Beneath the willow tree
Lays a lark
Barking in its foul language
'The king is dead
The treachery is over'
Beneath the willow tree
Lays a cat
It gobbled the lark up
Faster than it could spit out another
Witty response
Beneath the willow tree
Lays an arrow
It flew
And pierced the cat
Its skull lays at rest
Now belonging to the hunter
But the body roams elsewhere
Before me, was a wall.
I don't know how to explain it. I don't even want to explain it. The Guard has been watching it for as long as I can remember until they all died. It stands tall, reaching across the skies, beckoning for me to come to it, to aid it in its grand massacre. Bold, powerful, with more walls behind the wall stretching across the earth, the mist that is trying to envelop us and allow us to hide.
I glance to the side, for only a short moment, where Ivanov stands. His eyes drooped, paying more attention to his revolver than the imposing threat before us, as he is all too used to this. His hair sags, entirely covering his eyes, yet unsuccessfully covering the cigar still bleeding out smoke.
In a thick accent, Ivanov finally speaks.
"What do you think is behind this?"
Of course, it took me a few moments to actually effectively decipher what he was saying- yet eventually- I just looked forth at the all and murmured a few things.
"Either hell, my mother, or something way worse than both of those."
Ivanov nodded, hopefully in approvement.
And after what felt like years of staring at it, Ivanov's eyes met mine. His dark eyes met mine, and like usual, his breath mildly stunk of alcohol and the likes.
"After this bloody hell…" He murmurs, his eyes once again drooping. "…Would you want to go for a drink?"
I chuckle, glancing away. "So you finally asked me on a date?" That earned a huff from him- and soon enough, the mood shifted back.
"Are you ready, Captain Ivanov?"
"I might be, Luetenant Harriss."
"Quinn Valkyrie, you stand before trial for the attempted assassination of K-"
"Guilty."
The room was silent, for oh, too long. Eyes all were on the flame-haired man, standing tall, before the council he swore to protect. His eyes, unwavering, his breath, rising and falling as the tide does. The shock was painted across some faces- confusion, others. This man, presumed to be a despicable murderer, just plead guilty? When does that ever, ever happen?
Yet again, you can't expect anything anymore.
"But before you do it, may I have a few words?"
The Queen nods, and glances at one of the Guards behind him.
"Let him walk." Her voice rings throughout the chamber. The criminal nods, stepping forwards even closer.
Pat.
Pat.
Pat.
The air feels thick. Thick with regret, with vengeance, with failure.
Eyes, hundreds, all of different colours and sizes, different uses, some covered with glass, some of them perfect, green, blue, brown, purple, red, all looking straight at the man who stands before gods.
His eyes, red as the sun, blink once. The Queen's eyes, stare back, gold and purely elegant.
Then a gasp. Short, without much of any other sound to it. That is all that is needed.
"That is all."
"I-I-It'll be e-easy. Effffortless even." The man stammered like the world was accustomed to. This man, despite his stutter, was overly energetic at his finest. Oliver Valkyrie. He knows when to play the game, at the very least, his brother agrees. Across the room was another man, by the name of Quinn, bearing brilliant red eyes and a taste for danger. He glanced at his brother and raised an eyebrow.
"Are you sure about this?" He quietly muttered. A whisper, to fight against Oliver's struggling shouts. Quinn's eyes glanced back to the window, as they seem to do that over and over again.
"O-of course I am," Oliver says back. His voice wavers between a shout, and just a struggle.
Every day, it feels nearer. It tries to bring me there, and I just can't stop. It feels black, empty, lulling me into silence. Trying to quiet me.
It's been 67 days since the day. I wish it never came- and I hope it won't happen to me, either. That's why I'll be better. I'll be stronger. I'll make sure that I don't end up like her, having to do that, having to end it all just so the same thing doesn't happen to me. I know she cared… it's impossible for that not to be the case, when did Joline Crane not care for her dearest Francis?
I still regret a few things I've done, my mother was even there when it happened. Theodore is infested- people hate us- hopefully, he just doesn't have to undergo the same horrific events which will happen to me, and happened to my mother, and before, and before that, and ever since we were just declared unworthy and a good way to break through reality and try to help out those beasts who want nothing to do with us. I can't exactly do much about it.. sadly.
Even throughout my mental battles, I put a smile on my face, happily swinging my feet while I stroll barefoot across the cobbled path. My dress flows behind me- a small revolver on my hip, a reminder of how far I've come in my life.
In front of me, far beyond the treeline, lie the hall. It's surrounded by zeppelins pouring out steam, the very tips of some of the towers scratching across the bright, blue sky. The building itself is floating, hundreds of feet in the air, only accessible by one of those precious floating vehicles.
