Disclaimer: This series is an LGBT slow-burn fiction that contains heavy politics and sensitive themes like profane language, murder, war, cultism, fictional religions, non-consensual events, PTSD, racism, substance abuse, misogynistic undertones, a...
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"In my pilgrimage from the twilight forests to my pyramid I contemplated upon the thousand steps; the 13 moons chasing each other in the eternal skies with the same reason why the Alditians celebrates the dawn, the Zhoutanians oil their machines, the Mezenians meditates with crops, the Navenxii moves jungles, the Latamese migrates with the stars, the Akans authorize diplomacy, the Schynths fruits the swamps, and the Sovenians fight the Ocmenians- all these are meant to be in Lord Vartholo's perfect architecture."
-The Celestial Vaults by Scholar-King Ethweltexco of Navenxii-
"Miriam?" Hildred whispered, behind her followed the thick light of the afternoon washing out the insides of the apothecary.
"Hildred?"
Lady Blackmercy sprang back to life when she saw a familiar smile by the door bringing all the warmth from a distant country. She came sprinting towards the bald queen to envelope her with arms of longing, and Hildred caught her body like a dead flower of spring.
"Let the tears nourish your gloom, pain is forever built in us women- so bear with it with a woman's strength..."
"Memory is a pleasure I wish I never had..." Her voice cracked like a lonely pillar holding a forgotten temple.
"Hush now Miriam, don't say such things or Ane'deralya might hear! Vallin was just forced. It is not your fault."
"Ane'deralya is a cruel bitch!" All souls present was stupefied with such profanity to the goddess of dreams and memories.
"Unmah lih, osa adut Modiaja Gona leo Im dof fromosko daemdo. Efa'am osa skob hentu osa M'bongosh. Gariso"
(Young one, the Nightshade Heroine and I need some time alone. Leave the room with the Sailor. This is urgent.)
Laguna turned to the sailor sitting on a torn-out couch of fur and leather, aged out of its glory.
"The fuck you want?" The sailor welcomed.
"Your friend's hand for marriage. " Laguna answered, almost amassing a laugh from his grandmother if not from Miriam's dreary state. Of course, it was just said in his mind.
"We need to leave." Laguna voiced out politely.
"Oh I don't need to leave my 'friend', you on the other hand, does not belong here, the snow melts from your footsteps." Ian replied in calm spite.
"You'll find out soon that your desire won't be easy 'friend'." the diplomat smirked on the sailor.
The Sailor stood, blazing his blue eyes on the Ocmenian, his chin pointing at Laguna's neck like a weapon ready to slip a crimson smile. The height of their bodies towering each other as if one would siege the other soon enough.
