Cecil in Eclis' Eyes
- Amelia Cha
- Jul 10, 2025
- 2 min read
Eclis’ perspective on Cecil
A flashing streak of blue.
That was what Cecil was – transitory, ever-moving, charging forward, forward, and forward again. Never even thinking to look back, she would always be pushing towards some new goal with a determined spark in her eyes. Always out of reach.
Even when they had shared their vows to be engaged, when the warmth of a thousand candles shone upon the two of them as she smiled, Eclis feared Cecil would suddenly slip away. That she would abandon him and run on to relish her life, just as abruptly as she had entered his.
As he pressed his lips onto Cecil’s hands, a gesture of worship, he had hoped time would stop then. Only an inevitable force like time would be able to halt the crashing fluidity of such an individual.
But Cecil’s transience was what made her so beautiful. When the winds of liberty and vitality flowed through her hair, she was unbound by any restraints – and the love of freedom pulsed in her blood. Eclis would not dare to hold her back.
So he did what he could – grasping on to Cecil’s hand desperately, he stared at her back, stumbling along blindly as she continued to run.
Her full name - Eclis
Cecil Cecilia Ewout.
There was a certain ringing melodious quality to that name that you had adored, that you could enunciate and listen to for hours and hours on end if she would just let you call out her name at times you needed to hear it. Of course if you were to call her name, her full name as you had wished to, she would probably let out one of her funny hearty laughs, the one that made it sound like there was some kind of middle aged, beer-bellied man living inside her stomach that got summoned whenever she started to scrunch her nose and chuckle, because she had always thought her name was the funniest thing ever.
Her first name and her middle name, both “Cecil”, waltzing together at the tip of your tongue, almost like you called out, “Cecil!” and “Cecilia!” had come echoing back. It was what she had chosen – an act of defiance against the normal custom of accepting a new first name after one’s coming of age ceremony. Her nickname had now become her first name, and her middle name, the space to store the history she had shared with her first.
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