(Not) Destined To Be
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- Parts 2
Victorian age, the time you, John Holl, live perfectly with your five friends in a beautiful mansion. But not everyone has it all. In a basement, in outer London fight some poverty men to get food on their table. The best fighter being Zelfon aka Zelfonus. Not only is this man the best fighter, he is also a born leader. The man calls out for equality, a revolution! You’re so inspired by his words, many are and you personally help this man with the revolution even you carve.
But at some point this revolution reached its dead end because of one man, you, John Well.
What if your fates turn against each other? What if killing each other is the only way? What if heaven is the only place where you two could be together? Are you ready for this civil war?
It’s a story about war, justice, dreams, friendships turning into love and love turning into hate. It’s the story between you, John Well, and him, Zelfon.
A/N: I AM SO SORRY BUT MY FEELS JUST EXPLODED AND THIS IDEA CAME TO ME AND WOMEN HAD NOTHING TO SAY IN VICTORIAN AGE SO THE READER IS A GUY I AM SO SORRY PLEASE ENJOY IT
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victorianage
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Through thick and thin the Law shall prevail. A new sense of purpose awaits us, children of light, in the land where it all began. The darkness in which we once cowered in fear, now curbed by the might of our endless light. Come, brothers, come, sisters. Let there be peace among the wicked, just as the Law dictates. Peace and certainty is all that you have ever longed for, little angel. A bright, stable future. A roof without holes above thy head. Acknowledgement and recognition of thy existence, feverish dreams of grandeur. Greed born from yearning, treacherous vines of rapacity taint your innocent soul. You seek a future that does not exist. Let thy fingers hold the fragile line between dream and nightmare. Let thy light navigate the path. Shall thee give in and falter, O' land of old, envelop his body in thy unending flame of chaos. Spit out nothing but an empty husk, the remnants of a smile once so bright. Shall thee prevail, O', Great Kazdel, I ask of you, the impossible - take mercy on the innocent. Don't let the radiance dim and don't let the mind turn bleak. Wake, young traveler. Bid thy farewells and burn thy bridges. It's time to say goodbye, curly head. Cross post from AO3. For a shorter and more on-point description, look no further! I had something silly written up before throwing it out in exchange for that wall of text upstairs. It's a little story "about a young, dumb sankta who's been dealt a bad hand at life, looking for his place in all this mess. The pointless search for a better future leads him far, far away from home, to a country forever ravaged by war and misery - Kazdel, the promised land where devils roam free and peace feels out of place." Anyway, it's quite lengthy, but hopefully enjoyable? Slide a comment if you want, I'll give you a tiny kiss on the forehead. Man, do I love comments. (Lastly, to point out, English is not my native language, but I don't think it'll be much of an issue ;3)
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