Aug 30, 2020
Terminarch | Anthropocene | 2020
UK Black Metal
https://terminarch.bandcamp.com/album/anthropocene
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Terminarch | Anthropocene | 2020
UK Black Metal
https://terminarch.bandcamp.com/album/anthropocene
Corona XVI: the Terminarch
“That was…”
“...Don’t… Say anything.” She sighed on her way down, losing the adrenaline that kept her standing.
“A-Apologies, Your Highness, but this… Is ours.”
“The… Shiny murderbots?”
“Crude dolls, ultimately, but– The trace of demonic magic should be…”
“...Obvious.” She groaned. “God, I can feel it now, too. Great.”
“How did humans appropriate our arts?”
“Don’t act too proud, you all didn’t have plumbing.”
“...T-True, however-” He blinked.
“...What?”
“Do you… Require assistance standing up?”
“I’m good. I might take a nap.”
“...On pavement?”
“Wherever. I’m half-monster now, who cares.”
“That is… Temporary.”
“...Thank god. Drag me home, then.”
"Y-Your Highness…"
"What?”
“It’s been hours, and…”
“Shut up. Just wait, I…”
She paused, holding up her phone to the artifact, before her eyes widened.
“It’s– Yes! Finally!”
“...May I ask now?”
“Wi-fi.”
“Pardon?”
“Y’know, like…”
“...Yes?”
“...You definitely don’t know, actually. Uh. It’s a wireless internet aura.”
“And, you…”
“I have it at home, but since you keep dragging me back here…”
“...I do not see the issue. You can slip into the Castle instantly.”
“Exactly! But it’s a pain in the ass. So I managed to pull something halfway through, and…”
“And…?”
“...Christ. I’m getting used to this.”
“...Goddammit.”
He faded in, inspecting her scowl. “...Something amiss, your high–”
“I’m waking up early.” She explained, teeth gritted. “And refreshed.”
“Is that… Negative?”
“Demons and tyrants are bad, yeah–” She narrowed her eyes, reaffirming her stance on his plans. “But morning people are irredeemable.”
“Erm…” He blinked. “Would you prefer your insomnia back, then…?”
“No, that sucks!” She threw her head back in frustration– Before making sure nobody heard her. “...And I like sleeping well.”
“That is… Likely ideal, in a general sense.”
“’General’…?”
“Well, your attempts to resist the morning… Succeed. The sunrise keeps being delayed.”
“Your Highness…?”
Faith sighed, tossing the book over her shoulder and leaning back on the library chair. “...Yeah?”
“May I ask what you–”
“You keep annoying me about history and legacy and whatever. I’m catching up.”
“...Of course. Why now?”
“Because I’m here? I can’t have regular dreams anymore, might as well.”
“Have you tried sleeping…?”
“What the hell do you think my body’s doing.”
“No, I… Speaking of, are you well?”
“I… Kinda. A little bit of a headache, buzzing in my ear…”
“...I see. That might be a byproduct of your alarm clock.”
“...I’m late.”
“Correct, ma’am.”
“I hope you understand now, Your Highness.”
Waves crashed under a sunless white sky. In the distance, the ruined spires loomed bright. The stone rotted. The resplendence didn’t.
“This is what is. What remains. What was taken from us.”
She sighed, shifting in place. Her hood was pulled up, and hands stuffed into her pockets. She noticed the mist of her every breath against the cold, airless wind.
“This is the cornerstone and final ruin of our people. My eternity’s work. Our legacy. Your birthright.”
The apparition remained as regal as ever, gilded silks billowing against the breeze. His every word carried a slight echo, both incorporeal and palpably heavy.
“And now…”
“Hey.” She glanced over, staring into his glowing translucent eyes.
“...Your Highness?”
“Do you ever shut the fuck up?”
“I… Do not understand.”
“Surprise, surprise.” She muttered, checking if the passenger next seat was sleeping. “...What’s wrong?”
“This seems like… A communal carriage.”
“...A bus, yeah. So what?”
“Why are you here?”
She paused, staring up dumbfoundedly. Standing up and strangling the apparition was out of the question.
“...Your Highness…?”
“...Just shut up. For once?”
“Of course.” He nodded. “...Though, even so–”
She groaned.
“I do not see why you’d subject yourself to mingling with commoners– human commoners, instead of arranging personal transport.”
“I don’t have money.” She sank in her seat.
“That could be corrected.”
“...For real?”