And I Don't Regret Any Of It ) - Tumblr Posts
@deathburns asked; ‘ i am so glad we were born during the same lifetime ’ [ GIVE ME THE GOOD BELLATTE CONTENT ]
► ❪ POETRY // accepting ❫
It's quite interesting how life often doesn't go the way you predict and how it chooses instead to fly in the face of plans. The line Ellatte's own life tread was a nostalgic one, diligently followed with points clearly mapped out, marking where it was to head and steered by decisions formed long ago: helping her dearest friend in his responsibility as the Head Warrior of the Celestials. For an age, the best option was tantamount to being the only one in her eyes. A choice easy to accept for she never minded. If she stayed on route that familiar affection born over years of inquisitive pouring over books, speculations and long talks, watching the clouds below, and so much more would await her at the end of it.
But Ellatte's not in the Sky Temple. She's not by Solaad's side.
Her path once clear and narrow, slowly branched from the given story meant for her, spiraling into new possibilities. The discovery of other races still inhabiting the earth below an incredible shock to the Clan, calling into question much of the knowledge they knew, and so she volunteered to descend to the mortal realm of Brittannia.
( ❝ Ellatte, no ! ❞ Lady Vaness' protests ring through the room, already she can see the frowns of disapproval and disappointed shakes of the head from other council members to her bid. ❝ This is foolishness ! You cannot do this so suddenly and without knowing the level of danger. Another can take on this task. You must to honor the traditions ! ❞
It's a first, the age old tradition ( the Head Warrior and his new wife accepting their new duty, taking custody over the sacred Winged Sword and protecting the clan ) broken with a rite of succession carried out in the most harrowing of times, but the situation has led them all here. If she leaves, she can no longer be considered Solaad's fiancee.
❝ I have to refuse. ❞ A cool tone cuts through the chaotic din. Her resolve is not so brittle as to bend and crack under the pressure from detractors. ❝ Traditions are something to heed the wisdom of, but you know as I do that they also would have been the reason we all died. Meliodas helped us, and everyone chose to brush it aside because he was a demon. What a backwards sense of convenience ! We are Celestials, members of the great Goddess clan, but none of us could have stood up to a monster like the Indura, much less the high rank demons that escaped before that thing ! It's a fact we barely escaped complete destruction, and it's thanks to a demon and his companions that Solaad brought back ! ❞
Most wrote him off as running away from his duties but Solaad braved this trial – despite needles of skepticism / doubt pricking the softer outer shell, his own fears and misgivings, and the weighty expectations foisted upon his shoulders – and saved his people. This was the least she could do.
❝ And now we know that the other clans survived the holy war this whole time ? I will go to Brittannia and see with my own eyes. I will learn what the world is like now. ❞
There's other avenues to assist Solaad beyond the ties of marriage and getting a clearer picture of what the world had become over 3000 years would be a good start. Sure, it'd take time but she's only in her 200s, and Solaad was managing fine on his own. She already garnered his approval long before she stepped foot in this room. ( a sunny smile, tittered with slight nerves but accepting of her decision, and she's reminded again of why this must be done. ❝ just be safe, okay ellatte ? that's all i can ask of you. ❞ ) Her telling them this was really just a courtesy. If it ever became more than she could handle, she could seek out the Seven Deadly Sins for assistance.
When her mission was complete, it'd be fine if things resumed. A place - her best friend - would be waiting for her. She'd be happy with that. )
Again, life has trouble adhering to plans. Now she's down here, and much has changed. The dramatic pivot can largely be traced back to one simple connection. The last she ever thought could be made.
Bellion.
Her Bellion.
And it remains a wonder, even after all the time that passed since that became a reality, to be able to say that, to have the confidence to allow it to fall from parted lips so that others may know who her affection has been bestowed upon, to know he let her. Her Bellion. Four syllables fizzing on the tip of her tongue, drawing forth a special kind of warmth–- hers. he's hers and she's his, to love and be loved.
Perhaps her attentions originally ( strictly ! ) stemmed from an abundance of caution / ill-placed fascination over what instilled the jarring absence of the unrelenting, terror inducing rage presented to her prior - but it to underwent a change. More malleable, adaptable, it had grown into something – no, many things more, the flourish of fondness not the least among them. It’s still strange to think, for a variety of reasons, that a simple happenstance led to these smiles, this laughter, the company / comfort of another, but Ellatte knows she wouldn't give it up. Yes, she loves Solaad, a feeling as sure as the rising of the sun, a care for her friend she always has and will continue to cherish, an irreplaceable bond held close to her heart, but it's different type of intimate love.
Maybe it's only now she's falling in love for the first time.
Charmed as she was, Ellatte's normally averse to interrupting his duties. Well, what bits and pieces she has seen of it. After all, she catches him stealing plentiful moments of rest more than actual work. Honestly, it's a wonder the village is still standing ( she knows, how hard he tries now, to make things better, to move forward from the darkness of his past, vigilant against threats encroaching on his newfound life ). She had just returned from visiting villages to the east, making a beeline straight for the unsuspecting demon. It'd surely be fine to steal him for a night, right ?
She hadn't announced their destination, simply coaxed him to follow her through the skies until they reached here. A little meadow once privy to only her, now known to them. A steady stream of water falls over the rocky crag into a basin, a swift stream flowing from the natural depression and cutting through the grassy field speckled with a number of varying flowers. Rather difficult for those earthbound, all manners of peril impeding traversal, but when the ease of flight was available such deterrents meant little to those who could simply float far above over them.
The ground beside her after she seats herself near the river is patted in invitation. And so they rest, lounging on their backs watching the sun close its eyes for another night, cool evening air slowly replacing it. Sunset paints the sky and the curves of their shoulders & jaws, the full of their cheeks in shades of reds, oranges, and pinked purples. The moments in-between are small and quiet, conversation filling the comfortable silence. News of events in the village exchanged for recollections of the places she's traveled to since. Their time together was peppered with occurences like these. Introspective, reflection, an exercise in understanding. Learning, she's always learning new things about him, the world.
And occasionally, during these stolen moments, where tiredness thrums through their bones, every touch is a soft, gentle thing meant to warm, soothe, comfort. Bellion’s nuzzles have gotten no less surprising, in some ways. Even in the ways they have, they don’t lose how they simply endear her heart - an tension unbeknownst to her drains from her body, shoulders slouching as Ellatte leans into the gesture, warm breath feathering the curve of his collarbone, a giggle slipping free as the edges of his hair tickles her cheek.
But alas, pretty as dusk was, it was not the event she brought him for. Celestials, and perhaps their ancestors before them, always had a knack for sensing changes in the celestial bodies, the shift of the light within the endless dark above. Pinpricks of distant lights soon begin to dot the vault of sky high above them, an array of streaked light for the people of Brittannia to cast their wishes, their hopes, and dreams upon. It's not the same spectacle as the star shower that graced the land's skies some time before the Egg Rock cracked open, a bewildering show of crisscrossing patterns across the night sky, but watching stars shoot by always carried a certain magic, sparkling trails on the cusp of night and day.
They're fewer in number now, stars falling one or two at a time, and she’s lost track of how long she’s had her eyes closed now, the chirp of cicadas used to measure the passage of time - but even that’s given way to silence since, leaving her only the falling water to count his slow, deep breaths to.
It’s then she hears him. The first instance is quiet, a ❛ thank you ❜ buoyed by the content silence. There’s a minute furrow of brows, a purse of sun loved lips before they smooth out, something reminiscent of a smile dancing over them - gentle and soft, as rain is after an endless summer.
Fingertips brush against the inside of his hand - the callouses make themselves known immediately, spots of hardened skin betraying the years of ache and punishment they've undergone ( she has her own, a product of working on her skill with the sword, burnished by the unusual heat of her harsh light, accumulated during the years preparing for the next onslaught, but they aren’t nearly as pronounced ). An easy sigh escapes her, rosy cheeks coloring her features, ❝ You don't need to give any thanks. I wanted to show you something nice, and I just like spending time with you. ❞
But he continues. The second instance a small murmur, a confession lingering through the stillness of the air:
‘ i am so glad we were born during the same lifetime ’
Teal eyes flicker upward, a steady gaze awaiting her. One that’s unreadable in some areas, but softer still in others, wisps of affection curling in those gold depths. It settles deep within her chest, both the words and the look, the weight they carry mixing and weaving with all the things she feels for the man resting in the grass, tucked against her side. It warms her soul, blossoming out, flowing through starlit veins.
The celestial shifts, a brief rustle of clothes against stalks of crumpled grass, wings falling flat against her shoulders as she turns so she rises off the grass, leaning against an elbow. Hand moving to tuck silver strands behind an ear, she smiles down at the one calls friend, lover, hers. ❝ ...Same lifetime ? ❞
It'd be more accurate to say they came across one another in the same lifetime. A chance experience that never should have come to pass. He was born many years ago, sealed away then and freed now. He is depicted in all his fierce intensity upon the murals of her temples, should have expired along with the rest of his kind. But he persists.
Celestials themselves are no longer so long lived. There is no Supreme Deity, magic decaying over the years and with it their extended longevity. If she was a Celestial ( a goddess, your true birthright; celestial is but a different label to the same brand ) of old, her years spanning millennia instead of the few centuries, then she could make that proper claim.
Their very first impossible, never meant to occur meeting still stands stark amongst her recent memories. The time of ruin, a dizzying cacophony of confrontations. Steel blades clashing, hellish retribution conflicting against valiant deterrence. ( failed vessel for something more divine, you were never designed to last / is that why the light of your spirited anger burns so fiercely [...] so brightly ? ) The suspicion that followed, seeing him on earth thereafter in the middle of her assignment, spotting him again in the Sky Temple. A series of the unlikeliest of encounters.
A palm smoothes down the length of his jaw — the movement leading her forward until she’s able to grant a careful nuzzle to his cheek, and then another to his jaw, until finally landing a light peck up upon his temple and then simply pressing her forehead to his. Inner light buzzing at the proximity of his darkness, her movements are careful. They carry the grace of battle in them --- but also the tender care of someone who treasures what she holds. It’s accidental when their noses brush, the sensation enough to draw a light sound of amusement; still, the hand on his cheek seeks out one of his, fingers interlocking with ease, like they belonged nowhere else.
❝ I am too. ❞ For a moment she breathes, taking in him, soaking in the heat he radiates, green fixated on gold. ❝ Thank you for finding your way to me. Despite everything, I’m glad I get to be here with you. ❞
Rumours and tales of demons hail them cold, dead creatures, darkbloods with too many hearts that beat naught but cruelty, only existing to feast on the souls of the pure and righteous, and to sew chaos and destruction. It’s a sin to spare them. By all accounts they should be foes, not sweetly indulging in each other's time without a care in the world.
She, a smitten Celestial maiden, cradling he, a demonic warrior borne of the dark, ever closer and dares the world to cast judgement for her actions.
( it's alright now icarus, you may rest now / i will be the wings that withstand the sun, that will catch you when you fall )