stopped  flowing  long  ago  ,  weakness  left  behind  and  replaced  with  stunned  silence  .  her  father’s  cruelty  exceeded  what  she  imagined  ––  the  man  was  no  god  after  all  .  he  was  demonic  .  heartless  ,  ruthless  .  this  is  what  ophelia  had  craved  for  so  many  years  .  all  the  ruin  left  behind  her  ,  until  she  is  not  girl  but  titan  herself  ––  and  she  would  have  been  proud  ,  while  destruction  consumed  her  completely  and  turned  her  into  someone  who  would  see  a  child  and  take  everything  from  them  until  nothing  remained  but  chaos  .  tybalt  was  always  left  broken  and  bloody  and  ophelia  would  have  envied  him  because  her  father  would  have  called  his  blood  ichor  .  she  was  blind  ––  her  family  took  everything  from  her  .  they  took  away  her  brother  ,  and  they  broke  him  .  

         𝐒𝐇𝐄  𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃  𝐇𝐈𝐌  ,  and  they  let  her  .  siblings  pried  apart  from  birth  ,  doomed  to  drown  in  pain  from  opposite  corners  of  the  throne  room  .  each  of  them  tricked  into  believing  that  the  other  was  the  blessed  one  when  a  cruel  titan  had  cursed  them  both  in  his  own  way  .  their  father  planted  the  seed  of  destruction  in  both  of  them  and  watched  ,  indifferent  ,  as  his  children  tore  themselves  and  each  other  to  shreds  .  ‘  i  …  ’  god  ,  how  ophelia  wants  to  fight  him  .  instinct  tells  her  to  do  as  she  does  and  destroy  .  conquer  .  take  the  throne  for  herself  at  last  ,  because  his  suffering  paved  the  road  already  ––  it  is  golden  ,  and  it  is  bloody  ,  and  at  last  it  is  hers  for  the  taking  .  but  ,  with  the  titan’s  true  face  revealed  by  the  brother  she  calls  sinner  ––  whose  words  feel  like  blasphemy  to  the  ears  of  the  god’s  loyal  follower  ,  but  she  knows  there  is  truth  in  them  ,  and  ophelia  at  last  realizes  that  tybalt  is  no  sinner  but  martyr  and  she  is  not  devoted  follower  but  zealot  ––  ophelia  feels  disgusted  by  herself  .  the  titan  taught  her  betrayal  and  she  embraced  the  lesson  with  open  arms  for  too  long  .  even  with  her  own  back  mostly  turned  away  from  the  legacy  she  claims  to  reject  ,  even  with  song  black  burned  away  from  her  hair  until  ophelia  wears  a  crown  of  platinum  blonde  ,  ophelia  has  always  let  the  ghost  of  her  father  haunt  her  .  hesitant  to  sever  ties  when  they  could  lead  to  a  throne  ––  foolish  girl  ,  the  dynasty  was  never  hers  for  the  taking  .  it  is  poisonous  ,  and  it  would  ruin  her  completely  like  it  already  has  with  tybalt  .  she  is  strong  ,  but  she  is  still  human  ––  her  own  strength  and  resilience  would  never  be  enough  when  going  up  against  a  man  that  is  darkness  personified  ,  the  greatest  expression  of  cruelty  ,  his  ruthlessness knows  no  bounds  –– and  he’s  always  seen  ophelia  as  lesser  ,  so  what  is  there  to  make  him  hold  back  ?

          𝐒𝐇𝐄  𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒  𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇  tybalt  ,  her  legs  as  shaky  as  his  ––  and  he  is  taller  ,  and  it’s  a  stark  reminder  of  the  fact  that  she  has  always  looked  up  to  her  brother  even  when  his  features  have  been  coated  in  repulsion  at  her  and  everything  she  has  been  striving  for  .  now  ,  the  brother  she  has  hated  and  refused  for  so  long  is  broken  ,  and  his  blood  drips  crimson  rather  than  golden  .  just  tired  children  ,  neither  of  them  has  ever  bled  ichor  .  ’  i  couldn’t  stand  the  idea  of  being  a  failure  ,  ’  she  admits  ––  and  unlike  tybalt  ,  her  words  aren’t  the  cry  of  someone  who  has  lost  everything  .  no  ,  they  are  slow  and  deliberate  ––  maybe  she’s  more  of  a  song  than  she  knows  ,  because  as  she  speaks  ,  ophelia  is  the  spitting  image  of  the  calculating  man  who  taught  them  both  about  the  power  that  words  can  have  by  using  them  as  weapons  against  them  .  he  used  more  than  just  words  with  tybalt  .  whatever  it  takes  for  glory  ,  ophelia  would  tell  herself  like  a  hymn  .  if  only  she  had  known  that  it  was  an  echo  of  her  father’s  words  ––  he  always  did  whatever  it  took  to  break  them  .  except  ,  ophelia  is  being  honest  .  she  lets  herself  hurt  for  him  ,  though  she  doesn’t  look  at  him  with  pity  ––  ophelia’s  wrath  is  a  powerful  thing  ,  and  it  still  lingers  enough  to  make  her  resent  tybalt  .  as  much  as  she  does  ,  he  did  not  deserve  this  .  nobody  does  .  there  is  a  semblance  of  humanity  within  her  ––  and  maybe  she  is  not  as  much  of  a  song  as  he  believes  ,  because  ophelia  understands  .  her  own  pain  is  valid  ––  but  so  is  his  .  ’  i  could  not  prove  him  right  by  walking  away  and  admitting  that  i  will  never  be  good  enough  .  you  know  me  ,  you  know  i  could  never let  anyone  think  of  me  as  a  failure  ––  the  choice  was  made  for  me  ,  ’  ophelia  admits  ,  and  as  her  words  spill  out  ,  they  come  faster  and  filled  with  emotion  .  only  one  of  us  would  choose  to  be  tortured  ,  tybalt  says  ,  and  the  most  horrifying  thing  is  that  maybe  ,  before  tonight  ,  he  would  have  been  right  .  ophelia  would  have  done  anything  if  it  meant  being  welcomed  into  the  titan’s  ranks  .  being  acknowledged  as  a  god  ,  like  her  father  .  she  is  so  much  like  him  ,  and  for  the  first  time  ,  ophelia  isn’t  proud  but  disgusted  as  she  sees  tybalt  ––  the  brother  taken  from  her  ,  made  into  her  enemy  .  broken  ,  hurt  ,  ruined  .  the  person  who  has  destroyed  her  so  many  times  like  it  was  a  game  ––  but  he  is  her  brother  .  siblings  shouldn’t  fight  ––  it  is  so  hard  when  fighting  is  all  they  have  ever  known  .  but  ophelia  looks  at  her  brother  and  acknowledges  the  horrors  she  averted  her  gaze  from  for  years  because  he  was  always  monster  instead  of  human  .  her  words  come  out  hushed  ,  a  confession  ,  as  ophelia  song  turns  away  from  her  own  pain  and  towards  tybalt  ,  as  she  puts  herself  aside  for  his  sake  .  tybalt  is  her  brother  ––  and  she  has  wanted  to  destroy  him  for  too  long  ,  as  a  titan’s  grasp  on  her  every  move  finally  ends  .

          ’  𝐈'𝐌  𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐘  .  ’

trigger  warning  :  blood  ,  injury  .

           the   sinister   curve   of   a   smile   ingrained   into   his   memory   ,   branded   behind   his   eyelids   .   everyone   in   his   family   is   a   holder   of   the   eldritch   grin   ,   an   emotion   supposed   to   convey   happiness   &   pride   ;   twisted   horribly   until   it’s   a   skewed   version   of   threat   .   no   song   smiles   because   of   glee   ,   smiles   are   weapons   –   as   lethal   as   their   words   ,   as   baneful   as   the   power   emanated   from   their   fingertips   .   it’s   the   cover   that   marks   his   mother’s   face   when   he   exits   with   white   eyes   stained   with   crimson   ,   when   she   holds   his   hand   while   his   shoulder   is   set   .   a   sinister   smile   ,   marked   as   caring   ,   disguised   as   empathetic   while   a   hand   runs   through   his   hair   .   ❛   ah   ,   chin   hwa   –   ❜   tybalt   stares   at   ophelia   &   hears   their   mother   .   ❛   he   loves   you   ,   remember   that   the   powerful   show   love   in   wrath   .   ❜   bullshit   .   she   evades   his   wrath   ,   ophelia   evades   his   wrath   .   for   being   born   women   ,   for   keeping   their   heads   down   they   escape   steel   knuckles   &   the   sharpest   insults   they’ll   never   get   to   hear   .   mother   is   satisfied   with   golden   dresses   ,   ophelia   longs   to   imitate   a   cruel   king   ;   she’s   succeeded   ,   tearing   him   down   ,   making   sure   nobody   in   her   path   survives   without   a   still   -   beating   sacrifice   .   tybalt   is   cursed   by   his   parents   ,   he’s   spent   so   long   with   cowardice   ,   shaking   underneath   their   unforgiving   glares   that   he   sees   them   in   everyone   .   their   father   ,   written   in   yousef’s   anger   ,   etched   in   ophelia’s   fingerprints   .   their   mother   in   anyone   who   dares   to   utter   a   lie   to   him   ,   in   everyone   who   turns   away   from   his   gaze   ,   fearful   to   admit   the   truth   .

           so   he   wants   to   accept   her   apology   ,   he   wants   to   bridge   the   gap   ,   embrace   her   in   a   hug   he   knows   she   won’t   accept   .   but   every   instinct   is   telling   him   to   back   away   ,   to   run   from   the   fire   ,   fly   away   from   home   ;   he   can’t   trust   her   .   she’s   more   of   both   of   their   parents   than   he   is   –   he   can   see   it   now   .   their   parents   ,   who’ve   left   them   outside   in   the   cold   .   they’ve   watched   from   warm   windows   as   their   children   found   cover   in   the   snow   ,   as   ophelia   was   raised   by   wolves   &   tybalt   tried   to   find   love   with   strangers   .   she   grew   into   lupa   ,   ruthless   &   unforgiving   the   way   he   was   supposed   to   ;   he   spiraled   into   andromeda   ,   chained   to   a   rock   as   sacrifice   for   the   beast   to   appease   the   gods   for   his   parent’s   mistakes   .   how   is   he   to   trust   his   own   flesh   &   blood   ?   how   does   tybalt   beg   for   ceasefire   &   then   immediately   withdraw   his   peace   ?   a   hypocrite   bathed   in   the   river   styx   ,   he's   been   risen   to   be   invulnerable   ;   like   achilles   ,   he’ll   fall   from   the   smallest   of   wounds   ,   cry   as   his   heel   is   struck   by   an   arrow   he   should’ve   seen   coming   .   bitter   is   the   war   between   siblings   ,   fighting   his   own   flesh   &   blood   should’ve   never   been   an   option   ;   it   should’ve   been   them   together   ,   standing   against   their   parents   with   hands   held   tightly   .   joined   together   ,   their   forces   standing   behind   them   ,   roaring   as   they   overthrow   a   dictator   .   he   hands   her   the   crown   ,   she   gives   him   the   love   they   should   hold   for   each   other   .   in   a   perfect   world   ,   but   being   raised   by   a   thimblerigger   has   warped   them   into   stalwart   hellhounds   .

           &   he   stands   before   her   ,   scarred   ,   torn   apart   &   put   back   together   .   his   father’s   own   frankenstein   ,   designed   as   an   android   for   his   own   bidding   ;   grown   sentient   ,   tired   of   the   commands   ,   of   the   barking   orders   he’s   followed   .   tybalt   knows   he   could’ve   done   better   ,   becoming   a   monster   he   could’ve   avoided   –   ophelia   always   had   a   choice   ?   so   did   he   .   &   his   undeniable   anger   ,   the   wrath   passed   onto   him   ,   the   fury   that’s   been   chiseled   into   his   dna   –   it   mixes   with   grief   ,   unimaginable   pain   as   he   looks   at   a   sister   he   never   got   to   have   .   stolen   from   right   underneath   his   nose   by   a   titan   &   his   blinded   companion   .   ❛   yeah   ,   you   had   a   choice   .   ❜   he   repeats   ,   tearing   his   eyes   away   from   her   before   he   can   tear   up   .   his   voice   is   stone   ,   cold   marble   cut   from   the   most   pristine   batch   ;   remnant   of   a   father   who’s   possessed   him   ,   who   sacrificed   a   little   bit   of   his   soul   so   it   could   live   in   him   forever   .   lips   press   together   in   a   tight   line   ,   shaking   his   head   as   a   step   is   taken   away   from   her   ,   furthering   the   aperture   ,   ice   covering   a   river   .   ❛   you   didn’t   have   to   prove   yourself   to   anybody   ;   tell   me   who   you’re   proving   yourself   to   –   father   ?   you   should’ve   walked   away   the   minute   he   told   you   he   doesn’t   care   .   ❜   disgust   wraps   around   his   words   like   thorny   vines   –   it   hurts   him   to   say   it   ,   scratching   up   his   throat   ,   blood   spewing   from   his   lips   as   he   gives   her   his   version   of   the   truth   .   tybalt’s   always   envied   her   ,   he’s   always   looked   to   her   from   behind   metal   bars   ,   hands   covering   his   eyes   as   he   screams   for   help   .   voluntarily   or   not   ,   she’s   turned   away   ,   shown   him   her   back   ,   scratched   him   with   claws   while   he’s   forced   to   wear   the   devil’s   mask   .

           he   isn’t   searching   for   pity   ,   he   isn’t   wanting   to   hear   her   apology   .   tybalt   doesn’t   know   what   he’s   searching   for   anymore   .   it’s   always   been   love   ,   falling   into   the   idea   with   anyone   who   has   open   arms   &   open   legs   .   one   night   if   they   promise   to   love   him   for   a   couple   of   hours   ,   a   river   of   kisses   if   they   swear   to   look   at   him   &   ignore   the   ugly   scars   bared   on   his   skin   .   he   craves   the   love   he   was   promised   –   the   love   ophelia   thinks   he’s   always   held   in   golden   hands   .   so   ;   what   is   he   looking   for   from   her   ?   he’s   told   her   everything   ,   bared   his   soul   &   he’s   not   satisfied   ;   rolling   in   wealth   ,   soaked   in   power   &   personifying   midas   who   has   everything   he   wants   &   still   wants   more   .   tybalt’s   always   been   selfish   ,   son   of   narcissus   who’s   seen   his   own   grief   &   refuses   to   see   others   .   even   at   her   admission   ,   her   crippling   fear   of   failure   ,   how   she’s   never   seen   a   way   out   –   flown   past   his   head   ,   nothing   compared   to   his   own   pitfalls   .   he’s   judge   ,   jury   ,   &   executioner   –   he   deems   her   pain   unworthy   .   too   much   envy   ,   too   much   wrath   ,   too   much   sin   wrapped   around   them   .   ❛   i   don’t   want   your   apology   .   ❜   she   doesn’t   owe   him   anything   –   in   truth   ,   nothing   she   has   to   offer   will   ever   be   accepted   .   her   pity   ,   her   hurt   ,   her   gold   &   platinum   –   her   sacrifices   .   like   their   father   ,   tybalt   wants   nothing   from   ophelia   .   ❛   i   want   nothing   to   do   with   you   .   ❜   an   admission   he   didn’t   know   he   was   holding   ,   cruel   &   savage   while   he   reaches   for   the   glass   of   alcohol   .   he   picks   it   up   ,   knocking   his   ring   off   of   the   table   .   it   clatters   on   the   floor   with   a   devastatingly   loud   rattle   .   looking   up   from   the   glass   to   her   ,   his   looks   is   wicked   .   wounded   &   sacrilegious   while   he   makes   the   decision   to   turn   his   back   on   the   gods   .   he   doesn’t   want   anything   to   do   with   ichor   blooded   beings   ,   tybalt   will   wash   the   river   styx   off   ,   tear   out   golden   veins   inch   by   inch   ,   whatever   it   takes   to   secede   from   the   people   who’ve   taken   pleasure   in   cutting   him   open   for   two   decades   .

           it    feels    freeing    ,    cutting    his    chains    with    a    holy    blade    ,    to    accept    religion    from    someone    else    .    part    of    him    knows    he    doesn’t    mean    it    ,    that    he’ll    come    crawling    back    in    minutes    –    but    for    the    time    being    ,    freedom    tastes    sweet    .    a    laugh    –    jarring    ,    cutting    ,    corroding    from    bloodied    lips    as    he    finishes    the    drink    in    one    fell    swoop    .    a    final    act    of    anger    ,    hurling    the    glass    into    the    wall    the    way    he’s    observed    .    it    shatters    ,    falling    to    the    ground    ,    desperate    to    cut    some    soles    as    they    settle    on    hardwood    .    tybalt    wants    to    yell    ,    open    the    windows    &    renounce    his    family    .    ❛    i    don’t    want    anything    to    do    with    the    songs    .    ❜    he    admits    with    an    incredulous    shrug    ,    frenzied    exhilaration    sewn    into    his    exhaustion    as    he    walks    over    broken    glass    ,    ignoring    the    sting    .    ❛    o    ,    you’ve    made    your    choice    –    if    you’re    scared    of    failure    ,    go    grasp    success    –    it’s    all    yours    now    .    ❜    he    gestures    ,    a    big    one    toward    the    metaphorical    golden    light    she’s    chosen    to    pursue    .    ❛    don’t    be    sorry    ,    be    the    song    you’ve   always   to   present   yourself   as   –    but    ,    ❜    he    plants    his    feet    onto    the    floors    ,    digging    glass    into    thick    skin    while    hands    find    comforting    pockets    .    tybalt’s    head    shakes    ,    inexplicable    sorrow    written    onto    his    features    –    it’s    the    look    dae    hyun    gives    him    every    time    he    patches    him    up    ,    every    time    tybalt    covers    his    eyes    to    hide    guilty    tears    .    ❛    as    long    as    you’re    with    them    ,    you’re    not    with    me    .    we’re    not    siblings    if    you’re    chasing    his    approval    .    ❜    &    his    features    fall    even    more    ,    because    he    realizes    :    ❛    but    you’ve    never    wanted    a    brother    anyway    .    not    much    of    an    ultimatum    ,    is    it    ?    ❜      he    visibly    gives    up    ,    shoulders    drooping    ,    tears    written    into    his    eyes    while    avoiding    a    gaze    that    he    should’ve    never    seen    .    he    backs    up    ,    knees    hitting    the    couch    ,    falling    onto    it    with    bloody    footsteps    on    his    path    .    raises    his    hands    in    defeat    .

[witherins]

  ・  。  ◟   ⟨  🥀  ⟩   *    ──  winvnas

          a  relationship  that  had  felt  like  heaven  has  turned  into  winona’s  own  personal  hell  .  she  had  spent  hours  in  front  of  her  vanity  –  fingers  clenching  the  make  –  up  that  she  would  use  to  turn  herself  into  living  ,  breathing  flesh  after  a  sleepless  night  .  skin  as  pale  as  death  ,  circles  under  her  eyes  large  enough  to  be  noticed  from  twenty  feet  away  –  she  worked  her  one  brand  of  magic  as  she  carefully  painted  cherries  onto  her  mouth  ,  pinched  roses  into  her  cheeks  ,  and  put  the  stars  back  in  her  own  eyes  (  since  tybalt  wasn’t  there  to  do  it  for  her  –  and  likely  ,  never  would  again  )  .  when  this  day  was  over  and  she  returned  home  ,  just  like  the  statue  pygmalion  had  molded  ,  winona  would  turn  back  to  clay  .    false  niceties  dance  on  her  tongue  as  she  smiles  at  a  teacher  ,  the  motion  stretching  unfamiliar  muscles  .  she  had  done  her  best  to  remain  pleasant  but  even  her  patience  is  running  thin  –  people  avoiding  her  even  more  fervently  than  usual  .  she  can’t  pretend  that  it  doesn’t  hurt  .  especially  not  when  tybalt  does  the  same  thing  –  her  approach  halted  by  the  coolness  of  his  tone  .  

         for  a  second  ,  she  can’t  believe  that  he’d  have  the  AUDACITY  to  act  so  hurt  .  as  if  he  were  the  one  who  had  constantly  been  walking  over  hot  coals  to  prove  his  love  .  that  had  been  her  .  she  had  thrown  herself  at  his  feet  ,  like  a  commoner  in  front  of  a  king  .  and  begged  .  for  what  ?  he  certainly  wouldn’t  absolve  her  now  .  chin  tilts  down  ,  eyes  lowered  .  her  own  subservience  bemuses  her  .  is  winona  not  a  queen  in  her  own  right  ?  doesn’t  she  deserve  better  ?  tongue  flicks  out  to  moisten  dried  lips  before  :  ❛  i’m  sorry  .  ❜  the  words  are  a  choked  sob  that  don’t  feel  right  coming  out  .  bewildered  ,  she  feels  tears  begin  to  trace  down  her  cheeks  .    ❛  you  can’t  do  this  to  me  ,  tybalt  .  not  you  .    ❜  he  shouldn’t  have  the  right  .

            why   is   she   apologizing   ?   should   he   be   in   her   position   ,   tybalt   knows   he’d   laugh   in   her   face   ;   let   her   know   what   she’s   missing   out   on   because   at   the   end   of   the   day   –   he’s   tybalt   fucking   song   .   but   she’s   not   him   ,   he   tries   to   walk   past   her   &   avoid   her   gaze   but   he   can’t   .   winona   is   magnetic   ,   everything   that   she   says   captures   his   attention   –   even   now   .   even   when   every   time   he   looks   at   her   he   sees   a   lingering   ‘   i   love   you   ’   that   hangs   in   the   air   .   he   can   feel   it   crawling   up   his   throat   ,   threatening   to   jump   out   if   he   doesn’t   carefully   plan   out   his   next   few   moves   .   he   unbuttons   his   blazer   dangerously   smooth   ,   like   he’s   walking   into   a   meeting   &   turns   around   .   tybalt   almost   loses   his   cool   ,   he   almost   cups   her   cheek   ,   pushes   his   hair   back   like   he   always   does   ;   she   looks   pathetic   .   not   in   a   demeaning   way   ,   he   supposes   ,   but   he   recognizes   the   look   –   he’s   seen   it   too   many   times   .   if   he   loves   her   ,   why   does   he   hurt   her   so   much   ?   fear   ,   a   chill   runs   up   his   spine   –   what   a   father   song   thing   to   do   ,   hurting   someone   he   swears   he   loves   .

            so   he   steels   up   ,   he   pretends   he   doesn’t   feel   anything   because   if   he   doesn’t   pretend   ,   he   will   .   be   the   monster   he’s   always   been   ,   the   grudging   monster   he’s   always   been   to   her   ,   it’s   the   only   way �� he   gets   out   of   here   .   ❛   don’t   ,   ❜   he   tells   her   ,   shaking   his   head   while   pulling   her   to   the   side   ,   keeping   them   out   of   the   hallway   –   away   from   prying   eyes   &   eavesdropping   ears   .   ❛   don’t   apologize   ,   winona   –   you’re   not   that   pathetic   .   ❜   his   tone   is   harsher   than   he   intends   –   it   even   hurts   him   to   hear   his   words   echo   in   the   small   nook   around   them   .   tybalt   keeps   his   distance   –   a   foot   between   them   .   too   close   &   it’s   over   .   ❛   what   happened   ,   happened   –   this   is   better   for   both   of   us   .   ❜

[witherins]

          ’  𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃  𝐘𝐎𝐔  𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓  ?  ’  her  eyes  cling  to  every  detail  ,  from  the  bruises  on  his  face  to  the  ones  on  his  knuckles  .  the  ring  ,  much  like  the  one  she  wears  ,  discarded  .  ophelia  wants  to  think  of  tybalt  as  weak  .  she  always  wore  power  better  than  he  did  .  tybalt  turned  it  into  chaos  ,  ophelia  into  an  empire  .  her  own  empire  ,  one  that  means  everything  to  her  …  and  nothing  to  her  father  .  because  she  isn’t  tybalt  ,  and  all  her  achievements  are  meaningless  and  void  because  they  are  her  own  .  she  wants  to  think  of  tybalt  as  unworthy  ,  the  same  way  she  always  has  ––  because  so  is  she  ,  and  at  last  they  are  equals  .  finding  common  ground  in  what  their  father  would  call  mediocrity  .  a  son  who  failed  ,  a  daughter  who  doesn’t  matter  .  her  own  ring  is  heavy  on  her  finger  ,  a  reminder  of  the  power  she  wields  with  no  recognition  .  the  irrelevant  song  sibling  ,  whose  strength  will  always  be  forgotten  .  ’  it  doesn’t  matter  ,  ’  ophelia  admits  ,  quietly  .  honesty  is  difficult  ,  so  difficult  ,  when  it  means  facing  the  harsh  truths  that  she  has  always  tried  so  hard  to  deny  .  ’  you  realize  that  whatever  he  says  to  you  ,  whatever  i  do  ,  it  will  never  matter  .  ’  slowly  ,  nimble  fingers  slip  off  the  family  ring  .  it’s  letting  go  of  the  last  fragments  of  childish  hope  that  she  still  clings  to  .  hope  that  maybe  ,  if  tybalt  stepped  down  ,  their  father  would  finally  avert  his  gaze  from  the  prodigal  son  and  turn  to  the  daughter  who  has  always  been  there  ,  a  twisted  conqueror  wearing  a  crown  of  her  own  making  .  the  gold  suits  her  better  than  him  .  and  yet  ,  ophelia  knows  her  words  are  true  ,  as  the  ring  is  placed  in  front  of  tybalt’s  .  her  father  will  never  see  her  ,  and  neither  parent  will  ever  love  her  .  it  breaks  her  .  

          ’  𝐈  𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓  𝐈𝐓  more  than  anything  .  but  i  will  never  get  it  ,  because  i  am  not  you  .  ’

trigger  warning  :  blood  ,  death  .

            her   ring   clatters   next   to   his   ,   solidarity   in   the   finite   ,   diminutive   gesture   of   rebellion   .   the   first   sign   of   people   turning   against   their   king   ,   an   act   of   defiance   against   a   god   who’s   shown   mercy   to   none   .   solidarity   rains   down   on   him   ,   waking   him   from   a   slumber   he’s   spent   with   his   back   against   the   waves   . the   ocean   is   massive   &   terribly   lonely   ,   tybalt   a   drifter   at   sea   .   he’s   made   acquaintances   with   gods   &   monsters   alike   ;   taken   the   road   of   odysseus   ,   except   he’s   no   home   to   return   to   .   he’s   learned   no   lesson   ,   he’s   earned   no   favors   from   the   heavens   .   hubris   &   wrath   have   wrapped   around   an   undeserving   fist   ,   he’s   accepted   no   help   from   the   outside   ,   he’s   pushed   everyone   away   ,   refused   unanimity .   ridded   himself   of   a   raft   ,   ripped   off   protective   bandages   &   let   his   wounds   sting   with   the   saltwater   as   he   wilts   away   ;   a   dying   flower   ,   torn   from   the   dirt   &   thrust   into   the   sunlight   .   the   rings   ,   though   –   a   pair   of   golden   lions   ,   kings   of   the   jungle   left   on   a   glacier   .   far   from   home   ,   for   the   first   time   ,   tybalt   feels   concord   with   his   sister   &   his   instinct   tells   him   to   wait   .   wait   for   the   other   shoe   to   drop   ,   hold   his   breath   because   what   he   thinks   is   a   rescue   ship   is   just   another   obstacle   thrown   at   him   by   a   world   that’s   never   wanted   him   .

            &   even   if   it   comes   ,   doesn’t   tybalt   deserve   it   ?   should   ophelia   leave   him   for   dead   ,   should   she   choose   to   hold   his   head   underneath   the   waves   ,   laughing   to   the   moon   while   the   night   gives   her   cover   –   would   tybalt   fight   it   ?   if   she   ,   a   vengeful   queen   of   a   kingdom   built   on   war   ,   were   to   sentence   him   exile   ,   shouldn’t   he   deserve   it   ?   overwhelming   sorrow   fills   him   ,   throat   closing   as   his   eyes   run   over   her   features   .   he’s   protected   her   as   best   he   could   ,   but   as   all   things   are   with   tybalt   –   his   protection   came   with   a   back   handed   slap   .   an   insult   hurled   at   her   after   a   meeting   with   father   ,   a   jab   with   a   poisoned   dagger   while   hiding   bloodied   lips   ,   a   reminder   that   she’s   nothing   when   he   walks   with   a   limp   after   his   stint   in   a   loud   match   in   a   office   of   fortitude   ;   he   takes   the   hits   for   her   ,   but   tybalt’s   never   hesitated   to   make   sure   that   ophelia   feels   the   hot   burn   of   iron   as   he   does   .   vengeance   isn’t   justice   ,   a   lesson   he’s   never   learned   .   he   should’ve   known   better   ,   stood   up   taller   ,   wore   his   armor   without   wanting   to   pass   on   his   trauma   .   if   he   knew   what   was   fated   of   them   ,   would   tybalt   have   tried   harder   to   change   it   ?   they   could’ve   been   happy   ,   could’ve   chased   rainbow’s   ends   &   skipped   on   a   yellow   brick   road   with   allies   instead   of   making   enemies   with   each   other   .

            they   lost   long   before   they   knew   they   were   playing   .

            his   throat   constricts   ,   lump   growing   dangerously   at   the   base   while   he   listens   to   a   confession   he’s   never   heard   –   an   admittance   of   loss   .   hushed   like   a   sin   ,   like   losing   is   something   forbidden   in   the   land   ;   but   raised   in   a   dynasty   like   theirs   ?   losing   is   a   sin   ,   it’s   punishable   by   banishment   ,   public   humiliation   as   he’s   paraded   around   &   she’s   pushed   into   the   back   .   a   lot   of   things   he   should’ve   done   ,   a   lot   of   times   he   should’ve   stood   up   for   her   .   if   he   had   taken   a   couple   more   hits   ,   spoken   his   mind   no   matter   the   price   ,   looked   his   cowardice   in   the   eye   &   demanded   courage   ,   harmony   wouldn’t   feel   so   strange   .   he   wouldn’t   feel   like   he’s   waiting   for   her   to   brandish   a   dagger   against   his   gut   ,   rip   him   open   and   bloody   her   hands   to   prove   herself   to   their   father   ;   to   show   her   worth   to   a   titan   who   only   accepts   sacrifices   as   offerings   .   in   order   to   succeed   ,   they’re   to   bring   a   body   ,   bring   a   soul   ,   rip   open   hearts   to   show   their   dedication   .   tybalt’s   fingernails   are   stained   crimson   ,   copper   a   permanent   taste   on   his   tongue   that   he   can’t   get   rid   of   with   any   amount   of   alcohol   .   but   even   if   he’s   her   next   offering   ,   their   father   would   turn   a   blind   eye   –   take   him   into   his   kingdom   to   revive   him   ,   give   him   another   chance   that   he   didn’t   ask   for   .   ophelia’s   right   ,   as   always   ,   but   how   much   longer   can   tybalt   be   a   god   ?   he   craves   mortality   ,   tybalt   is   so   close   he   can   reach   out   &   grab   it   ;   he’ll   be   pulled   back   ,   bathed   in   nectar   &   fed   ambrosia   that   tastes   eerily   of   blood   .

            ❛   remind   me   that   i’m   supposed   to   better   .   ❜   his   jaw   clenches   ,   because   they   both   know   he’s   never   been   better   .   tybalt   simply   is   ,   ophelia   is   a   ruler   ;   the   natural   born   titan   that   his   father   wanted   him   to   be   .   she’s   the   iron   fist   &   outer   beauty   ,   ruthlessness   of   a   rose   hidden   in   a   bush   of   thorns   .   ❛   ophelia jane eun-a song   ,   how   is   a   girl   like   her   surpassing   you   in   every   way   ?   ❜   spoken   in   korean   ,   spoken   like   his   father   –   scarily   similar   in   the   same   deep   tone   ,   even   the   roughness   of   their   voices   .   ❛   did   it   ever   occur   to   him   that   i   don’t   want   to   surpass   you   ?   that   i   don’t   want   to   be   better   ?   ❜   sudden   anger   in   his   voice   ,   also   characteristically   like   their   father   (   after   all   ,   did   tybalt   ever   get   a   chance   to   develop   a   personality   of   his   own   ?   )   .   it   almost   gets   hard   to   breathe   ,   a   harsh   reminder   from   a   father   halfway   across   the   world   that’s   always   with   him   .   ‘   watch   your   words   ,   ’   he   can   hear   ,   ‘   watch   how   you   speak   of   yourself   &   how   you   speak   of   me   .   ’   his   hand   shakes   again   –   fear   ,   this   time   ,   because   their   father’s   in   the   shadows   ;   he’s   everywhere   ,   making   sure   tybalt’s   tongue   is   sharp   ,   making   sure   he’s   been   taught   well   ,   watching   with   pride   as   tybalt   takes   another   victim   .   tybalt   will   never   be   rid   of   him   .   ❛   you’re   not   me   ,   you’re   better   .   ❜   he   meets   her   eyes   ,   hues   swimming   with   fear   &   courage   altogether   .   ❛   take   it   ,   o   .   i–   i’m–   ❜   he   struggles   to   say   the   words   ,   they   don’t   even   sound real   from   his   lips   .   a   gong   in   the   background   ,   a   battle   horn   sounds   .   ❛   i’m   on   your   side   .   siblings   aren’t   supposed   to   fight   each   other   .   ❜