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LOCATION: The Old World TIMELINE: ilsung's early years; within ten years before The Fall, and two years after The Fall. at the time that Ivory City is in talks as a solution to the catastrophe that They Who Fell brought. TAGS: #ilsungselfpara #wpc01
written for my oc park il-sung in IVORY CITY. 2022.
for the monthly writing challenge, regarding the song βThe Lighthouseβ by Halsey.
CONTENT WARNINGοΉ literary references to hans christian andersen & australian aboriginal stories for fictional purposes; subtle mentions of violence, blood.
TERMINOLOGY: * ngaro β great barrier reef (indigineous name) * terra australis β australia (latin name) * imogen β βmaiden, mistressβ; one of king triton's daughters.
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And I will lure you like a landslide, And I'll show you lovely things; If you rescue me, but they're make-believe, The lighthouse by the sea.
γ € γ € γ € that night, the waters were warm and still when a bundle was left by the reefs where one of the seven sisters resided.
γ β far out in the ocean, the water is as blue as the petals of the loveliest cornflower, and as clear as the purest glass. it goes down deeper than any anchor rope will go, and many, many steeples would have to be stacked one on top of another to reach from the bottom to the surface of the sea. it is down there that the βsea folkβ live. γ
the babe snuggles closer with twinkling eyes next to its mother; the sea stars pale in comparison to the young one's delight in the millionth time that her voice delivers familiar wavelengths.
γ β now don't suppose that there are only bare white sands at the bottom of the sea. no indeed! the most marvelous trees and flowers grow down there, with such pliant stalks and leaves that the least stir in the water makes them move about as though they were alive. all sorts of fish, large and small, dart among the branches, just as birds flit through the trees up here. γ
imogen's finger taps the infant's nose with a gentle look on her face, cradling him closer with her forehead touching his.
γ β from the deepest spot in the ocean rises a palace, with walls made of coral; high pointed windows of the clearest amber; and the roof made of mussel shells opening and shutting with the tide... a wonderful sight to see, for every shell holds glistening pearls, any one of which would be the pride of the crown... β γ
a prayer follows, muttered under her breath,
γ and so, may they be enough. many enough, so that the sea king will never think to find you. γ
for thousands of years that the ngaro possess powerful currents around terra australis, the oceans carry both the whispers and truths about stories through its dynamic waters. the only pathway for anyone to hear of anyone or anything else, end to end.
one of which are the terrors of βThe Deep Endβ, a well-known trade by parents crafted for different uses with their young'ins; so they may quickly fall asleep during night, or to frighten them to never venture beyond the Reef.
but of course, il-sung never really paid attention to the say-so's around auntie im.
not until he realizes that it had been too late to hold his tail against another ningyo, baring his fangs and his claws, swimming with all his might for his fists to collide with a cheek; and auntie im fetches him from the grievances of their neighbor and their child, bruised and bloodied, with his anger still evident from the cold shoulder he gives her when they arrive home.
γ that seems to be the fiftieth time within this moon, ilsung. γauntie im comments, intentionally pressing the dead sponges against his ripped off scales, and the boy's stubbornness finally breaks with a hiss. she places the sponge down, searching for his eyes. γ why must you aggravate your friends? at this rate, you will be all alone, and i will never be at peace if i ever have to leave you with no one at your side. γ
γ i don't need them. not, when they keep slandering your name while you keep on helping others at your cost. how does that work out for you? you are hated for having a bleeding heart. γhe spits with fangs peaking from his sharp words, even if he nurses the spot that his guardian leaves. tension rises as his demeanor suddenly drops, and fear settles under the pretense of continuous anger.
γ besides, i don't understand why you keep talking like this when we're going to be together forever! i told you, i have no interest in the surface or in anything else; i'd rather grow old with auntie im here in the trenches than deal with those fools. γ
it had been the last time that auntie im's laughter rings through the trench, with a flick of her fingers on her ward's forehead, before that wistful glance returns. she seems to have that faraway look often these days, one that he can't read, and ilsung doesn't like it.
imogen shakes her head, gazing at the remaining sea stars that decreases day by day. oh, little did her ward know... of the big things ahead of him; of the air spirits with voices diminishing as they are slowly becoming entrapped on land like their early ancestors; of how the currents are slowly becoming unpredictable, raging, poisonous.
γ foolish child! as if i'd let you be with me to rot in shipwrecks. i'll rather have you off my hands than deal with the trouble you bring me every passing minute. γ the older ningyo, with the palest scales and hair recognizable throughout their relative seas, chides him. γ always remember, ilsung, pride must suffer pain. γ
ilsung always thought that her cryptic words and eccentric actions are always a product of her work, crowned as the sea witch who lived in the trenches of Oceania.
and he should've thought better despite his aunt's warnings two years later, to follow his gut instincts to trace the bubbles from where a harpoon had been shot, and an anchor lowered closely to their abode.
even if his words repeated in his head of how disinterested he is of the World Out There, he couldn't shake the danger lurking within his yellow belly; the alarms going off at the back of his mind that something is off while he investigates the latest crash on the seabed; finding scraps that of use and of threat, for he wanted to eliminate the latter, not realizing untilββ
the young ningyo screams bloodily at the top of his lungs as he thrashed against the net that suddenly pulls him out of the deep. the warnings never made the men keel over in pain as ilsung finally separates from the water, though the fangs that extended from the roof of his splitting mouth, and the tail that whipped the pulley down into the ocean with him were unknowingly enough.
enough, for the sea king to finally find him.
the boy clenches his heart within ribs, hurrying to find auntie im; for the first time, with primal fear festering faster than he can swim towards the trench. a whizz! buzzes pass him soon enough, finding himself pinned to the ocean floor with a metal impaled in the body of his tail.
imogen's prayers seem to have never reached the stars, twelve years later; when ilsung is only able to connect the pieces behind blurring, teary gaze of a man with similar build to his own.
yellow belly, black scales, grey eyes.
a confirmation that he had never been his foster mother's kind.
γ there you are, my son. γ
the thing is, they never said the Devil resides in the middle of The Deep End.
the waves were tall and they were crashing down when the ship finally reaches the shoreline. overhead, the storms continue to roar of lightning and thunder on the motherland; unforgiving rain and hail piercing the crew's clothes like bullets, as if Calypso is cursing them, and the beacon of the lighthouse is the only hope they dash toward to.
however, no sailor raises their concerns to the captain, who holds the most precious cargo in his arms. they know better than to intervene with a Chernoff; the name itself lets anyone know where to kneel, amongst the nereids and soon, the New World that arrived.
blood trickles from newly-formed legs, washed away by rain droplets and seawater, hooked under newly-scarred arms by the large man. erik adjusts the makeshift hood covering the head of his boy, whose glassy look is a minute away from passing out; his lungs struggling to adapt with full blown oxygen on land, and his hand collared with glamour to have him imprisoned to this form until he can own it.
redemption or damnation?
such is a question that will haunt ilsung many years later, with his oxfords on the tiles of the Chernoff Estate standing in a city that the elders helped built, and the rivers of blood he doesn't know his hands are already soaked in.
ah, but that is a tale for another time. γ € γ € γ €
I went swimming with the devil at the bottom of a lake. Wanted reconciliation, but my tongue was in my teeth; I couldn't find the floor, so I was kicking with my feet, But they weren't there, they were stolen. γ € γ €