Fantasy 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐲: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

[neon reverie]

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[neon reverie]

Cupid

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  mood

  
  
  
  

  OH MY--
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  outfit

  
  
  
  

  rose heaven
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  location

  
  
  
  

  an alley
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  interactions

  
  
  
  

  menace ! devil ! @.moonchild.
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

Golden gates and prismatic stone home those who carry eons in their souls and infinity in their palms. Mighty beings that will prate and laugh about earthen triumphs woven with hands that no longer touch its plane, before tugging at strings of fate even if it tears. Galactic dust lingers on eyelashes, while apathy sits on the tongue like a bruise of its own making; the rumbles of unrest dismissed as if it was a child’s tantrum. Humans, they have declared, are in dire need of guidance but unworthy of proximity to heaven’s council.

A distance that has only grown over time stands, between immortals and mortals, between fate and the fated— it is the price of wisdom among irreverence. It is because the gods know, even if humanity doesn’t, that worlds end without them; flashes of those futures being all golden flames and ebony, printed with twilight tragedies and the last coming of dawn. It is the price of being gods, they say, to have their sacred veins ache for the wounds earth feels. Dismiss they can, but ignore they cannot, the screams of their children -- even if it’s their own vices that shout. A care for the careless; this is how gods are born.

And it is how human guise gets draped over galactic skin, immortality shrinking into a mortal vessel. Somewhere, the golden gates creak as they open, not to let one in, but to send one away. Down below the fated goes, and it’s the heavens that tremble this time; maybe because, deep down, they know, too, how true fate bows to no one.

Not even gods.

Odd glances and reproachful whispers stick to Cupid’s form like love does to bleeding hearts; heads turn to watch a frame stumble about, dressed in fabrics thin and flowing. Constellations of wonder map her eyes while lips are parted in breathlessness, creating a picture not unlike that of a child who is discovering the world for the first time. So many strange objects, so many new sights— had mortals always been this inventive? Earth, a faraway but familiar realm, suddenly had become one she could barely recognize, her last memories now akin to faded murals you will find on walls of lost cities and ancient ruins. For the first time, Cupid can feel the age in her soul; all daylights that have burned, all the midnights that have cradled... History grins as it bows, knowing how far people go to witness, let alone, make it.

Still, despite how much humans have changed in these eons, their hearts remain the same. Love, as the human language has titled the emotion, has yet to slip through her fingers, or at least the knowledge of it. Oh and how beautiful love is; tender whispers in crowded rooms, aureate lips clashing as if touching means salvation, hands reaching throughout great wars— Cupid witnessed it all through heaven’s mirror. Her heart wept as much as it fluttered at these images, envious of what she could not have and jealous of those who could watch it happen so closely.

Though, things were different now, weren’t they? No longer distanced by sky and cloud, a rare chance had risen. To watch love happen right in front of her, that’s what captured Cupid’s first interest upon arriving on earth. A selfish need grumbles within, luring her into an alley close to a carpentry shop where a fated couple meets every day. Eager peeks travel across the street, hoping to catch those soul woven affections. They were a true match after all !

“You are a horrid man, i’m telling you! A pig !” a shrill voice exclaims, throat straining out of pure fury. A woman marches out of the building, followed by a man who looks more than exasperated.

“I’m telling ya, I have no damn clue how that glove got there!” he shouts, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Sure you don’t! Was it Charlotte? I knew that whore was trying to steal you, giggling like that."

“For godsake woman, i’m driven crazy by those delusions of yours. If you don’t want to believe me, then that’s your problem. Not mine!”

“You want a your problem? Don’t bother coming home you cheating pig! Go and sleep with the rats— you have experience with that anyway!”

“Now don’t you dare lock me out of my own home! I built half of it—“

What….what was this???

Cupid could barely believe her eyes as the two humans fought, stunned into stupor. Just a few days ago, the mirror had shown nothing but happiness between them! How could her match spiral so badly, so fast? She knows why— but that is a problem to solve later. Fingers brush against the amulet, instinct itching to summon the bow and arrow and shoot; sever the bond before it’s too frayed to ever be mended again. Her heart aches at the thought, not wishing to see love die right before her. Alas, duty comes first, always…

Something flashes in the corner of her eye; a figure with hands in pockets that do not belong to them. The thief snatches a pocket watch and some coins, before walking away again, leaving only her as the witness of it. A crime done in broad daylight, audacious and most certainly worthy of condemnation. But it also saves Cupid then, sparing her from a sight far more heartbreaking. Grateful, she could not be, knowing better than to be in debt to such a sinner. Still, a flower of hope blossoms from these machiavellian grounds; petals falling onto palms, each carrying a whisper of minds.

If I get those belongings back, could I talk to them?

Maybe they will listen to my advice.

What if I can make them see the worth of their love again.

Hands close around the petals and absorb its sweet wisdom like obsidian absorbs light. Opposites of morals are drawn towards each other and, somewhere, heaven trembles inside her. Cupid moves before rationalism does, pushed by a faith higher than heaven and deeper than hell.

She will make this right!

Startled looks cling to the human form as she dashes out of the alley, determination echoing in steps fast and thundering. Cupid pays them no mind, focus zeroed in on that one person. It is a chase that leads her ultimately into another alley. Shadows shroud the figure, their back turned. Her heart beats wild— is it nerves or adrenaline? She swallows either down — it does not matter, for she is Cupid— before clearing her throat.

"Excuse me, I believe you have something that is not yours. You should give it back before—"

the head turns and streaks of light catch onto features harrowingly familiar. They become a he, bearing a face that steals the air from her lungs.

“You….”

eyes go wide in recognition; Cupid needs to steady herself, or more so steady her heart, before the words can gather on her tongue again. Fabric crinkles under a tightening grasp while fate grins.

“You are the one who has been wrecking all my love matches!!"

about you

the 1975

♡coded by uxie♡