Suŋo

Come over here and let me stay,

Inside your mind I will plant flowers,

and watch you struggle within this evening hour.

Now that is rude,

didn't she give you enough praise,

for your poetry to be inked,

on everything she called dear?

-🦋

At first she was nothing,

a no one I missed to claim,

but when she asked for a simple favour,

I knew I had to be her saviour.

 I could not write her sonnets,

no matter how small and light,

for that would break her soul,

sweet sonnets concealed in light,

but for anyone you hold dear,

would you consider to write?

-🦋

I have not yet found someone so dear,

that I would lay my soul to waste,

so maybe it was not meant to be,

Screw you, and here have a haiku

...

Remain in jest,

You are sun-kissed,

I keep telling myself that ‘Monsters don’t deserve pity’, but what am I but another monstrosity come to destroy what hurt my kind? The Winter is still raging around in his complicated thoughts, trying to find a viable excuse to explain what I have done. He of course - won’t find any. There’s not one solid clear point of revenge that would make him understand.

I do…feel some pity for him. It’s not easy understanding your nature as a rabid beast, made to kill and slaughter and feel no pity. It has been addressed many times before, dear Watcher. Yet I feel the sense of confusion. Why do this? Why drag out the past when it is past?

It’s not a matter of free-will. The House of Summer has always been the most manipulative of the Houses, causing nothing but a brief period of suffering that everyone eventually forgets. We take their memories, turning them into nightmarish hallucinations that they must escape from before their sanity breaks under the constant mental strain and confusion. Folk…aren’t as breakable as Humans as one may know. They have different thought patterns, different objectives and desires, and to break them is indefinitely harder then snapping a Human’s mind with a rather violent thought.

Rather conveniently, there are rules that must not be broken - but the Winter has done so.

Rule One. Keep conflicts within your own House. He broke the first of many rules that graced our presence, and consequently set off a chain of events that eventually landed him in his current position. Lost, helpless, and certainly not the killer he was prophesied to be, granted I also played a part in this.

Rule Two. Murder of and within your own House is punishable by Death. The Winter seemed to forget this one existed, for they were almost too quick to slaughter one of their own to cover their own skin once I knew what had happened.

There are others, but they do not play a part in this story. These two rules when broken individually are bad enough to deal with, but together? Would cause a House-wide war.

I took matters into my own hands.

The Child had come to me for protection, since the Winter Solstice was far upon us and she had nothing to offer but the skin off her back and the thirst in her lungs.

She did not wish to die.

However, the Houses of Summer, Spring and Fall were in a slumber. It was not our season, so why would we await the horrors of the Winter and look upon the Hells it raises?

She was desperate, and knowing She had once before praised the very ground that we paved, the fields we raised and nurtured, the Sun so high above that we threw shards of light into the sky as a celebration of our survival - I pitied her.

You could even say I owed her.