Cielle liked to believe that she was a character of her own kind, but to be kind she chose not to 'fit in the box' , to not be defined, labelled, restrained, pulled on either sides of herself, or to be brutally honest, to pick a side.
Cielle was passively restless, even as a child, she would try to look, and pull, fit, and spill, roll, and alas hide, so she wasn't picked apart the way she so eagerly seemed to pick at the scraps of herself, blooming like a wildflower or perhaps vines, that were a cobweb of her own identity.
She'd lost her mother to cancer on the day of her 5th birthday, the same day they were supposed to be picking her up from her aunt's place for vacations. It was a rather unexpected call with a rather unexpected gift, but to be kind, yet again, she began to ask herself,
'what defines a gift?'
If gifts were to be a subjective concept, it would've meant,
'To each their own'
It would've meant,
'To each their fair share of likes and dislikes'
And before she knew it, the little girl was cornered to believe that there existed a black and white, a shade to everything. A good and a bad. The right and the wrong. Anarchy and state. There was always a side. Always two sides to the coin.
She would never openly admit she had a blank canvas, goodness my what would the kids say? What would her art tutor tell her for drawing a blank on her own imagination at such a young age? Because to them, it seemed the girl lacked a sense of purpose, belonging, security, from herself even.
She was denied of all that she perceived to be her own before it barely managed to embrace her skin.
So the five year old took matters into her own hand, she turned to her blank canvas and tore it to bits, she pierced her plum skin through the sheet, tearing it down to its core before the fabrics of it flung of into the air in ever direction.
"You can't possibly want a roll of colour over a canvas that doesn't exist, it'll be a point where your imagination ceases to exist." she found an escape route. She didn't pick a side, instead she chose to hang on by a thread, whistles and blows came her way but she hung strong, mighty, with a grip of iron over the one space she knew she wouldn't have to define herself.
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A/n: I'm still trying to set her character right it's kind of sort of mayhaps all over the place in my head I'm arbitrarily trying to collect tiny little bits of it ;p
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Capacity | neteyam x reader
Fanfiction"I tried to live in black and white but I'm so blue" - Cielle has lived the entirety of her life being cornered to pick a side or a sign to define who she is. But what if for once she wanted no rule or definition, and no bearing to her muchness? ...
