Corruption {ON HOLD}

Chapter 1

Roman peered at himself in the mirror. He swore something was different about himself, but he couldn't pick up what. His face seemed duller, he decided. He covered up the sleepless bags with makeup and put his princely suit on.

His head started throbbing mid-conversation. Badly too. Patton cast a worried look in his direction, but Roman just shot him a full-teethed smile. The insecurity was gnawing at his head, it's voice getting louder and louder.

He excused himself and stumbled to the bathroom. His skin was paling quickly, his clothes darkening. He gripped the sink and tried to use the creative energy to revert. Yet he lacked it. His dyed hair faded back to white and he fell on the bathroom floor. He was shaking violently.

His outfit darkened and lightened to a black and white. A blindfold wrapped around his eyes as broken shackles appeared on his wrist, ankles and neck. A small cracked crown floated above his head. Memories fled from his head like an invisible hand was pulling them out.

He drifted from consciousness.

~

Hello. This is the Switcher. Or as the author calls me 'The Corrupter'. Ha! Such a dumb name! I was responsible for the king's split, blah, blah, blah. I wouldn't call myself evil. More like..the devil but slightly iknder . Poor little Roman. So bad at his job. He can't even do his job.

Let me let you in on a little secret. When I 'corrupt' some side, I take their biggest flaw and I maximise it. I do it so precisely, there's no room for anything else. So they switch.

~

Insecurity blinked his eyes. He could see through a presumed blindfold around his eyes. He was pretty sure his eyes weren't that nice either. He raised his hand in front of his face an waggled them experimentally. He had a strange feeling of shivering run through his body. He turned his head to a nearby mirror and resisted the urge to snap his head away from it.

He had white, tousled hair, and pale-ish skin and painted silver fingernails. For a second, his mind projected peachier colours and a more colourful palette before returning to the dullness of the white and black. He blinked and peered at the opening door.

He saw others rushing towards him and he backed up quickly against the bed head.

"Roman! Are you okay? Why don't you look like your usual creative self?" A tallish man with rounded glasses asked him. On closer inspection, he also had a cardigan tied around his shoulders.

"Creative? Why would I be creative?" Insecurity mumbled, fiddling with the fluffy blankets on the bed. His voice was slightly rich, but soft and timid.

"You're Creativity! Remember?"

"I'm not Creativity..I'm Insecurity.."