Obsession, The Series

Obsession, the series

Archive #11 | copyright to saturnfairycat

Author's Note: Here is the abstract and all three poems combined. I personally feel like there is a difference to when you read the poems separately, versus reading it all together in one sitting. Let me know what you think. I actually have a story inspired by these poems, if you are interested in me posting it, let me know! Enjoy :)

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Abstract

When one compares their dependency on an item or being with an unhealthy tendency to forget the importance of being their own person. A siren is known for the obsession she produces just from singing; while a place of holiness can be known for saving those that have no other place to go. Obsession and adoration are two separate things, but sometimes the siren can be merely adored… while the building is seen as a cult designed for obsession. The comparison of the siren and church to the human's dependent heart is a wake up call for those who allow themselves to serve no other purpose than living in someone else’s life. 

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Obsession

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Woe the building that falls

To seek a soul whose pictured as gold,

makes artless mortals sway. 

The siren theory is embodied as a place— 

that is known for its embrace…

of worship, importune and obsession.

But to pray to who is equivocal… 

they’re merely a god, merely a question.

You can’t treat a person like a church possession—  

the inner walls creak and moan

against the protest and crack of bone. 

Nicknamed Dulia for its glory, 

but it drowns those who try to adore thee. 

The plafond above our heads sing in pressure– 

haunting the thought of being crushed. 

Whilst they cry for their successor,

dust floated towards the exit as if being rushed. 

The sky tends to fall away; 

clouds imitate a chevet. 

The sight itself creates much dismay,

but time is an illusion…

oh, such betray.

But what a church with no heaven?

Sky, empyrean, and the ether

don’t judge a star's demeanour! 

Aperture with glass framework– 

edging feelings with a smirk.

Reflection shows a shining gleam,

but true colour is never seen. 

The sun has a shaded costume 

using the moon as hecatomb.  

It may use perfume as a facade…

but mien flares hearts exerting ballade.

If darkness plummets beneath our feet

may I pray for a deathless greet.

The devotee, 

limp in their extremities, 

served one purpose…and failed.

It drifted into sea like a dead anemone– 

with no avail or memory. 

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Infatuation

Summersweet, white alder, pepper bush— 

wind that blows bouquets away with a swoosh.

A church, the ocean and the utter devotion 

such words that are unremittingly

used and mentioned.

You must be annoyed and sick of the voices

telling you about the, oh so many choices…

that you can take. 

It makes your cliff shake and ache against the currents

you’re trying to break. 

Hundred of shouts turns into a song

while you still can’t get along—

with yourself and the image

that you portray as a sailor, paying primage. 

You can’t love a siren,

moreover cage them in a shrine to admire in. 

They didn’t draw you in with their beauty, 

they were just on death duty.

Artless feelings are sweet and dependent 

until you sneeze and crush flowers gifted, 

not to the loved one but to the church—

a place of worship but for a search…

of pathetic purpose. 

Arson ash that coughs up the lungs

makes heartthrobs hold their tongues. 

It’s been so long since the reminiscence,

but existence with omniscience means that

one can’t help those that don’t want it.

Sailors should save those words for those who admit it. 

Repetition shows a mind not working— 

hiding behind the words of formal glory. 

When the time comes that you consider your fate, 

please stop placing your heart on a plate.

Not everything is worth dying for, therefore

realise this before you bleed even more. 

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Siren's Curse

The feeling stills,

located deep in the heart and

washed away by emotions that don't depart. 

Such betray hasn’t been seen

in years and years, oh it’s been centuries. 

It’s not about creed

nor about faith, 

but why does the siren continue to retaliate? 

They don’t seek will or adoration,

but only sailors' shallow empty emotions. 

Thus, greed is not a problem, 

just a solution with an astrobleme. 

The star-shaped wound within the heart

drowns out singing and works of art. 

They focus on sole possessions, a measly painting

rather than just forever self-changing. 

A place verses a person can be quite the personification

for a future naive adorer’s destination. 

You compare a holy place

with a person that has no proper face.

A sailor counts

and so does a siren,

so don’t you dare postpone your responsibilities by naming it Psyren.

Yet you put them on top, as if an angel 

told you that evil is an archangel.

Connections from siren to god

is a mockery for those that don’t have a facade. 

Love yourself for what it’s worth–

not for the punishment of your birth. 

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ᴡᴇʙᴛᴏᴏɴ?? ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ???

𝒟𝓇𝒶𝒻𝓉 𝒞𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓅𝓉 (𝟢𝟨/𝟢𝟪/𝟤𝟦)

𝘐 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘭 (𝘭𝘮𝘢𝘰 𝘭𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬). 𝘏𝘖𝘞𝘌𝘝𝘌𝘙, 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 @v-for-venus 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘸𝘦𝘣𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦. 

𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘮 𝘪𝘴, 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘪— 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘴, 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘝𝘌𝘙𝘠 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘺. 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘱𝘰𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦 𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘯 (𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘮 𝘐 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵?). 

𝘚𝘰. 𝘔𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨. 

𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘰 𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘴𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵 (𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘵 𝘢𝘵𝘮) 𝘢𝘯𝘥/𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘸, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬. 

𝘎𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵.

𝘏𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯.

Refuge

Archive #3 | copyright to saturnfairycat

Author's note: Hiya! Short one today, I have been meaning to try and write more concisely in my essays... because, well, the whole ordeal of "less is more". So I thought that also applies to writing, so, here we are!

Refuge

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God forbid I write about happiness.

For I find comfort in suffering, like an old friend that I know I can always rely on.

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"I am shakespeare but as a teenage girl" - saturnfairycat

"I am a stained glass window in a place with no light." - saturnfairycat 2024

Blame

Work #1 | copyright to saturnfairycat

Author's Note: What's this??? Different from archives again????? This one I feel like is an "official" work, but not for the webtoon- just work of my own. It is pretty long (6 pages on google docs). So here is a debrief before we jump right in. Debrief: Word count: 3,279 Warnings: Death, sensitive content, flashbacks. Enjoy! 🐇

Blame

It’s been weeks. I can’t sleep. I can barely close my eyes without picturing the pool of blood. Shit. 

Drowning my cries with wine and celebration, I feel like a siren who never was meant for the sea. Drawn to the one thing that would kill it. I wish it will kill me. Please. 

“Gather around!” said my lover. Oh, how beautiful she is. Like the brightest sunflower in a field of them, too beautiful to be plucked from its stem. She belongs where she roots— she will wilt otherwise. A group of wild, curious children squeals as they run up to her, sitting down in front of her with glistening eyes of wonder. She giggled, eye wrinkles forming ever so slightly as her eyelashes flutter down to touch her soft skin. 

The hall was full today, everyone was still celebrating the conquest of the kingdom— being the third day in a row. Too quiet at home, too loud in the streets; the great castle hall was the only place left for a crook such as I.  

“Now…” she leans down, seeing eye to eye with a few of the kids that were really close to her feet. “Who would like to hear about the great adventures of our hero?!” The kids laughed as they cheered, fueling her craving to entertain. “What adventure would it be today, little ones?”

A lot of them spoke at once, it was inaudible what all the requests were— it was doing my head in. Ringing in the ears, I clench my jaw as I lift my cup for another round of alky. I shut my eyes in frustration, trying to ignore the noise— it’s difficult when they are only a few feet away from me. 

The glimpse of a corpse’s mouth filled with tainted blood, drooling down to paint their teeth and chin red welcomes me into the darkness. Their glossy eyes beckon me with guilt, they scream fear. I choke at the thought, drowning in the sea during a storm. My eyes shoot open as I bang my chest rapidly, thundering my racing heart. 

She was too busy to notice, glancing left to right as she drank in the requests. She said nothing until one stood out to her. 

“The fight between our hero and the villain!” shouted a kid from the back. The surrounding kids registered the suggestion and nodded along before shouting the same thing moments later. Soon, all were shouting the same thing— gaining attention from surrounding adults.          

She grins, raising her hands to get them to calm down. “What a wonderful suggestion! It is personally my favourite tale, too!” She gets comfortable in her seat, looking up for the first time to meet eyes with mine. Her eyes twinkle, if it was any other day— it would’ve made my stomach do backflips. But today, it makes me sick. I dig my nails into my thighs, forgetting that my leather pants were made by her, forgetting that I cared for such sentiment. 

She looks back down excitedly, her voice pitches as she announces: “I remember like it was just yesterday, but there is still the chance I will get things wrong! But fear not! Our brilliant hero is here to correct me if I am mistaken.”     

She gestures to me, I hide my bewilderment as both children and adults alike turn their heads in my direction. I clear my throat, raising my cup in acknowledgment. It was her turn to clear her throat, receiving all their attention once more. My shoulders relax a bit, trying to ease tension for what is about to happen next.

“Now… It was a beautiful night.” her arms gracefully entailed her words, mesmerising them into the story. “...After finding out where the villain was hiding— we decided to give them the pleasure with a visit this time round.” She smirked darkly, setting the mood even more. “For once, they didn’t expect us— but the sly fox still had tricks up their sleeve.” 

My heart was hammering against my ribcage; my head felt light as blood rushed to my head. The audience wasn’t the only ones imagining the tale, I was as well. 

The smell of cinnamon and mint when we sneaked into their house— the hazy atmosphere from the mist that was indulged with candles, the sound of vinyl in the background. The threat of my knees caving in as I crept up the stairs; the perverted feeling that clung to my skin as framed pictures past the corner of my eye. My friend’s hand tightly grabbed onto the back of my shirt, following me like a leech that was scared to be shaken off their host. 

Millions of thoughts had rushed to my head, I had calculated every single outcome possible. 

All but one. 

“He howled like a siren, drawing us in.” my lover pretended to claw at one of the kids that had started to lean against her leg. “He was bathing, we had chosen the perfect time to strike!” The audience laughed at his mockery. My breathing stifled at their response. For once, her storytelling didn’t hold any justice. 

He was soaking in soapy water, rosemary and bubbles were floating on the surface. He sang. And oh stars, he sure knew how to sing. He put the vinyl that was playing downstairs to shame, he sang like the heavens were listening. We stood in front of the half-closed bathroom door, witnessing his shadowed figure massaging his scalp. He sighed as he caught his breath, he swayed with the beat in his head. 

This isn’t the villain I know. I remember thinking at the time. Who is he?    

“We charged forward, ordering him to surrender.” Her tone strengthened as her face turned stern, perfecting the role of acting. “His face painted fear, we thought we had caught him at last!” 

Lies. 

His face was struck with horror and shame. My friend pushed me aside, slamming the door open as he pointed his sword at him. The others heard the commotion and were making their way up the stairs as he froze in place. I stood where I had been the whole time, like a mere bystander that got off to seeing people suffer. His face grimaced with betrayal; his eyes were screaming out with shock— how was it possible for heroes to stoop lower than the villain?

I hissed as I lifted my cup once more, sight being blinded by the high ceiling lights. My throat burned; my legs shook. 

She continued.

“We had him cornered! He was scrambling! But we trap and crush cockroaches with no trouble.” She raised her voice: “He ought to surrender! But he didn’t?!” She glanced at some of the adults. “He ended up playing dirty.”

He grabbed at the shower curtain as more of us entered the bathroom, he yanked it down to cover his waist— his tattoos kissed the edge of his shoulders in the moonlight. He scowled at us, cursing our bloodlines as he stood up. I looked away, staring down the dark hallway in panic— this isn’t what I planned to happen. Just as my eyes lost sight of him, he lit the bathroom on fire. 

Perfumed smoke forced its way down my throat. I inhaled the sweet, charcoal scent as I gasped for air. Everyone ran out before being engulfed, stumbling downstairs to seek lower ground. The dried flowers and herbs were scattered on the bathroom floor, flames dancing across each petal as it blazed. I stared bewildered, looking up to see equally fiery eyes. He looked at me in fear for the first time; he looked at me in disgust. 

“We rushed to safety, planning the next steps forward…” She had risen now, acting out movement and grace. “Our hero was still upstairs, eyeing down the weak villain.” 

He overpowered me with ease. 

He stood out of the bathtub, clinching the shower curtain as he crushed the burning herbs with his bare feet. He never broke eye contact as he started walking out of the bathroom. My legs finally moved, stepping in front of the burning bathroom. Towering over me, he looked down with pity— his hair dripped water that fell onto my ashamed face. 

“Move, bunny,” he said quietly. 

“N-no,” I fired back. 

He sighed— with one hand, he shoved me aside. His feet planted onto the cool wood boards, looking down the stairs while thinking to himself. I charged forward, breathing rapidly as I aimed my hand to hit the back of his neck. He caught my hand without even regarding me, turning around moments later to slam me on the corresponding wall— arm restricted above my head. 

“I am warning you,” he said. “That’s enough. I am done with you.” 

He let go of me, walking down the dark hallway that was now filled with smoke. 

“They fought as they escaped the smoke, but the villain was leading her down a trap!” She was standing behind me now. As she played out the scene, she slowly made her way to me in a way for me to contribute. “But oh, nothing was too witty for our lovely hero.” Her soft hands cupped my shoulders, I winced at her touch.

I remember reluctantly running after him, coughing up my certainty as he neared the door at the end. He stopped to open the door, I stopped to keep my distance. The door revealed stairs, leading upwards— to the attic. He turned to me, his face blank like the dead. 

“Are you coming?” he questioned. 

I followed as my answer. 

The attic was undoubtedly his office, papers were everywhere and ink bottles were stacked on the shelves. The church-like stained glass window shone a shadow of colour on the floor, and he walked into the light. He looked down at a particular piece of paper beneath him, before stepping over it and crossing the other half of the room. He opened the wardrobe leaning against the parallel wall, the doors swang open with a thud— making me jump. 

It was filled with cloaks and suits, majestic outfits for a majestic villain. He picked out a deep sapphire suit, attached to a dark red cloak. He paid me no regard once more, walking to a part of the room that was secluded. His muscles flexed as his face drew frustrated; his chest heaved when he stepped on his papers by accident. I stared out the window as he disappeared, still too shocked to speak or move on my own accord. 

He gritted his teeth when he came out, dressed to impress. He must have found fitting shoes back there because his swollen feet were now replaced by clicks and clacks. His coarse fingers brushed through his damp hair, staring me down as he reached for his pocket. 

“He had a secret weapon, see! Our villains have always been known for their bows and arrows, but this villain was especially known for his–”

Poison. 

He drank from the small bottle that came from his pocket, dark lashes lifted as he spat it out towards my face. I finally moved, dodging the deadly splash as I drew out my sword— my eyebrows furrowed as I leaned down to an attacking stance. And all he did was smirk, he tossed the glass bottle aside as he drew out his own sword— it was green, no— not the blade, but the poison that covered it. 

“They fought while we were clearing the fire— as they fought, the house shook from their attacks.” She pretended to wobble, holding on to me dramatically for support, receiving hearty laughter from her crowd.

“Just like old times, huh?” he shouted. He swung his sword towards my neck, which I reflected by swinging my sword back using my core strength. We were inches apart as we battled, our swords intertwined and made a horrible noise. I kicked at his abdomen, retreating slightly to catch my breath. 

“I remember how you used to loathe me,” he paused. “How you were dead-set on defeating me.”     

He doused his blade in more poison before continuing. “I always wondered why.”

I paid him no mind, swinging my sword forward as my heels tried digging into the floorboards. His face furrowed, irritated that I did not reply— he deflected my blow with his blade. We were in a stalemate once more, my arms shook against his strength. He looked down at me again, in pity. His nondominant hand lets go of his blade to grab at my face, making sure I wasn’t going to look away from him. 

“Why do you use your arrogance but never your words?” he sighed. 

“...He was getting tired— mostly due to the fact he swallowed his poison by mistake,” my lover smirked. “It didn’t take much more for our hero to take him down— especially considering that he was spending no effort in his usual mind games.”

“I’m quite disappointed in you, little hero,” he said mockingly. “How is it that you only wait for the perfect stimuli and then take action— rather than being your own person and making your own choices without environmental factors weighing you down?” He shoved my face away, he shifted his body weight onto his hip so he could exert more powerful blows. I was coughing, struggling to keep up with his strikes and lashes. “Provided by the fact you stood there stupidly as you watched me stroll around my office changing into my clothes.”

“How is it, you blame everyone but yourself?” he added. “Oh, don’t give me that look. I know your lovely little reputation of being a selfless, kind saviour— but in reality, when things start burning up in flames…you attempt to point fingers at everyone around you for ‘forcing’ you to make the choices you did.” 

He kicked at my blade, my wrist bends unnaturally as I feel a tendon snap. I glared at him, with less anger but more fear. He used it as his fuel, as his saving point— he was playing chess with my mind… and winning. 

“...Do you blame me for the death of your lover?”

I ceased. 

“What-?”

“And then… there was silence,” my lover whispered. “It was strange, the house wasn’t shaking anymore— and we didn’t hear anything from either of the two.” She glanced down at me, smiling warmly before continuing. “We assumed the hero had won.”

He chuckled, and his laugh progressed to become more and more maniacal as he stared at my mazed face. He held his stomach, his dark curls shook as his shoulders moved with his lungs. 

“Don’t try and act innocent now,” he finally spoke out. “I knew that your poor, precious lover was actually dead— god forbid that she should’ve just been laid to rest.” My eyes widened as he continued to speak, my mind screaming at him saying NO. “You blamed everyone,” he said. “And you couldn’t accept that the only person who actually tried loving you died.” 

He reached into his pocket for more poison, but soon realised he had none left— and sighed. “Are you a believer in God, bunny?” he questioned. “No? …Hm. Well, do you like to play God, bunny?” 

He stepped forward.

“Playing her great God? Digging up her flowery grave and replanting life into a wilted sunflower?” he spat out. “You’re sickening. A grave digger AND a cruel personification of a necromancer.” He came closer. I lifted my arms out in front of my face in shaky fear. 

“You forced her to be happy when she took her life because she wasn’t,” he said, looking down at me once more. “Everyone thinks she was just blessed by the Gods in the clouds, giving another chance at life— no suspicion rose whatsoever. How did you revive her? Are you a necromancer?”

I stared blankly at him, breathing heavily as he looked at me with impatience. 

“Not going to tell me your pity secrets, huh?” he spat out. “I figured as much, but wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt.” He sighed, leaning down so our noses were inches apart.   

“Do you still loathe me, bunny?” he asked. “Well? Do you still blame me for the death of your lover?” 

“But then… there was a sudden CRASH!” my lover shouted, slamming her fists onto the table in front of me, all the cups and plates wobbled at the intensity. “We came racing up— fearing for our hero!”

I stabbed him. 

I jumped at him, forcing him to crash down onto the wooden floorboards. I clawed at his face while my sword twisted into his intestines. I scratched at his throat as I yelled at him. My mind was hazy, it must have been the smoke at the time. I was angry. Beyond angry. How dare he. How dare he?! HE was the one my lover loved, but he broke her heart by murdering the people from his past… she was a person from his past. She knew them. The dead ones. Every single one of them. Revenge was sweeter to him than love. Toying with people in a way to bring forth meaning and punishment to the word for their sins. She did nothing wrong. Nothing. Just another pawn for his plans. 

He reminds me of the devil.

But I loved him. Even before her—I loved him first. She didn’t know, but he knew— and he loved me back. But I pushed him away. I was foolish when it came to love. And he was cold when it came to mercy. I pushed him towards her, she loved him, afterall— because she was a sunflower that looked for the sun, not a siren. 

But then, sunflowers became my favourite flower. 

They’re bright, special, and yello–

…

…there was red.

…

“We rushed up the strange staircase, smelling pungent chemicals and sourness—” my lover urged. “When we had reached the top, we saw the victory— we saw our hero still alive with the evil man finally defeated.”

No.

Nonononononono. Oh no. Oh god. 

No please–

He just laid there. His face facing to one side; his glossy eyes stared into the deep space of nothingness. His mouth was slightly agape, and a pool of blood mixed with a hint of his green poison fell from his lips and down his chin. I sat on top of him, looking down at his lifeless body. 

My eyes strayed from what was in front of me to one of the many papers scattered across the floor. It was the same paper as he glanced down at beforehand. It was a sketch of me, drawn specific to detail and flattery. His signature kissed the edge of my shoulder. 

“...Do you blame me for the death of your lover?”

“..We saved the kingdom! We brought justice back home,” she announced happily. “We united everyone sane and kind to become one kingdom, so we could work together in harmony.” She pressed her lips together before smiling. “Hail to our hero!”

“Long live the hero!” chanted everyone in the hall.

I wish I had drowned in his poison. 

***

Most of the kids were taken by the hand of their parents and went home. A lot of the drunks were snoring near the fireplaces. My lover sang to me as she brushed my hair out. 

“You know, you remind me of a rabbit,” she pointed out. “You’re quick, smart, adorable… and have really fluffy hair!” 

I stare at her, half registering what she was telling me.

“You’re my amazing little bunny,” she giggled. “I love you, bunny.”

I bit my lip in suffocation. 

“...I love you too, sunflower.”   

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