#direkuta

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                                                      ' thou art highly regarded, little witch. prithee, prithee.                                                        doth not flee. i wish to speak to thee. hold council with                                                        this mad king, will ye? ‘ the mad king steps forward, a pale shirt contrasting against dirty skin. the man is dirty, inside and out. dark soul, no heart. false mind. he wants the company of the witch; every king needs a court wizard. court witches will suffice. he will not send this one to the stake.                                                       ‘ come hither,come hither, little witch. i will not burn thee.                                                         thy candle is comforting. reminds me of a land they call                                                         elescotia. a ruinous sanctuary in this world. they try to                                                         live, still. we had candles like this. i had a candle like this                                                         in my room in the barracks. i read mythology to it. doth                                                         the lightbearer know of romulus and remus? ‘

                                           ✝ ACT ONE | RETURN OF THE KING. ✝                                                 chapter three: betrayal of the court. heartbreak is the only damning pain that a sinner can feel; heartbreak is the only thing that a man who has lost it all can feel after regaining his strength. he was taught, trained, held and caressed by a man who he figured was dead. they were to fight together to regain his country, and in return, sebastian would help him find his lover and break him free of some confine. he had been assisted by a vagabond girl who he figured dead as well, only to find that she lived, also. and now, the third time being the charm, he had found her. he had found his beautiful, darling ophelia. darling ophelia, with hair like the earth’s beautiful soil and eyes that captivated even the strongest of shogun, the wonderful, beautiful flower who would strike him and bring him the resplendent pain he so desired, so CRAVED, like an addict with his heroin. daring not to drop his claymore, he took a step forward, almost disgusted, appalled that he had to find her, that she had not returned to him.                                                                                          ‘ thou lives. as doth i. whence, in                                                                                            god’s name, hath thou been, aiko? ‘

                ‘ I know I’m late.                                      Please don't kill me. '