when: chapter ii, plot drop ii : justice of a liar ; some days after zixuan’s botched execution.
where: iarna keep
with who: anyone !
death would walk among them with its breath heaving aghast necks and heads, he knew. perhaps even more than peering eyes treating them barely as beings able to share their same air but rather as cattle to sacrifice as banes of all earth’s sin or to send off to die in their stead where wars they weren’t meant to belong to would seize all that existed in fire and blood, as rare as they were so expendable.
it was vrajiit’s grim sight on grimmer reality since dawn of times only told by mouth after mouth and barely finding traces in scriptures for it’d be too much of an uncomfortable subject for those crowned heads to hear when oh so busy they were in grasping at straws so bad they’d start using once more all that held breath and movement as excuse for their fright and paranoid fueled incompetence --chaining and torturing and executing those who never laid a hand in guilt towards those people they all claimed in devoting protection and adore when high heads themselves were those afraid of lingering rage of masses ready to knock at their door in outrage.
it had just happened, after all. it had happened in past not so far away to look at, it would happen again if so fit wounded king’s maddening decree --ever so infuriating to look at even for one like himself who always had been so silent, always had let those shadows within whisper of painting himself as villain they all oh so desperately wanted because enough was enough ; what he had to lose, after all ? with a father most likely within those who rejoiced of the unscheduled demise, a mother long gone and returned to ungrateful earth, what would stop him from making of those lulling shadows doing his bid and beck and call to rise as a newfound army aghast those false thrones and ungrateful crowns who’s done nothing but prove him right over and over ?
no friends existed for they could easily hide away in fear of crownwearing paranoia’s retaliation, dear cousin so easy to see disappearing to a safety poor zixuan knew he’d find anywhere else but nearby her ; bruising still would remain though, lacing neckline and wrists with their scatter of reds and purples and blues, ointment made with sageash and ground glaze lilies delicately massaged as if that would make any ache and rage grow meeker and less close to point of no return --eyes of abyss shooting glares to whoever dared even inching closer to him with their deafening steps, head still held as high as he was during prisonry and slaughter, defiant.
