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They say that the heart is the object of love. It’s meant to be the symbol of love, full of it and constantly pumping out love. But in reality, in this Psyche, blood only represents pain.
Anguish, suffering, loneliness; every feeling that the Heart of this place fears feeling is what he ends up feeling all of the time. They lie in their bed every single day, alone and in the pitch black dark of their blindness. The Mind is someone he can seldom trust, and who would turn to the person that slashed your eyes out of your face? Simply put, the Moon is unloved. Unpredictable, pitiful, pathetic & violent, unworthy of any attention from his thirds, especially after the ‘Incident’.
That was, until…
another distorted voice appeared in the cold abyss.
“Oooh, Juno, poor thing… You’ve been lying here all day, haven’t you?” It calls all of a sudden in the present, somewhere above the Moon.
A voice that glitches with a certain consonant, a voice that sounds so unusual, comes to the fallen angel every single day with an impish lilt in all its words. They’ve long forgotten when he first appeared, but he’s been a light in the darkness — metaphorically. Constantly being there for him, checking up on him, tending to his wounds and feathers…
Yet every time she enters to tell him how long he’s been lying there, Heart can only respond with a simple, sighed out, “Yeah.”
A shameful, knowing response. But 2oul always responds with something much less bothered.
“Typical of you, ye2… but it doe2n’t bother me, 2weet thing.”
Those are words that never fail to fill the purple-clad man with warmth, and he’s sure that the angel knows.
“Have you really done nothing at all today, Juno? I’m a2king out of curio2ity.” The angel asks with its head tilted. It sounds backhanded enough that he hesitates to answer. “…Yeah, nah…” he unenthusiastically responds, voice croaky from disuse, “Just couldn’t be bothered… and I hate getting up when I wake up.”
2oul nods along as if he understands the unwilling feeling. If the Moon had the eyes to see this, they would probably take offence to it with their moodiness. But the angel had the blessing of a blindfold and scratched out eyes to hide his potential expressions. With a casual, merry smile on its face, they respond, “I 2ee, I 2ee…”
Simple, but knowing. They proceed to sit beside the curled up fallen angel, zero weight pressing down on the fluffy blankets by his choosing.
Admittedly, he doesn’t get to sit on this bed of Heart’s often. More and more weight drops onto it as the spirit examines the fluffy texture. It observes the fairy lights around the room as well, glowing a faint purple, wondering why a blind bird would need them still. Perhaps he’s forgotten they were there in the first place. Just as 2oul decides to bring it up as a conversation starter, Juno’s croaky voice sounds to blurt something out.
“I feel… really lonely,” they tell the other angel. Before he can come up with a response, they clear the croaks in their throat to continue. “I can’t see anyone, no one wants to touch me… Hah, I bet Soul and Mind are scared of me now, ever since Cacophony, and that’s why they never check up on me when I’m all alone in here, rotting…” They pause and lower their tone with a hint of sorrow. “It’s… satisfying, I guess. It’d mean Mind’s too scared to mess with me. But at the same time…”
The cyan angel turns its torso to look back him just as his hands tighten into fists. Every waking moment, it feels like the Heart is holding back a flood, one that fluctuates in force and feeling. This particular flood was loneliness… obviously. A couple of beats go by, followed by the low giggles of 2ouls. “That’2 one feeling of your2 I can under2tand. Tho2e two cannot 2eem to, and I know it mu2t hurt… Do I make that loneline22 better, pretty bird?”
There is silence — which it chocks up to embarrassment from Heart. It was too easy to flatter this baby bird. They hum eventually, and 2oul can only return another giggle. Waaaay too easy. It’s a shame that the remaining thirds can’t see the clear cuteness of this one. If they did, then perhaps he would be regarded more when he stayed inside his room all day. Perhaps that’s a fault of his own though… Either way, the apparition would be here to appreciate him, today and tomorrow just like yesterday.
“That’2 exactly what I want, Juno,” Ares begins, leaning backwards and down to Juno. They turn slightly to meet the sound of his voice. “I want to fill that void you have in2ide of you. The void empty with loneline22, 2orrow, animo2ity…”
Its voice turns to an autotuned whisper when it finally says, “I want to fill up all it2 empty crevice2 with 2ickly 2weet love. And you’ll let me… won’t you?” The expectant words leave him slowly. It’s, apparently, enough to ruffle the black feathers on the fallen angel’s neck. It’s also enough for the fallen angel to roll over and pull 2oul down into their clawed hands. It phases through the blankets with a gasp, avoiding the hassle of lifting them to adjust.
Heart shivers at first. “Ah, you’re cold…” They point out quickly. Even so, they still pull her closer. It’s hard to tell if they really mind or not… the angel slowly adjusts her temperature to suit the warm bed anyways. “Well, I am 2omething of a gho2t, you know thi2. Or, well…” 2oul pauses to think to himself. They cuddle closer to the Juno in the meanwhile. “How many time2 have we touched…?”
“Uh… Uhm.”
The fallen angel stammers. Ares stays silent for him to sort his memories in peace.
“…I can’t remember.” He says sheepishly. Of course. The apparition can only hum teasingly. “Of cour2e not. Well then… I’ll ju2t give you 2omething more to remember.” Saying this, they reach up to stroke the Heart’s cheek with a still-cold hand. It earns another shiver out his body, and 2oul is pulled ever closer as if in pouting punishment.