In regards to the very sad Cielizzy post you wrote this morning…
December 20, 1893
My dearest Elizabeth,
W.B. Yeats once wrote that love is but a brief, dreamy delight; one that fades with kiss to kiss. He warned against the follies of Venus and I, in all my black casualty, took his words to heart. Dear Lizzy, how should I begin this letter knowing that once you finish reading, you will hate—nay, loathe—me forever? Until the end of your days, you golden haired angel, you would despise and perhaps, even worse, pity me.
I am a coward.
A feckless, undeserving coward.
It is said that love makes one deaf, blind, and dumb but I have managed to become all three without ever having sipped the rosy dew. Elizabeth, please understand. You—beautiful, ineffable you—there is nothing I can say, nothing I can do, that will fully express the force and grief of my indignation. One I have brought upon myself. I loathe this ash stricken city and I loathe myself all the more for having stitched my very essence into its concrete foundation. My darling, dearest Elizabeth, I can afford to show you the tattered pieces of my heart because I am, at this very moment, a king without a crown.
Or have I ever been a king? Illusions are the finest guile a demon can contrive and I have fallen into his composition like a foolhardy Falstaff. I am Shakespeare’s greatest fool but I possess no tragedy—this man-made sorrow is one of my own design. I have attended to my selfish grievances for far too long and realize, only now, that I have betrayed your love in favor of something so brutish and cruel, there is not enough mercy in all the seas to save me from drowning.
Your virtue is the only thing I can hold onto so please, my fair, brave Lizzy, please let me cling onto you a little while longer.
For what would you think of a pathetic ten year old boy—caged, disgraced, beaten, tortured, humiliated and degraded like a common whore—who made a deal with the devil? From the sable fires and shadowed depths, he manifested before me, violet eyed and grotesque, offering me vengeance and Nemesis’s sword. I took his hand and gave him my soul. I sealed a contract of demonic truce on my eye and watched with malicious joy as he burned the cult—building, fields and all—to the very ground. I brought this nefarious creature home with me and I called him Sebastian.
I have been damned since you last laid eyes on me and sometimes, I think it would have been best if I had remained dead. I have always been unworthy of your love; me, a perfidious fiend bound to a beast of hell…sweet Lizzy, I am no great being. I am not to be mourned. Do not cry for me gentlest heart, do not mourn me again. The boy you loved—the boy who was worthy of your love—he died many years ago in the fire that killed his father and mother.
I am but a hollowed shell who has subsided on the manna of your smiles and the honey of your voice. Sebastian speaks in carmine and silk but you—my convivial sunshine—you personify the earth, the rain, and the heavens. In you, Lizzy, I have found salvation and I beg you not to hold me aloft. You are the pear sweet rainwater—a petrichor essence I now survive on—as air and oxygen hold no life. You are my humanity, you are my heart.
Recently, some six months ago, I discovered the genesis of my enslavement and with Sebastian’s subservience, I destroyed the puppet master who has for so long held me hostage. My contract has been fulfilled and I am no longer entitled to this bruised and battered soul. I begged the demon—begged, if you do not think me pathetic then surely you must now—for one more day. Just one more so that I may write and tell you dearest Lizzy that despite everything, the affection I have long held for you is truer than the amorous rites of queens, kings, and noble saints. Doubt that the stars are fire, doubt truth to be a liar but never, Lizzy, never doubt the love I hold for you.
For too long I have stayed my hand and only now, like the jester’s epitaph, do I realize my folly. I carry with me many regrets but you, Lizzy, you shall be free of me once the dawn fades pink. When the bluebirds begin to sing outside your window and the spring breeze caresses your cheek, you will be free and I ask you, my immortal beloved—my lover and knight and truest companion—to please be happy.
Ever and eternally yours,
- “Love is but a brief, dreamy delight…” modified quote from W.B. Yeats poem ‘Never give all the heart’.
- Falstaff: references Sir John Falstaff, a fictional character in Shakespeare’s plays ‘Henry IV, Part 1’ and ‘Part 2’. He is a vain, boisterous, cowardly knight who survives on stolen or borrowed money. (Much like how Ciel lives on stolen/borrowed time.)
- Petrichor: (n) the pleasant, earthy smell after rain.
- “Doubt that the stars are fire…” modified from William Shakespeare’s ‘Hamlet’. It is part of the letter Hamlet writes to his betrothed, Ophelia, reassuring her of his love.
A/N: Alright it’s official. Your blog is my pinwheel of inspiration, you wonderfully creative darling ♡
idc about any other show anymore i don’t care i’m sorry none of them can possibly ever compare with the sheer glory and joy that is elementary, the pureness, light of my life, my most beautiful and adored, most beloved