the hum of a familiar song lingers in her throat , a taste of sweetness hangs on her tongue and a faint hunger crawls up her skin . solitude is a cruel thing , though she rarely speaks of it . four walls hold her in , yet she remains aware of the unsettling outside world . a monster of sorts is out there , and she cannot imagine leaving to find out what it is . sucre wonders if she needs to leave to know – perhaps it will come to her . this world has become so terribly frightening .
a sound approaches from the staircase , and her mind indulges in her frightened thoughts . for just a moment , she imagines the monster as it crawls closer to her . the thing that turned the world into a place of fear and all she could do was wait . she could fight it , resilient as she was . she ‘ s prepared but not for long . it was no monster at all , no , just zacharie . she ‘ s pleased to know it ‘ s him rather than anything else . a friend as opposed to a foe .
❝ hello zacharie , : - ) ❞ her voice is lilted , nearly as sweet as all the sugar in the room . sucre smiles a bit , a facade similar to how his mask was to him . ❝ what brought you here ? ❞
awash in relief. to hear the chime of her voice was to know that he had not yet traipsed ‘pon
this place, SPARED for the time being. it was a pang in his chest ; a certain dread that had
and would always linger. NEVER was she truly safe ; it was all, always, a matter of time. and
when her form had been slain, slated to lie against cold, metal ground, he give nary a hint to
his woe, his misery, and utter those scripted words, IT’S BETTER LIKE THAT... never was he
permitted to grieve. not valerie. not pablo, not sucre, not anything he’s ever known. simply a
man, in a mask. nothing more, NOTHING LESS.
for no other reason would he return to his ZONE, a place left in the hands of the most trusted amidst them
all, least corrupt and by for the most MORALLY superior. abject and abstract was he as a guide, but pablo
did his best to train and prepare players for the horrors ahead. oh, if only they could understand that such
tragedy would come by their hand. he approaches closer, fingers wrapped tight ‘round straps of overly
burdened knapsack, treasures and wares alike stashed away inside. it’s set to rest at ground, shoulders
rolling until they pop with no prejudice. the aches and pains have faded to something akin STATIC at this
point in his extended life cycle, but to recollect humanity was a blessing, some days.
‘ i worry for you, sucre... all alone down here. it must be TERRIBLY quiet, some
days. up there is such a vast difference, night and day. though, it could stand to
be a little less chaotic, i’d think.
but, soon, that will all be over, too.’
baratheonpilled
kianamaiart
