How long has he sat here on this stone pedestal refusing to move? Hours. It’s been hours but he doesn’t want to go back. He doesn’t want to go back to Gaudium and face them all when they undoubted watched what he did. He doesn’t want to go back when he’s positive one of them is responsible and he’s sure he knows who.
And for once, he’s also sure that His Excellency had nothing to do with it.
It’s a disgusting thought to know that the little monster only benefitted from his grief but didn’t have anything to do with summoning it. He’s positive he know which puppet master was the one pulling the strings and he feels it would only be appropriate for the man in question to have a close encounter with the Holy Blade but at the same time he doesn’t want to sully it’s surface with his touch.
Lady Tiamat deserved more respect than that.
It’s been hours. It’s been hours and he’s simply sat himself down with his knees pulled to his chest and he exists above the clouds on this singular stone pedestal, watching the sky as it rolls. White as his namesake slowly rolls through the air before him but there’s no urge to fly out and immerse himself in the yet born precipitation.
No, he sets with his head leaned against his knees and watches. How could he do it? Why was it easy? It wasn’t.
It looked that way to the onlookers surely but it was anything but easy. His words wouldn’t reach him. No matter what he said, his words wouldn’t reach his ears. That look in cherry red eyes wasn’t there before. Those eyes were anything but the ones he knew. Those eyes were anything but the ones he adored. His whole life spent trying to play catch up. His whole life running in his shadow only to soon surpass him in the matter of only a few years.
Those words are going to be something to haunt his psyche far more than anything that little beast has ever done to him. Those words are going to live in his nightmares for the rest of his days - both waking and asleep. He knows he’ll never be able to escape them nor will he ever be able to escape the constant cracking ache in his heart wondering just how much of them were influenced and just how much of them were true.
Did he really feel that way? Did he really hate him that much?
What is he supposed to do about that? How is he supposed to cope with it? He can’t simply look him in the eye and tell him “I’m sorry.”
What would that accomplish? Nothing.
It wouldn’t accomplish a thing and it would be nothing more than squandered effort and neglect to acknowledge someone else’s pain. It would be both selfish and arrogant to assume that it was all false. That it wasn’t based in something. It would be selfish and arrogant to look the other way when the Red Mist was so obviously breaking.
Shattered more like.
Brother cornered him. Brother pushed him in to a corner and he gave him no choice. He didn’t have a choice. He had to choose between the lives of everyone else and his brother and in the end Usva chose to die. He had to have known that he could best him in battle. Usva had to have known how it would all end. He bested Usva when he was fifteen, why would this be any different?
He had to have known.
He destroyed his brother’s soul. He shattered the Flare Sword with the force of his strike. There would be no coming back from that. There would be nothing left of him in this or the next plane. In any existence. Could Usva even rejoin the sky now? He doesn’t suppose he could but he wanted to believe. He wanted to believe that Lady Tiamat would still open her arms to him.
He wanted to believe that Usva’s spirit wasn’t completely lost to them all. He wanted to believe that someday when he can finally rejoin them all that his brother will be there right along with the rest of the faces he so adores. He thinks - he thinks when he is finally granted such a privilege, he would be happy if he could truly be a cloud.
That - that would be nice.
But that was nothing but a far off dream, and soon he needed to return to Gaudium lest he want them to start asking questions. Perhaps he can slip in unnoticed. Doubtful but he can try.
For now, for with a sigh - he’s got to clean up his face, fix his moping and get moving.
Even with the consequences he would likely face, he had to find a way to sneak out of the castle. Even with the debt that was already hanging over his head - it still wasn’t about to stop him from doing what needed to be done. He needed to. He needed to go to him - no matter the cost. No matter what would happen to him as a result of doing so, he needed to make sure that Testvér Szél was alright. The place he left him in had remained secret for all these years thus far but if he didn’t keep going…. If he didn’t keep sneaking out, who knows what would happen if something or someone were to find him while he was still asleep?
He couldn’t let the tree he was tied up in become too overgrown and potentially damage his form. He couldn’t let him wake and have no one there to greet him. He couldn’t let him get lonely in this wretched place. In this god forsaken Wonderland. Someone needed to be there when Szél woke to tell him what happened and let him know the nature of it all. Someone needed to be there to tell Szél what he was - what they were because no doubt with his beloved brother still living through the mess that was Windaria’s fall - the Magun’s champion - he had to be Unlimited too.
So the Little Moon would find his way to slip in and out of the castle. Whether or not he did so unnoticed was debatable, but he did so nonetheless. He was careful now. Careful to keep a mental count of the minutes that passed as to avoid running up his debt anymore than he already had. That wretched little monster could call on him at any time and still be in the right by all technicality. Even when he hadn't really done anything wrong as of late. His debt -it was - he was already drowning in it and as of late that sadistic little demon seemed to find the most joy in stealing away the prince's life personally.
Something something about the joy of light fading from his eyes… it all was blurry when the monster spoke.
So why then would he snatch away the lives of those below when there was a perfectly good toy here that one could watch writhe in agony with their own eyes? The prince was still very much drowning in past sin. Sin and moments when all he did was something so simple as to lose track of time. At this rate that beast would find a reason to slay him nearly every day or at least whenever the pink haired devil saw fit. He would be bound to this monster for eternity and it made him wonder if Testvér Szél would sleep just as long.
He didn’t mean to put him under this long. He didn’t even know he could, but yet here he flies under the cover of night again to slip off to that remote part of Wonderland where his Black Light Sun still rests. There’s no one around when he lands. There’s no one but the one who still is cast into slumber. How long would they dance to this rhythm? How long would this be their pas de deux? How long would this be the story of their lives?
He’s trying his best. He’s learning everything he can about the monster that stole away their worlds. That stole away their homes. Their homes and their families; their people and their cultures. It stole everything from them and it looked like it had its sights on their eternities. He's doing everything in his power to find this creature's weakness so when Szél finally wakes they can strike it down together once and for all.
It's a sad sight to see that face so emotionless. So calm. He looks so peaceful with blue eyes cast shut and deep red hair hanging about his face in every which way and the prince supposes for a moment it makes sense that he looks half a mess when all he's been doing is sleeping for the last seven years.
Pale hands and digging into the bag that hangs off one shoulder, only a few supplies brought with him that he could manage to sneak away from the beasts that hide within joy's façade, until he manages to produce a brush from within the fabric satchel hanging in the frame of white.
"I'm sorry I haven't come around recently." The prince remarks in a matter of fact sort of way as he shifts himself to get closer to the slumbering man before him.
"I came a little more prepared this time. I know how special your hair is, I'll make sure it doesn't become too much of a mess. It's been hard to get out unnoticed. I'm sorry Szél , I would have come sooner if I could've. Let me brush out your hair for you."
As if he really needed to get permission from he who could not answer. So pale hand work and pale lips smile. It was all he could bring himself to do to stop the tears that were begging to break the dam and start rolling down his face. It's been like this for seven years. It's been the same never changing and that damnable time limit has been hanging over his head for two years now.
Somehow, the prince wonders how he has managed to keep track of the time. The rest of it all seems to blur together. He can't tell one death from another now and they have happened so frequently now he hardly needs a day to revive. It feels never-ending. He feels trapped. He's a song bird trapped in a cage but the only notes he knew how to sing now were that of a shattered symphony composed solely of his torment and pain.
He doesn't know anything else. All the songs this bird used to sing are gone now. Forgotten melodies of a time with joy still existed within mist filled lungs. Crystal used to sparkle so vibrantly within moonlit eyes but it was growing harder and harder by the night to light the sky with his glow when the sun had yet to rise above the horizon to light the day.
It has been so long since he's been able to bask in his other's brilliance. He was starting to feel like he did when he was just a child. He was starting to feel as he did when he was on Misterica. When the Celestial Mother would whisper tales in his ear urging him to leave the safety of his home to go out on a grand journey to complete himself. To find what he was missing. To find what they were missing. To fill this empty hole in his chest that told him his being was incomplete.
He needed to find his other above all else she would tell him. Well he's found him now but yet again he remains just as empty as he ever was. Just as alone as one could possibly be.
His chest hurts now. His body aches. It's a near daily occurrence and it's a different kind of ache that is not the same kind of pain as it is when he wakes or revives. It is not the same kind of pain as when that demonic child twists and bends his form whatever which way he so desires. He's died before. He's died so many times and he's lost track of them all. He doesn't know how to make sense of it anymore. He doesn't know how to save his sanity - or at the very least whatever was left of it.
"I'm sorry, Szél ." He sounds with a meek voice filled with the smallest tremble to his words. "I'm sorry I didn't mean for this to happen."
His eyes burn as pale hands slowly work the brush within them down the length of the elder's river of deep red. His eyes burn and his waterline grows irritated. His eyes burn as he finds himself chewing on his bottom lip and his mind floods with memories. Memories of this man. Memories of his sister. Memories of a home long gone. Memories of a home long destroyed.
It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair what that beast took from them. With little care and no remorse, it tore their worlds away. His home was gone now. His true home and the new one he managed to forge with this man and his sister. When all hope seemed lost he found a pair made of blue suns and red skies that welcomed green moons into their home to complete their celestial trio.
It wasn't fair. What did they ever do to that beast to deserve having their homes ripped away? What did they ever do to have the Gods curse them so thoroughly? It seemed that Szél was just as undying as he was. It seemed that they were both cursed men. It's been seven years now and Szél still will not wake.
So it's hard. It's hard to stop the dam from breaking. It's hard to hold back the crystal that begs to race over porcelain skin and soon the depth of the prince's loneliness is rushing down his features as he continues to work the knots out of the length of his Sun's hair. It’s all he has left. It’s the only friend he knows and he hates that fact he knows he’s going to pay for this when he returns to the castle if only for the fact that despite slipping out potentially unnoticed, every tear that races down in his face is the same sweet taste as candy to that demonic beast made of pale and pink. There is no way that it’s all gone unnoticed now.
Now he’ll get called to that room without a doubt. Now there will be questions. Now there will be demands. Now there will be inquiry into what could shatter that monster’s favorite toy so completely that whatever it was would cause him to shed tears. Only ever once in his time in this damable place has the Misterican shed tears. Even through the pain. Even through the broken bones and fractured spirit. Even though the soundless screams. Even through the blood. Even through it all, Valkoinen Pilvi has only ever cried once.
Once when he realized that this beast truly saw him for all he was and that he could hide nothing. It didn’t matter how many times he swallowed the sorrow or the pain, this beast saw what was hiding behind stone dead jade eyes. That’s all he could be now. He could be nothing else and he needed to sever whatever connection he still held to his own heart but it was hard. It was so hard when you’re working to care for the near lifeless form of your only family. It’s harder when you know full well that this near dead state was your own fault.
Loneliness is all he has now and he was the one who dug his own grave with a simple exhale of his breath. He damned himself. He does this to himself. He does this to himself all the time and then he has the nerve to get upset about it. He has the gall mourn a family he cast down himself. What an arrogant creature he is.
Isn’t that what His Excellency is always telling him? That’s he is the most arrogant creature he’s ever met and perhaps he’s right. Perhaps the small King of Wonderland saw the Lost Prince with different eyes that didn’t so much pity his circumstances. Perhaps it would just be better if - better if -
Hands have stopped working. Tears are falling down in a crashing storm of pent up emotions he’s been unable to release in all these years. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to keep up living in this solitude with such monsters as the ones who lived within Joy’s deception. How is he supposed to do this? He told himself he needed to kill his own heart to survive and he thought he had but seeing Szél set here like this - unflinching, unmoving for seven years is too much for his heart to bear.
It was horrible after the first day and he worried that he had already not made it back in time. Four days had passed due to the beating he took for the very first time he pulled this running off stunt and he worried every second after he woke that he had already failed his family and not made it back to his other’s side in time for him to wake. But Szél still slept. Every time he managed to sneak away and to his counterpart the man in black slept. Every time he managed to slip out to come to this place - his counter was still cast to slumber and the Snow White Prince of Misterica was still very much alone.
He heard sayings before between the palace workers and guards about how Mother would always grow so dreary when Father was away. He always would stop and ask Revon or Opettaja about it and he can still hear Opettaja Valo explaining to him
“Well of course, Her Majesty is upset. The Moon always misses The Sun.”
And he never completely understood then. He always thought it was just a tease on their names. He always thought it was just because of course Mother would miss her husband but he never understood the depth of the saying before. Opettaja wasn’t the only one who he ever heard say it. Revon said it once to him too during a storm with deep dark clouds that filled the skies with dark blues and eerie greens that left him feeling uneasy. It blocked out the sun and kept the skies in a deep darkness all day, but when it finally cleared the moon was nowhere to be found in the sky. He’d been seven then. He was seven and Revon was the only one around. He can remember it well because he was holding onto that man’s hand for all he was worth when he asked.
“Revon, why won’t the moon come out?”
Pink eyes fixed on him as he saw that man smile behind his mask and deep voice rumbled in the most comforting but firm of ways.
“Highness, the moon will rise again but it needs to rest for now. It cannot rise when it is feeling sad. The sun was not out all day. “
He remembers. He remembers squeezing Revon’s hand as hard as he could because he didn’t understand. He didn’t understand how the moon of all things could feel sad. So large, wide, curious and confused, jade eyes looked up at his elder and the boy of snow asked.
“The moon is sad? How is the moon sad? Revon, that doesn’t make sense. The moon is just a moon.”
His hand squeezed back before it was released and that was one of those rare moments that his guard brought himself down to his knees to kneel before the small prince so he could properly look him in the eyes with hands upon his shoulders.
“Highness, the sun and the moon are very special. They are kind enough to bring us light and warmth but they are also spirits of the sky. They are very special guides that the Celestial Mother has given us and they are the very best of friends. So when the sun does not come out, the moon gets very sad that they could not see their friend.
Even if they are up at opposing times of day they get to see each other twice every day when one of them wakes and the other goes to sleep. The sun is the moon’s very best friend, but the sun was not out today because of the storm so the moon is just feeling very sad and lonely. It will come back another day, it just needs time to rest.”
And he understood it now. He didn’t understand it then but now he gets it. He gets it because he can feel the breaking ache in his chest where his heart should be. He doesn’t know if he has one anymore because he feels empty all over again. He feels empty like he did when the Celestial Mother first took his form. He feels empty like when she became a part of him but suddenly there was an ache in every part of his body as if his form was broken and he was missing the pieces he needed to put himself back together.
He doesn’t know if the pieces to make himself whole again even exist any longer. He doesn’t know how to contend with this rumbling emptiness that consumes him but even as it does, his hands are fishing into that fabric satchel again to pull out a small bottle filled with water and a small palely colored cloth. He’s pouring the water out slowly so as to not spill it. He’s working to dampen the tip of the cloth in his hands and once the task is complete, he’s careful to re-cap the bottle and shift himself even closer to the unmoving form before him. His hands are shaking as he works. Slowly, with an unsteady grip does the weeping prince work. Softly wiping the fabric over tanned skin to wash away any layers of dirt that have accumulated from sitting in one place and sleeping for nearly a decade. It’s been nearly a decade. He’s twenty-seven now. It’s been a decade since they met. He’s hardly the boy this man met all that time ago and he’s hardly the boy that stood at his side when that beast of darkness decided it was going to set its sights on Windaria.
It’s been seven years since he’s seen those blue eyes open and look at him affectionately - or really with any sort of emotion at all. It’s been seven years and the weight of it all has finally crashed down upon his shoulders and it’s finally in this moment that he truly understands because this Little Moon is feeling awfully lonely.
The Sun is the Moon’s very best friend and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever see his Sun awake again and it’s all his fault.
All he can do is keep him alive. All he can do is keep coming to take care of him. All he can do is keep sneaking out to him no matter the consequence.
The Sun is the Moon’s very best friend and this Little Moon feels so empty without him. How is he supposed to survive without his other like this?
He doesn’t know - so he finishes his work just as quickly as he’s able. A clean face. The Magun wiped free from any filth that’s come to cling to it. Freshly brushed hair and then pulled back into its usual style again. It’s all he can do. It’s all he can do and he can only hope that if he’s not here when Szél wakes, it’ll be enough for the man to hear the words I love you in his absence.
“Rakastan Sinua.” He sounds in a tongue he has long since stopped speaking out of fear of getting punished for doing so. “Rakastan Sinua, Szél.”
His hand reaches out to softly brush through long red locks that frame a sleeping face. He still feels warm. He still hears a strong heart roaring from within the Magun. He can still feel breath being pulled in and puffed out when he holds his hand close to a tanned nose. He’s still alive. Szél is still very much alive but for some reason The Sun is refusing to rise even when the Moon comes calling to him.
The sun is refusing to rise and it has been such a long time since he had. The sun is refusing to rise and as such the moon once again shall be new in the Wonderland sky tonight, just as it had been every night since the prince’s first days in this land of what once was.
That’s all he had left to his name now. What once was.
The flight back to the castle is a sorrowful one. There were no promises to the other man to return to him. No, not this time. He doesn’t want to promise something and have it turn out to be a lie. There were no promises of his return. There were no sweet good-byes. There’s nothing sweet about this anymore. There’s nothing pretty about this and he can’t keep telling him that he’ll be back as soon as he can because one of these days eventually that little devil is going to get so sick of him running off, he’s going to get tired of enforcing the debt upon his shoulders that he does something drastic. So all the prince can do is hold his breath and hope that day doesn’t come any time soon.
His feet land on the marble floors of the castle halls leading out the airways and he sighs as he does. Mask donned, the mist that escapes him strikes against it and dies before it ever reaches the air and it seems that not even that will be able to escape now. Shoulders slump down and moonlit eyes shine dully as the snow-like spirit begins to carry himself inside. Defeat makes his form. He’s a bird returning to his cage once again but he no longer has any more songs to sing. Not for this lifetime and not for the next.
He’s slow as he allows himself to slink back inside the deceptive cover of joy’s surroundings hoping that he wasn’t noticed. He’s tired and he feels like he’s been out all night. It’s amazing how much energy crying can consume. It’s amazing how exhausting weeping can be when one hasn’t done so in quite some time but it all just became so overwhelming in that moment and no longer could he keep it all at bay.
‘I’m sorry, Szél - I know - The blade does not weep - but you once said it was allowed to. I wish you would have told me that now.’
It’s a vain wish he keeps in the deepest hold of his mind, a private hope that he dares not speak into light. He can only imagine the myriad of questions that would come crashing his way like a flood if anyone heard him speak a name that none of them knew. Worse yet, Oscha or that plant witch. She would most certainly would have draped herself over him and started in on the flirtatious interrogation the moment she saw him.
It seems as though he's gone unnoticed. At least by His Excellency’s precious Lords. So he does the only thing his body wants to do at the moment and he allows himself to bring his form just above the castle floor as he floats off to the corners of the massive fortress that have been assigned as his own chambers. It’s the only place he feels even half safe and the prince is quick to let himself fall face first into the bed pushed up in the corner off the room, perched decently high off the ground. For now, - for now all the swordsman wished to do was sleep.
And sleep he did - for several hours - the entire night and nearly half the next day in fact. The swordsman let himself fall into one of the deepest slumbers he’d been in since he came to this wretched place - but nowhere near as deep as Tanári Szél. If only he could sleep as deeply as Szél was. He would never wake up again and part of him would be okay with that. Part of him would be okay if he just spent the rest of his days in a state of suspended animation. That would be better than whatever hellscape the mess of this Wonderland was.
“Lord Makenshi.”
He can hear the sound of his title ringing through his dreams and it sounds more annoyed than he is used to hearing that voice ever being. He knows it. He knows it and it’s warped his dreams into a mess of things it never had the business being. He was busy. He was busy having a proper lesson with Opettaja, can’t they just go away?
It’s reality cutting through the fantasy of safety that his mind is trying to weave for him. He’s setting in the palace library with Opettaja Valo having a proper conversation about appearance of the Goddess Language and the history of its context when Opettaja’s voice shifts and it twists and it becomes that of a man he knows well for doing unnerving things like invading his personal space with little to no care for how he feels about it.
It’s a name he never ever wants to hear come out of Opettaja’s mouth ever again… and in a mesh of voices that is his own but at the same time isn’t.
“Lord Makenshi, His Excellency is calling for you.”
A groan and a shift as the Misterican raises the back of his hand to his eyes to rub them as he subconsciously calls for his mask to draw over his face. The body of white is moving to set up slowly, eyes opening with hesitance as jade looks out to the blurry picture before him and sure enough the mime of a man has somehow found a way to greet him by hanging out of his ceiling so that he can curve his unnaturally flexible body to get right up into the prince’s still adjusting vision.
“Lord Makenshi, His Excellency has been calling for you for nearly two hours and is quite cross.”
The swordsman groans again, hands reaching up to rub his eyes once more while he continues to shift to get out of bed.
“Then why didn’t you wake me, Oscha?” Is his only response to the statement, knowing that at the very least no one can accuse him of leaving today when he’s been doing nothing more than lazily laying in bed for most of it.
“We tried Lord Makenshi. You’ve been as dead as a kőrönk all day. No one has been able to rouse you. It’s nearly the end of the day, and His Excellency requests you join himself, and the rest of the Lords for dinner. So I suggest you gather yourself quickly because he’s grown rather impatient with you.”
The prince is still rubbing at his face as he listens, raising a hand to nonchalantly wave off the puppeteer that is hanging in his face.
“Yes. Sorry. I apologize. Please tell him, I’m coming. I’ll be there in a moment, Oscha.”
And he wonders to himself for a moment if that could be true, or if it’s just an excuse to get him alone and yell at him later. The idea of dinner with the circus that is Gaudium’s court doesn’t exactly sound appetizing but then again where is his choice in the matter? There never is one, so like the good little pet that he is, he rolls himself out of bed - adjusts his appearance as quickly as he’s able and makes his way to the dining hall where he’s positive everyone is already waiting for him.
It’s not a long walk but it feels like one. Everything feels like a long walk in this hellscape. Sure enough there they are all seated at the table - Herba, His Excellency and Fungus has even come to join them. Oscha stands just to His Excellency’s right who only looks at him with a piercing gaze. Herba is smiling at him with wide painted lips as she waves him over and motions to the chair next to her.
“ ‘kenshi-darling.” She practically purrs at him. “Come sit by me.”
And her command is much too reminiscence of a time when she said those words to him long before the castle was as quite as lively as it is now. He’s sat at this table with the three of them before but never the four and he half wonders if something is up. Something has to be happening for His Excellency to gather them all here together like this. So he can only sigh and drop his shoulders a little as he makes his way across the room to take his seat down next to her. It’s not the place he wants to be but only Oscha and Herba sat at His Excellency’s sides - the right and left respectively, but really he’s rather set by Fungus than set by her.
Though he supposes either way he’ll be setting next to a creature that gives off a rather potent amount of unpleasant aura. Pollen and perfume or Mildew and Musk - either was a rather miserable choice. She’s practically tugging on his arm as soon as he takes his seat. She’s pulling at him and pushing her hand into his. She’s reaching over to put her hand on the side of his face and turn him to look at her. A look in red eyes he doesn’t like and a smile on painted lips that only speaks of wicked things. He’s known this woman for seven years now and she’s never done a single pleasant thing in concerns to him. He doesn’t trust her and probably never will.
Still she’s practically purring at him again. “ ‘kenshi-baby take that silly thing off. Let me see your pretty face. You can’t eat with that thing on anyway. It’s dinner time you, silly boy. You slept all day. “
He can only sigh but still ignores her request for the removal of his mask as he looks about the table. Jade stops on pale blue and he can see what's in that gaze more than any of the others probably can. A silent command to obey and no words need to be said for the thin metal to split down the middle at his mental commands and it slips itself back behind his ears and back to its resting place hidden within fluffy white hair.
His senses are assaulted the minute he does. A mix of pollen and mildew just as expected practically diving down his nose and racing down his throat as soon as he takes a breath. His lungs burn at the sensation of the substances going to war with the mist vapors that reside within them. He feels like he's choking on air and a cough escapes him whether he wants it to or not. His Excellency's eyes are on him the minute he does so. Still the Misterican cannot stop his body's natural function as his hand raises to his chest, and it rests flat palm there for a moment as he coughs again.
His moniker doesn't need to be said for the swordsman to hear it anyway, so he draws in a deeper breath and works to settle his lungs then he moves his chair away from the overly perfumed plant woman if for no other reason than to find some clearer air to breathe. On the flip side of it all he can feel the Fungus like man's eyes on him with sheer confusion. He might have been accepted into Gaudium's fold years ago but the two hardly associate.
"Herba don't sit so close to Makenshi."
A sharp order rolls off the miniature Lord's tongue without pause.
"You know his lungs are delicate."
“You’re obviously bothering the poor lad.” The Fungus man sounds. “Makenshi, come sit by me. If that is alright with His Excellency.” There’s a pause in the offer and then a glance towards the pink haired devil at the head of the table, who only nods in his direction.
“I’ll allow it.”
And the Misterican is fleeing the minute he’s given permission to do so. The Fungus-like man might have had a rather pungent smell to him but at least it wasn’t an over abundance of pollen going to war with the vapor in his lungs. It wasn’t the burning sensation that left his chest feeling like a forest fire and his throat feeling like a desert. The swordsman settles himself down into the seat next to his temporary savior and does nothing more than keep his head down for the moment. Not only did he get him away from that woman but he also had prevented her from proceeding to touch him without permission whenever she felt like it.
It’s only now that he can look around the table and try to figure out just what is going on. It’s only now that he can look about the room and take in the faces and realize that something was wrong. There were five places at the table not including that demonic brat and one chair - now the one setting next to Herba was empty.
There was an empty chair at the table and no soul to fill it and that just wasn’t right. His Excellency did not like things like empty places or unfilled chairs. His Excellency wanted order in Wonderland and with order came perfection and perfection was not achieved with unfilled places at the table.
Something was going on. This wasn’t just any gathering to have them all set down and eat dinner together for once. His Excellency has gathered them all here together for a reason.
“I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve asked you all here.” That brat finally breaks the silence. “Today is a show of Gaudium moving forward as I’ve enlisted a new member.” He continues in that nasally voice that could only make nails clawing down a chalkboard sound like music. “I wanted you all here today to welcome him into the group - so do come in and join your new companions.”
The sound of heels clicking against marble floors fills the space of the dining hall and every set of eyes present proceeds to look towards the door of the room. There is a man - at least he thinks it’s a man - standing there. A strange looking creature walking proudly and boldly into the space of the room with a cape swaying behind him as he makes his entrance and it’s not until he’s standing before the other end of the table does the creature speak.
“I am Pist Shaz XI, Ruler of the Seas and you all are lucky to have me.”
His Excellency’s hand raises, motioning to this newcomer.
“This is Lord Pist. He is our newest member of the Lords of Gaudium. He’s served me for many years, so I hope you all make him feel welcome. Lord Pist, this is Herba - Oscha - Fungus - and Makenshi. They are your fellow Lords, I hope you treat them with respect.”
There are large red eyes looking about the lot of them before a webbed hand raises and with an extending finger the man seems to point through each and every one of them before he stops on the Misterican last. With half sounding confusion in his voice he sounds.
“Your Excellency, I beg your pardon but I was under the impression it was the Four Lords of Gaudium but there are five of us here.”
That demonic child’s face hardly finches as he motions a hand towards the Misterican who’s head drops on an unspoken command.
“Oh, Makenshi is not a Lord.” The Tyrant sounds in a very matter of fact sort of tone. “But he is extremely important to me, so I expect you will still treat him with the utmost respect.”
The man is making a face at the notion before he sits down in the only empty chair next to that damnable plant witch, directly across from the swordsman in question. She’s leaning on him near instantly, a grin on painted lips as she purrs.
“ ‘kenshi-baby isn’t a Lord like we are, but he’s His Excellency’s favorite.”
And there’s somewhere in the back of the swordsman’s mind that wishes she hadn’t said that. He watches as the fish-like man, who’s only brought the overwhelming stench of salt to the table, practically tears his arm back away from the woman as the glaring firing in his direction only intensifies.
There is no time for a staring contest to commence however as the Misterican is quick to drop his own gaze to the place before him and above all eye contact with the other man and soon the Patissier is bringing tonight’s meal. He can smell it, and none of it smells all too appetizing but he has to eat something or he won’t eat at all. The meal is overall quiet. Which honestly is normal, only Herba chatting away with their newest member trying to learn all she can about him. She’s not being met with much of a welcoming attitude from the man however.
He’s shutting her down at nearly every pass and all the Misterican can do is focus on the task. Eat what is given him. Drink what is provided, keep his head down and return to his quarters without incident. He doesn’t even dare ask what the meal is comprised of because something tells him he wouldn’t like the answer. It’s the drink that has him the most intrigued however. It floods his system going down and it leaves him feeling warm every place it touches. His stomach and his throat are just the same - a slight burning sensation while his cheeks buzz and he can feel a heat growing behind them that has to be the most pleasant thing he’s felt since he got to this godforsaken land.
He can feel heat stretching across his face, over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Even the tips of his ears feel warm. He’s feeling awfully tired for sleeping all day. He feels his eyes hanging half lidded as he looks around the room again and he can see that pink haired brat grinning at him. Herba however is wearing a look of actual concern, while the new man - Pist was his name right? Has a look of utter disgust in his direction.
“ Makenshi-baby, are you feelin’ alright?” The plant witch sounds out her thoughts as the Misterican starts to wobble in place. A high sounding hiccup leaves him for a moment as jade eyes blink once, then twice and then a third time.
The swordsman however says nothing in return as he continues to wobble within the space of his seat a little more than he was before, the sway of his body becoming a little more apparent by the second. Fungus has turned his attention to the body of white next to him with concern covering his features as well.
“Makenshi?” He sounds “Are you … well?”
Again he says nothing, but not for the lack of trying. His lips part but nothing leaves them and soon the swordsman is moving an arm forward towards the table as if to catch himself but instead the body of snow takes the place on the table sat before him to the floor right along with his own form.
The Earl groans at the display and pale eyes shift over the mime of a man to his left with a frown hanging on pale lips.
“Oscha.” He sounds out shortly. “Help Makenshi to his quarters will you? It seems he cannot compose himself.”
“Certainly, Your Excellency.” There is an one arm raised over his chest bow before the dual toned man moves over to the body of white to find the swordsman passed out on the floor. It’s been made apparent to the entire group that the boy has no tolerance for a few spirits it seems. Still the masked man gathers the swordsman up from the floor, glances back to the pink haired ruler and is given all the information he needs from that single exchange.
There’s a groan as he wakes, blurry eyes meeting pitch black as they open. Everyone else is gone or they’ve moved him from them. He doesn’t remember what happened. All he knows is his entire body hurts as he moves. The world shifts with him and his head screams while he brings himself to set up from wherever he was laying and honestly it felt hard and cold enough to be the floor. It would be easier to tell where he was if everything wasn’t so dark.
He moves again, pulling his legs up towards himself and there is the sound of jingling metal as he does. Slowly he moves again and the sound repeats and jade green eyes are closing once only to open a glowing white. He feels it. He feels it and he sees it - the metal cuff wrapped around his right ankle - and it’s attached to a chain.
Wherever he was, whoever put him here - they really didn’t want him to leave. Slowly he moves his right leg again, pulling it towards himself if only to try to see the length of the chain and where its source was. Its links shift and jingle as he does so. It’s not a very long chain so it doesn’t allow him much room to move and it seems unless he does something about it, he’s stuck here on the floor of this room he’s never been in before. Is he even in the castle? Did something happen? He was at the table with all the others and his memory cuts short and he can’t remember anything else. He was merely eating the dinner provided to him before this happened but he can’t say his stomach seems too happy about it.
Regardless. If he doesn’t do something about this chain, he’s not going anywhere so his right hand raises, first two fingers extended and he pulls it back level just over his shoulder and
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
His body locks solid at the voice’s words. He knows that voice and he’d know it anywhere when he heard it. He freezes, hand still frozen in the position to cast his spell. A single swing of his arm forward and a blade formed from mist would cut through whatever he asked but instead the prince finds his entire form unwilling to move.
“I suppose this means I should have done something about your hands. I’ll remember that.”
Every step towards him is hell. Every step feels like it’s signaling doom. Every step sounds like it’s a bell tolling in the time of his death and there isn’t a single thing he can do about it. Soon there is the shadow of a small silhouette standing before him and for once that demonic toddler is not perched within his throne. There’s a frown hanging on his lips and fury in his eyes. He’s seen the demon upset before but never like this.
“I’m at my limit with you, Little Cloud.” Comes a voice so even in tone it makes his blood run cold and it makes him wonder if this is the limit, then what comes next? Will he kill him for good this time? He doesn’t expect him to set here in this would be shadowed tomb for the rest of time, does he? No, honestly - that is probably exactly what he expects.
“I have tried to show you nothing but kindness. I have tried to look out for you, and I have made it so you want for nothing. You have a roof over your head, food in your belly and a place to rest your head and yet it’s never enough. I even allowed you to leave the castle as long as you return in proper time but yet you continue to break the rules over and over with little regard for others except yourself. When does it stop? When does it end? How many lives will you throw away in your selfish greed?”
That creature of rotten candy and festering spite is walking around him in a circle now. One step and then another with his hands folded behind his back while he lectures him like a disappointed parent.
“So now I’m at my limit. You ran off again, Little Cloud and don’t you dare lie to me. I know when you’re lying. I can feel your fear. Something made you not just cry last night but weep. What was it? I have let your escapades slide long enough. You will tell me where you went this time or there will be consequences, and fix your eyes. I don't like it.”
The first thing the Misterican does in response is blink. Jade returns where white once was and his sight into the darkness vanishes with it. Now he can only see shapes moving into the darkness, and rely on his ears to give distance and location. Does he tell the truth this time? Does he finally cave and give up Szél to this monster? If he does, they’ll both suffer. Even if Szél does not wake, it’s likely that the beast will kill him before he does. He can’t damn him like that.
But he’s caught. He’s trapped and he can’t escape the situation - literally this time as he can feel the weight of the metal cuff around his ankle growing heavier by the second. There’s no way out of this and there’s nowhere to run. The monster is finally fed up with him and honestly even the most patient of creatures can only keep their cool for so long. It’s been seven years and well he’d be fed up with him too.
So jade eyes drop down towards the floor as his lips press into a frown and he sighs. He has no choice but to tell some form of the truth. He’s anchored to the floor and the Maken is gone. As it usually was in these sorts of situations. If the brat strikes him down now, he has no doubt that he’ll be dead for a good long time because he can’t feel its presence anywhere in the near vicinity no matter how much he calls to it.
“I - I just wanted to get some fresh air and I fell asleep.” He sounds in a blatant lie and he can only hope the pure fear in his voice will help be there to sell it.
“Then why were you crying?” The voice is skeptic but almost willing to believe him.
“I was having a nightmare. About my home. I - I am terribly lonely.” Truth dances with lies again to paint a believable picture and it seems to satisfy the beast enough to keep it at bay for the moment until a hand raises and slaps him hard across the face with so much force it makes his head turn.
“You have no right to feel alone, when I’ve surrounded you with so many allies. What do you long for? Friends? Your Family? We are your family now, and you are not allowed anyone else unless I deem it. You are my pet Little Cloud and you should feel grateful for anyone I bring into your life and anything I give you. Where would you be without me? Lost- out in that orderless kingdom with the heathens who would sooner do you harm than help you. How many times do I have to tell you that they would tear you apart if they ever got their hands on you?
Throwing you out there would be the same as throwing you to the wolves. Is that what you want? To be devoured by the wolves? I am done with your rebellion, child. You should be grateful that it was I who found you and not the masses who live below. Such an arrogant hopeless little prince. This world would sooner destroy you than help you, remember that. I am the best thing that has ever happened to you. Have I made myself perfectly clear to you, child?”
His head drops, and his eyes lock to the darkness of the floor. If he just - if he just submits maybe it will get him out of this room. Maybe it will get this chain off his ankle but something tells him he’s going to be stuck down here for at least a few more hours if not a few more days.
“Yes.” He sounds quickly. “Yes, Your Excellency.” The addition comes from quivering lips because quite frankly he doesn’t feel like dying today. He doesn’t feel like going through the agony of having his body twisted and bent in every which way until he’s crushed under the pressure.
But even with that addition a hand still reaches out and strikes him across the face again.
“Address me correctly, Little Cloud.” and it’s the emphasis on his second name that makes his stomach twist. It’s the emphasis on that name that makes him know exactly what that demon wants but he feels sick at the thought of saying it. He has two choices. Say it and perhaps survive the night or refuse and not only spend the next few days down here but mostly be dead while he does so.
But the idea of saying that - of addressing this little piece of hell incarnated into living flesh in such a way is enough to make his stomach turn.
He can’t bring his gaze up. He can’t look at him and he can feel frustrated crystal burning is vision as his lips part again.
“Yes, Master. You have made yourself clear.”
His stomach flips as the words leave him, and the nausea only grows when he feels that same striking hand turn gentle and stroke softly over his cheek - lingering there for a moment as the beast looks down at him from a vantage that could only be achieved by keeping the Cloud Prince so close to the floor.
“Good. I expect you’ll behave yourself from now on, Little Cloud.” Speaks a voice filled with some twisted form of affection and it lingers in the hair before that gentle hand turns violent all over again and buries itself into the back of airy locks of snow and pulls forcibly arching the prince’s head up to look at his captor, his next words slip out like venom.
“Because if you disobey me again, Little Cloud, next time I’ll rip the mist right out of you.”
His hair is released and body shoved towards the floor to discard him as if he’s nothing more than common trash.
“You can stay down here for a while so maybe you’ll learn something. If you behave well enough, I’ll return your sword to you. Otherwise, I’ll be keeping it close. For now though, Little Cloud - Be quiet and Obey.”
The beast was gone just as quick as he came, and the Little Moon was left alone trapped within a darkness he could not light.
A lot of the series on Kumo’s side of things takes place in a floating castle called “Gaudium” which is latin for Joy. So that’s why in my drabbles / posts Kumo will refer to it as a “Castle of False Joy”.
Gaudium is known in Wonderland as “The Earl’s Fortress” and it is homebase for Earl Tyrant and his “Lords of Gaudium.” Kumo, ended up in Gaudium when he entered Wonderland and spends the majority of the series there plus the twelve years prior to the series.
So I thought, for those unfamiliar with the series, I would go over Gaudium real quick to give you all some idea of what it’s like there and of the people who live there.
For the sake of this being picture heavy, let’s put it under a cut.
Firstly, Gaudium is a floating fortress that is defended by four satellites that can both create a defensive barrier and fire on enemies offensively.
Kumo is often seen perched outside on one of the far ends of the castle away from any and everyone, just existing within the clouds without actually leaving the castle. (There is a reason he doesn’t just leave the castle.)
Within Gaudium, mostly the cast is scene in the throne room where The Earl and his Lords “oversee” Wonderland to make sure “proper order” is kept. Again, most of the time when these scenes come up, if Kumo is in the room, he is as far from the cast as possible either perching on wall decoration above the Earl’s throne or he’s on the far side of the room keeping to himself.
Kumo is almost always shown as mostly removed from the main cast, and interacts with them as little as possible. Part of this is due to his detached nature. Part of this is because of his true motives. Another is the delicate relationship he has with the Earl, but this is also because it’s made plain within the scope the series that Kumo is the odd man out as he is not a Lord of Gaudium until episode 12.
At this point, he has been in the company of these people for over 12 years and The Earl does not make him one of his Lords until over a decade later. Kumo was one of the first people to end up in Gaudium after Oscha and Herba.
So speaking of The Earl and his Lords, let’s talk about them.
So firstly,
Earl Tyrant - the king of Gaudium, the Earl can be seen on the throne of the castle almost constantly, rarely seen leaving it. He is almost always throwing some form of a fit, and not afraid to berate any and all of his Lords in front of each other or in private. Kumo is the only one of his Lords he will not get aggressive with in front of the other lords. The Earl is the one responsible for naming Kumo both “Makenshi” and “Little Cloud”.
Oscha - as caretaker of Chaos, Oscha remains here almost constantly. He’s nearly the watchdog of Gaudium and almost never leaves. He see to The Earl’s every whim and is on top of making sure he knows where Kumo is at near all times. Oscha is one of the only one’s who are aware of the abusive truth of The Earl’s relationship with Kumo. He is one of the Earl’s original Lords.
Herba - one of The Earl’s original Lords. She is ruthless and cunny just as much as she is light and flirtatious. She takes her job with pride and revels in the destruction and suffering of others. She uses a myriad of plants as her minions and carries a parasol with her that is capable emitting an infectious pollen and of blocking gunfire from Kaze’s shotgun. She has been shown on multiple occasions she is not afraid to drug or manipulate both her foes and allies.
Pist Shaz XI - or simply known as “Pist” joined the Lords of Gaudium as The Earl’s last Lord. He is self proclaimed “Ruler of the Seas” and over sees the waters of Wonderland. He is smart and analytical, often seen relying on data from previous fights to access how to contend with his enemies. He has both managed to temporarily steal the Magun from Kaze and infect one of his Soil summons causing it to rampage out of control.
Fungus - He was the third of The Earl’s Lords to join Gaudium. He is normally roaming Wonderland in his airship looking for signs of unrest and seen often in the series attacking the main party. He hails from a land of mushroom based lifeforms. The Earl convinces him that if he joined Gaudium’s cause for order, his world could be restored to it’s former glory.
"I also hold that man in no form of affection or even safe quarter. I hope horrible things happen to him. He is my enemy, I just have no care about who brings him down. I would put an end to him without hesitation but if Black Wind wishes to do then be my guest. Lady Tiamat doesn't care for him either. He's a wretched person and I only pray he has the day he deserves."
white cloud + TRUTH + out of the four "original" lords of gaudium, which one do you hate most?
SEND ‘ TRUTH ‘ + A QUESTION AND MY MUSE HAS TO ANSWER. NO LYING ALLOWED.
"Herba easily holds that title, if not with Pist in a close second. I have a different set of feelings towards Oscha that are messy and complicated and none of them are nice. Herba is simple and straight forward and the things I would do to her if I ever got my hands on her are as brutal as the things she's done onto others. I hate that which and I have seen the brutal, horrible, miserable ways she's tortured and experimented with living beings like they were her simple play things.
I have seen with my own eyes the horror and trauma she's caused to the people of these lands and if I am in debt to His Excellency, then she is in debt to Wonderland. I'm more than happy to collect for them."
