( #Makaraig )
In a large, quiet room, there is a whole wall covered by a single, beautiful curtain. You cannot easily see where the curtain is divided, but on certian occasions, it is parted fully to present a grand and wonderful secret. For the moment, however, it remains mostly still. In the leftmost corner of this piece of cloth is a small table, atop which is an old player. A casette. Probably older than you, dear reader.
From behind this elaborately stitched curtain, a slender and painted hand slowly comes out. It flourishes and beckons to you, the reader, to come forward.
Closer.
Yes, darling, a little closer.
Not too close.
There we are. Perrrrrrfect.
The hand lightly presses the play button on the old fashioned player and a song plays: "I Wish I Knew How it Would Feel to Be Free" by Nina Simone. As the happy melody plays at a low volume, a thin figure comes out of the curtain dressed in fancy silks, bedecked with rare and fancy hammered gold and precious stones. She is barefoot only for today, as her outfitter has not yet completed her latest personal design. One that will never be part of her world class collection of ostentatious and truly delightful fashion.
His name is Mario Posadas...
"Excuse me."
Ah, yes. She prefers to be called a different name nowadays.
=====================
( #Mariposa )
"Since the beginning of time, my dear."
... since the beginning of time.
"Thank you. Allow me to introduce myself: Mariposa, the queen of butterflies! I have three very important purposes in this story, beloveds. The first is to provide exposition on certain past happenings. Second is to provide a conscience of sorts to certain people who are in dire need of some common sense... and the third?"
She bats her naturally long, bejeweled eyelashes.
"To be unquestionably beautiful."
As she says this to us, the unseen audience, a door slams open and in comes Datu Ma'Heron de Narra, sovereign lord of the kingdom of Rahu, in a huff. His face is red and his look severe and rough. As a final acknowledgment of our existence, she whispers to us:
"This is where I am the conscience... well, my dearest anak (another word for son/daughter/child in another language). My sweet, darling, handsome lad, you look a little bit upset!"
"A little? A LITTLE Mama!?"
"Only a little, my dear. What seems to be the matter?"
"I just... were you talking to someone a moment ago, mama?"
"Oh, just a gecko in the ceiling, my dear. Nothing to worry about; I'm not yet senile."
"Gecko? I don't hear OR see one."
"Then I wasn't talking to anyone, darling... what troubles you?"
The handsome young man takes a long, deep breath and exhales. He looks at the floor and starts making little circles with his foot. Mariposa volunteers to describe his frustration.
"Was it a bad meeting with foreign delegates?"
"No."
"A delay in some agreement?"
YOU ARE READING
Blood Wine
RomanceThey were just too different! Even when they first met they almost came to blows -- which both did not mind at all, if not for common sense and their current positions in life. But there was no denying it. Ma'Heron loathed Victor while all Victor w...
