Post by Sleeves on Mar 4, 2014 17:23:39 GMT
048
His earliest memories are of neglect. A mess of noise and children. Mother is always busy with his older, louder and more demanding siblings. No one notices Daedarus, standing in the corner with dirty clothes that are much too small.
No one notices Daedarus, not until his Magic causes all the windows in the house to break.
Mother is terrified. One hand covers her mouth and the other her heart. Blue eyes wide and tearful. His siblings hide behind her legs, clutching the hem of her dress. But theirs is an ignorant fear. They cannot possibly understand the severity of the situation.
Father is furious. He grabs Daedarus’s arm and throws him to the ground. There is hatred in his eyes and on his tongue and in his clenched fists. Father just stands there, yelling, and Daedarus wishes the man would just hit him already because anything is better than these poisonous words.
Dim.
Nothing burns or cuts or stings quite as much. Nothing scars as much.
Daedarus is only a small child but already he knows the feeling of resentment. Anger he is intimate with, desperation he has experienced, loneliness, jealousy, fear—these, too, he understands. But not love. Love escapes him.
His earliest memories are of this.
I don't approve of excusing a villain's actions using a 'tragic' past, but I do believe in using backstory as an explanation for certain behaviors. This being said, I do not think that Daedarus's childhood excuses or explains the way that he is. There is a delicate balance between nature and nurture that can be found inside all of us, and I will hold that Daedarus was born as one of those individuals who are just meant to shape the world to their whim. I don't know how different he would have turned out growing up in a loving home, but I have a feeling he would only be slightly less depraved.
Childhood
His earliest memories are of neglect. A mess of noise and children. Mother is always busy with his older, louder and more demanding siblings. No one notices Daedarus, standing in the corner with dirty clothes that are much too small.
No one notices Daedarus, not until his Magic causes all the windows in the house to break.
Mother is terrified. One hand covers her mouth and the other her heart. Blue eyes wide and tearful. His siblings hide behind her legs, clutching the hem of her dress. But theirs is an ignorant fear. They cannot possibly understand the severity of the situation.
Father is furious. He grabs Daedarus’s arm and throws him to the ground. There is hatred in his eyes and on his tongue and in his clenched fists. Father just stands there, yelling, and Daedarus wishes the man would just hit him already because anything is better than these poisonous words.
Dim.
Nothing burns or cuts or stings quite as much. Nothing scars as much.
Daedarus is only a small child but already he knows the feeling of resentment. Anger he is intimate with, desperation he has experienced, loneliness, jealousy, fear—these, too, he understands. But not love. Love escapes him.
His earliest memories are of this.
I don't approve of excusing a villain's actions using a 'tragic' past, but I do believe in using backstory as an explanation for certain behaviors. This being said, I do not think that Daedarus's childhood excuses or explains the way that he is. There is a delicate balance between nature and nurture that can be found inside all of us, and I will hold that Daedarus was born as one of those individuals who are just meant to shape the world to their whim. I don't know how different he would have turned out growing up in a loving home, but I have a feeling he would only be slightly less depraved.
