A fresco on the ceiling of the Saint Nicolas cathedral by Giuglio Quaglio, the painting doesn’t have a name (and it took me literally one hour to find it bc I thought it was a painting from the Renaissance ad it’s obviously Baroque eziohgozigh I’m so stupid)
Landscape with the fall of Icarus
Jpn ver (behind Namjoon)
Kr ver (behind Taehyung)
and I think that’s it for the paintings in the jpn ver!
Darling dearest, did you want to learn?
You ached for something bigger,
Something that would make you more than just a simple girl.
Darling dearest, did he charm you too?
He’s bright and alluring and his eyes hold the weights of the world.
He makes you feel like you’re dying.
Just seeing him hurts.
But he makes you feel alive, and that’s enough to quiet the warnings being whispered to your heart.
Darling dearest, did you feel trapped?
First it was a room, and then they added bars.
It called to you, didn’t it?
The feel of the wind stroking your face,
Tangling your hair,
Feeding each beat of your heart.
That was freedom, and you thirsted for it.
Darling dearest, did you want wings?
Long thin feathers dipped in wax,
then dug into the blades of your shoulders.
You didn’t mind the scars,
Or the burns.
It was a drug;
the sight of the sky,
The feel of his mouth,
The lingering of his fingertips.
But darling dearest, did you know you’re only human?
And humans can’t love gods.
Darling dearest, you wanted to fly, but did you want to fall?
Hey, everyone! I created a full guide on how to get the good end for Damien! This guide includes answers to ALL his questions ranked by how happy it makes him, help for date minigames, and extra info to help get that good ending!
The full guide is under the cut - suggestions welcome!
apollo drags the sun through the sky and icarus watches. today his feet are firm on the ground but he has always been weak to eyes that burn molten orange / skin so hot to touch it sets fingertips on fire.
apollo drags the sun through the sky and icarus wants to follow. today his feet aren’t quite as firm / his body not so steady. weakness spreads like sticky honey on his tongue / it infects his lungs. every inhale burns his throat every exhale sounds like mourning.
apollo drags the sun through the sky and icarus shrugs on wings, muscles already aching.
apollo drags the sun through the sky and icarus rises / he can see apollo’s smile, already beaming, already burning.
apollo drags the sun through the sky and icarus falls
If he was honest, that would be a lie. His first memory is something mundane like his mother singing to him or watching TV with his father. But what he remembers most, brightest, strongest is this: standing on the ledge of his family’s second-story apartment balcony, gazing down at the little section of the tiny backyard Mrs. Turner has used for her garden (bushes grown up high, hopefully high enough) taking a breath, closing his eyes and leaping.
He remembers flying.
That glorious moment of weightlessness fighting gravity, when he was moving faster than light, faster than sound, the fastest thing on this planet. He was invincible.
He doesn’t remember hitting the ground, but he remembers rolling off his broken arm to stare up at the blue blue sky and thinking someday it would be his. Someday he’d never have to land.
(”He fell,” his little sister Jeanette insists with a pout when his mother comes home and panics at not finding Jim where he should be. He can hear them through the window. “He fell, Mama.”
His mama looks over the balcony and screeches, going back inside. Jeanette stares at Jim through the bars of the railing. “I didn’t fall,” he tries to say, but he’s six and the pain is finally catching up to him. He can’t feel his arm. He cries when his mother picks him up.)
Icarus: so there’s a boy, I know - you probably know the story, told a million times but this one’s different, this one is real. so there’s a boy, with the most beautiful eyes - really bright, really really blue, like the sky on the hottest day of the summer, a day so hot you can’t even wear your shirt because it feels like molten wax on your back - so you get the idea yeah? so there’s a boy, brilliant and shining, with brown skin - no wait, bronze skin, yeah bronze, like the soft color of autumn leaves that glisten in the last stray sunlight and his hair, oh god, he wears it short and it’s the softest hair I ever touched - there’s no color to describe it, blond would be too flat, brown too hard - I’d dare to say it’s golden, yeah, golden like the sun when it sets on the horizon just before dawn finally breaks the night. and so, this boy - you’re still with me? this boy, god, he’s like everything, like, I look at him and suddenly I can’t speak, I can’t breath and he’s like an interplanetary magnetic field and I feel myself drawn towards him, like I have no control over my own body as soon as he’s around. I look at him and suddenly my throat dries out and I - I feel lost inside my skin, totally and utterly useless because my bones shift inside of me and my lungs keep collapsing but every time I try to talk to him or try to get close to him my legs are failing, my voice betrays me. my body paralyzed as if I’m falling and my wings are already on bright fire, flapping shreds around me and he smiles and smiles and smiles -
(Icarus: I wish I could just go and ask him if he loves me, but I’m already falling and I fear the impact that will crash my bones)
“Think of it like this,” Apollo explains, ”when I was small, so was my world. The only sky I knew was the one at the foot of my father’s throne. But as I grew, so did my world. I soared the skies above Sparta and Athens and all I asked for became mine. To be immortal is to know that greater victories always await.”
Apollo rakes his eyes over Icarus’ beating wings, “What is it like to be mortal?”
Icarus says nothing as the gentle brush of Apollo’s fingertips leave burns along his jaw. He says nothing as his lungs fill with ash after every kiss. Nothing as his body begins to feel the weight of his wings pulling him down.
And finally, as the wings give in to the heat, and Icarus falls through the clouds, he closes his eyes and says with a smile,
“It feels like this.”
—If you have to ask, then it was never meant to be yours anyway. (i.s.)
I was born
with an ache
that cried out for flight.
I was born
to fly and to die
caught between a tower
and the glorious radiance of Apollo.
I was to die,
drowning into the arms of the ocean.
I was Icarus,
a lesson to recall,
don’t dream too big, too high,
because after the pride comes the fall.