this is my whisper, dreams for the daylight
I forgot how this story goes... Do you play the role of the hero or the villain? I do not understand this, this emptiness inside of my chest. Where has my heart gone? Where has my heart been? I don't believe that it was ever truly there to begin with, for there's a vacancy sign where there was never an occupancy. You cannot be the villain because you did not steal my heart. You failed at being a cruel master, you were miserable when you should have been spectacular. What happened to break your resolve? I cannot feel my heart. You were always here, always there, always near to where I was - you were my shadow, my light, my savior. But you were a shadow, a wraith, a phantom to this world. You never truly belonged with the living, did you? You never belonged at my side. So, you never belonged in my heart. Why can't I feel anything? All emotions are distant, they feel as if from another life, another person's history entirely. Have I stolen your dreams and become your fears, your fantasies? I forgot h thow this story goes... You were supposedly my hero, I was your villain. Where did we go? What did we do? Your lifeless eyes stare into my soul and I am void, I am empty. Those lifeless, listless blue eyes are what took away my emotions. Seeing you without being able to be seen by you - there, there is where this heart of mine went. Into the grave, into the dirt and the worms with your corpse. What are we now? I am no widow because we never truly were. I am no saint because I never truly believed. What did you do to me? My fingers are cold. My eyes are closed and they cannot open... I'm losing myself, I'm losing myself, I'm losing myself...
Into the fog, I hear the voices and the whispers and the promises.
"I miss you, Gregory, don't go! Don't forsake me like this, I promise to love you as I once have. I need you in my life!" a woman is crying.
Mary, sweet Mary, was tangled in a web of half-truths and ghosts and mirrors. Where was the smoke? The flame had yet to be ignited per the request of the King. As the court was filled to overflowing with courteous gentlemen and sweet-faced ladies. There was no fear for being beheaded, there was no fear of being turned in for traitorous conspiracies. For the King was a fool: he trusted too few, he was heedless to the needs of his country, and he stole many a nobleman's virginal daughter for his bedchambers. When would the old fool, Long live the King!, perish? There were many who eyed the throne as the King was a failure as a man, unable to spawn a child off of his first wife, or his second wife, or his most current old-Queen. The court was transforming to be a young man's court, courtiers were in their mid to late twenties. Lively and noisy and always seeking a thrill. They gambled and they whored and they ransacked. No one cared to stop them, for the King's own brother was amongst the group of these lecherous, adulterous brigands. What could go wrong when the King, long live the King!, perished and the crown was to be placed upon a younger, more handsome head? They were a court of youth and folly, lust and poetic-love. Dedication, but only for the night. Promises, but only for that breath. What would happen if they were to control the throne, the crown, the Kingdom? Many a lustful, many more an envious eye watched the hulking figure of their old, worn out King was he paraded through the halls of his castle.
They would allow him to play King for another few months.
The overfed, overly exhausted Spider was about to be tossed from his web. There would be no more pawns for him to toy with for he would be the pawn, as he already was. There was a balance that needed to be found before they could be rid of the old-King.
They would allow him to play King.
His little brother was brimming with prosperity, with youth, with reckless ambition (and the newly transforming court was in-love with this blasphemous heathen).
Sweet, young Mary was hidden away in an alcove off of the main hallway. Hidden away from the ruckus of the court as she stifles another attack, hand over her mouth to quiet her sobs. It was just the way he had looked at her from across the throne room... Those eyes. Her own blue ones were hidden beneath closed lids, thick, dark lashes curling across flushed cheeks. What has he done to me? The thought floats through the victimized mind of the innocent young woman. There was nothing to betray her guilt and her shame but her own actions. He had merely given her a bow as was proper for their ranks within this court. She was the cousin of the King and he was... he was slowly forgotten as the mind was forced to think on other subjects. The needlework that needed to be done for the Nuns before Christmastide came round again. The mending of her Guardian's fine shirts. As a Ward of the current King and an item in the eyes of the (self-proclaimed) soon-to-be King, little Mary, sweet Mary, was trusted to take care of the mending of the King's own wardrobe. Well, the finer clothes. As her fingertips needed to remain smooth and delicate for when she would be wedded. Oh, why, oh why! had he looked at her the way he had! Her presence was most assuredly noted by many of the courtiers and she would be reprimanded by the Queen. Heaving sobs had been successfully quieted and eventually stilled, her shoulders caved in and her eyes tightly closed.
But alas, there would be no peace.
Cool fingers were in search of tender flesh as a stranger's hand caught her wrist, sliding up and locking about her elbow. "My lady Mary, why are you so alone? Please, tell me you were waiting for me-" A whisper, a heated whisper with an undertone of a threat as those stranger's familiar lips caught near her ear and he inhaled her smell. "So sweet, such a sweet aroma - as a rose, as a flowerbed of rose petals." He sighs.
Mary is a bit slow to react, to respond and gage this new reality. She was no longer alone. There was a hand on her arm and a mouth against her cheek. The young woman came to as the threat in his voice was caught and her back stiffened. Her lips moved but no sound came. She inhaled, second attempt. "Unhand me kind sir, I beg of you. I was merely overwhelmed by the heat of the throne room." After all, it was midsummer in the lower countryside of the Kingdom. When it felt as though her flesh should bruise, Mary felt her heart flutter and she began to flirt with panic. "Sir, I am needed with the Queen! She is most assuredly waiting upon my presence to assist in sewing for the Nuns..." her voice weakens, then strengthens. It must have carried through the hall to some other ear. To some lost hero.
The young lord who was currently drunken and lustful, only laughed at her. Outloud and obnoxiously close to her face, his breath stank of old cheese and stale ale. "Lady Mary, hear my confession..."
ooc: Any role may be taken, as King or brother of the King. Or a random Courtier.
Also, please advice me if I need to edit my introduction to be more... approachable for someone to join me.
So far, this is an open thread.
Thanks for reading this far! (: