The Ballad of trickster ★°
Memories of fallen days ~
(I was writing it about fantasy very self-indulgent OC, but hear me out, it gives Loki. It gives Loki a lot)
From former friend perspective:
Two glasses deep, by all accounts,
I should be sleeping home in bed,
But time has spun a twisted yarn,
a labyrinth inside my head.
Like a broken record, the melody remains,
Playing on a loop, driving me insane.
Over and over, and over again...
Across the room, the crowded room,
the familiar faces fade to stone,
Until of everyone I knew,
you sit there waiting, all alone.
Watching through the smoke and stains,
With a serpent’s gaze that freezes my veins.
Through the roaring laughter and the drunken cries,
I scream, "Who are you?" beneath the smoke-filled skies.
But he only smiles, a wicked, knowing grace,
Just as he did in the ancient days...
In the Year of the Crow,
in the Year of the Ash,
When blinding days brought deeper dread
than darkest nights could ever make.
In the Year of the Crow,
when the world was burning bright,
It’s not every day they light
a pyre to honor you by night.
Worn cards and grimoires fall heavy on the wood,
Boots caked in the ancient mire where the dying stood.
The air is thick with a choking haze,
A labyrinth of smoke, a dizzying daze.
Amidst the horrors of the dark,
His horns I could forgive, I swear —
If not for how his laughter sparks
And chills the suffocating air.
His horns I might have overlooked,
a minor grace, a trick of sight,
If not for how his laughter rings —
so cold, so sharp, so full of spite.
The dancers spin, a cloven hoof
goes thudding on the floor,
While someone flips through spellbooks,
Seeking truth long told before.
"Look at the world," I tell the snake,
"It's tearing at the seams".
But he just smiles that wicked smile,
a ghost from ancient dreams...
In the Year of the Crow,
in the Year of the Ash,
When blinding days brought deeper dread
than darkest nights could ever make.
In the Year of the Crow,
when the world was burning bright,
It’s not every day they light
a pyre to honor you by night.
From trickster(oc)'s perspective:
I begged for time. Just a little more.
A few more grains of sand upon the floor.
To breathe, to breathe — the air is so tight,
When tomorrow fades from sight,
Or when the day refuses to die.
I knew that I would soon become
A lingering thought, a mere shadow on the stone
Bound to eclipse the earth and sky.
I suppose I wished, in my despair,
To live forever, free as air.
Now I am the echo in the hall,
The clever eye that watches all.
A trickster freed from mortal plight,
Beyond the fall, beyond the light.
Two glasses deep, by all accounts,
you should be sleeping home in bed,
But time is such a playful thing
when you encountered with the dead.
And like a wheel, it spins around,
it spins around, it spins around,
I flash my teeth and smile again,
the very same I wore before,
Back in the age of ash and crow,
when shadows banged on the door...
In centuries past, in years without a name,
When blinding days brought deeper dread
than darkest nights could ever make.
In centuries past, we fed the hungry flame —
It isn’t every day they light a bonfire in your name.
In centuries past, when you knew my game
Based on the song "1348" by Rohata Zhaba
