-Break-
ΦGheorghe Dumitrescu, the name of the 2nd son of Veekeeris Dumitrescu, the name I was given as I was born to walk on this horrifying planet. I am 10 years younger than my elder brother, who stands as the leader of the Cursed Sea Army.
The Cursed Sea Region is the origin of the dominance of Blestemate. Throughout our early years, our population was scattered, our military malformed, our land fruitless. So we had only one way to survive, to take to the seas. The first Nightmares within the land knew their curses were horrific, but helpful. Lots of people gained curses that allowed them to live underwater, and they gathered together, hatching a plan. They took to the seas and used their superior abilities in the water to hunt massive amounts of food, and explored the lands no humans could reach in an era where people still had to row boats.
They conquered the sea and built a navy that could take on the rest of the world by itself. Innovating massively by forming ships that could move underwater through the use of wonderbeasts' carcasses and cursed items. The strength of their navy was so strong that they were responsible for both the stabilisation of Molstoria during the fallout of the creation of Fimbulwinter, as well as being the foundation on which the Rinastcean military was built. The pride and joy of the country, which has both protected and empowered the people through generations, and the brave shipwrights who built and maintain this navy, along with the sailors who set out to sea and take the world by storm, are among the bravest and strongest Nightmares in the world.
And my father, a man who descends from the first of those Nightmares, stands at the top of the region. He wishes to keep the navy as strong as possible, seeing it as the spear that will be most useful in destroying future enemies against our people, and has personally increased the training standard required to be a member of the Cursed Sea Army.
To him, holding such titles is something only the strongest, bravest, and most greedy should attain, those with immense amounts of pride that will never yield to the unbound power of the sea. My brother is one of those people, and I am not. Despite my stature, I am filled with fear. The sea scares me, people scare me, my own strength scares me, all into uselessness. When I look at the sea, all I see is a giant beast that consumes whatever it wants, regardless of its characteristics. Making me utterly unable to set sail. Yet I am no more useful as a shipwright or a soldier. The pressure and intensity that everyone puts into maintaining their craft is too intense for me, and my large overbearing hands end up crushing whatever I hold out of anxiety, and as my fist moves towards another human the idea of my scales ripping their flesh and exposing their blood all over my body weakens me to the point were my punch might as well be a love tap.
When faced with all of this, I lower my head, which still hangs high above everyone in front of me and say, "Sorry." Again and again until I feel even a little bit liberated from the pain within.
I was a failure at everything I tried to do, and my father wouldn't take it; he wouldn't abide by it and would scream, "STOP BEING A COWARD AND FACE THE BATTLES IN FRONT OF YOU!"
I was, I was trying my best, yet in the end, I kept failing; I couldn't do anything. I was blessed with this strong body, yet I couldn't put it to use; I couldn't honour my father or my people.
So I spent my days running from my duties, and decided to collect clams from the seashore. I gathered up a particular cursed one, a clam that no matter how much force I exerted on it wouldn't break.
At first, I just played with it to take out my frustration, but little by little, I was able to use it to get better control of my body. I learnt to concentrate my mind and body on a task, and I learnt the limits of the power stored within me. I gained a bit of confidence, and it was thanks to the clams, so I found quite a few of them and started collecting them. It was the only thing in my life that allowed me to feel normal, even a bit, but even that was something I was not born to have.
As I lay with my body in a crater against the wall of my house, I look forward at my small father walking towards me. Grabbing my head and pulling me close, he holds a clam in front of my face. He says, "You have been skipping out on your duties to do this? To play with a bunch of seashells like a fucking child. Come on, explain yourself."
With a weak voice that can barely emit sound, I say, "I wasn't playing."
"What's with that tone? Speak up, you good-for-nothing! Or even when disgraced, can you not talk up for yourself at all? This is why they make fun of you behind doors, this is why they call the second son of Veekeeris a destined failure. By your age, your brother was already sailing, and even at 9 years old, you're already 178 cm due to your curse; you have no excuse, child."
"I'm sorry."
Grabbing my mouth, he smashes my face into the wall again, then says, "I can't hear you, but I know those lip movements, you fool. Do you really think now is the time to apologise? You should be changing your ways, but even when your head is beaten into a wall, all you can do is cry and beg for forgiveness. I have had enough of this weakness, and I will be doing away with it myself."
He smashes the clam in his hands, and as he does, I feel like my soul leaves with it. Why would he do this? Why would he take that from me? Why does he look down on me so? Why can't he be kind to me? Why must he hit me? I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hates this all!
Yet despite it all, my mouth never opens, it never speaks, I can't even utter a single word. Because I am a coward, now and forever more.
-Break-
Φ Wadim Ceaușescu, the name of the 1st son of Vėja Ceaușescu, the name I was given as I was born to walk on this over-tuned planet. I am the eldest of four siblings, two boys, two girls, and have achieved nothing to earn the title of the elder.
The Cursed Sky Region is the angelic wings that bind all of Blestemate. Set up at the eastern edge of the Beast's Claw, the vast majority of our people live in the Ocrotirea Lui Dumnezeu mountain range. When Blestemate first formed, all our land was altered into warped forms, and it was those blessed with the ability to fly who scoured the land, finding those stuck in horrible circumstances as well as surveying all that had changed.
With their superior information-gathering ability, they helped coordinate our changing ways of life, allowing us to have some semblance of peace. Yet those wings didn't just stop there. They'd work with each and every Nightmare they could to help them avoid and defend against invading humans who would come to end their lives and rob their flesh, for most in the giant untamed land of Blestemate, they were the only lifeline that was accessible.
Over time, they became the heart of logistics within the entire country and protected us from our enemies abroad. Though this was intense work. Not only did they have to know the ever-changing location of people within a cursed land, they also had to keep up with all the work of every other region, as well as defending our eastern border from humans who spent their entire lives innovating new ways to hunt us. A single inefficiency could cost lives, and so none were allowed to exist. For the people within the Cursed Sky Region, especially the rulers, had to be perfect, and my mother, raised by the Ceaușescu family, the family that had always been at the head of the Cursed Sky Region, never ever faltered under any circumstances.
She spoke perfectly, she walked perfectly, she could fight perfectly, and she could coordinate every last bit of our systems perfectly. To the people of Blestemate, the term inefficiency was disconnected from her very life, with a single exception. Me.
The Ceaușescu family had strict training requirements for all the children raised in the family. Days of studying to increase my knowledge of all the systems within the country, as well as countless classes and internships to improve my reasoning, communication, data analysis, critical thinking, problem solving, planning, organisational, and leadership skills, etc. Despite the riches that came with being the leaders of the region, many said each Ceaușescu was trained like a slave to understand complete their job efficiently. It was gruelling work, but they had always risen to the challenge: my brother, my sisters, my mother, even my father, when he married into the family; all were able to keep up with it, but I wasn't.
No matter how much I read, my brain would get distracted, causing me to take twice the time to learn as everyone else. It would happen again, and again even during my internships, I would forget to talk to someone, I would skip over a piece of data, I would take an extra 30 minutes to think of a solution, I would use some words that people didn't understand causing me to repeat myself, my plans only looked three weeks ahead, instead of three months head.
I was trying my best again, and again, but it always felt short of the insane perfection that they had all asked for. Even if I was better than everyone else, unless I could reach that standard, I was a failure. Yet when I brought this up to my mother, she would say, "You need to apply yourself. You are biologically the same as us; it is possible. Just engross yourself more until your brain becomes one with the task at hand. You're still young, but if you don't start trying harder, your siblings are going to start getting lazy, and they are doing better than you already."
She never gave me kindness, she never examined the craziness of what I was asked to do, she just told me to keep going. So I did, I studied, and worked again, and again until my very hands were cracking from all the work put against them. Yet in the end, my body couldn't keep up, and I collapsed in the middle of an important project. And when I awoke, I saw her in front of me, standing beside my bed with disappointment in her eyes.
"Are you that foolish? You know this was an important project, yet you barely took any care of your health while doing it. Please use your brain while you work, my son. I cannot deal with this foolishness anymore," She said with a tired tone, as if my health was a bother to her.