July 16, 2012 - 9:32pm — SarieBearie
[=10]If Vipin was certain of anything, they were few in number:
The sky was a huge blue eye, and the sun was blonde. He was also fairly certain of another thing—he was alive. But he didn’t know for sure. He had been here for so long, in the world without trees, with only several reoccurring characters for company. Two of these characters were his sisters, one a tall, barb-tongued rebel with steel blue eyes, who he had known for a very long time, who was the other side of his soul, the rougher, more sarcastic side. That wasn’t all she was, though. He could see emotions well behind her eyes and feel sobs in her steps and could sense feeling in every breath she took. His other sister, the fairly boned, gossamer peacock, was small and rarely spoke. She had marvelously violet eyes that changed shades if you stared too long, and a heart that swelled bigger than her tiny body.
There were a few other characters. One was a golden stag whose antlers, rooted to his head, stemmed far into the sky. He was always accompanied by a slender, charming red doe who could evaporate into thin air. Together they created a dynamic of sorts, with the stag’s earthly presence and the doe’s watery effervescence, and it was strangely comforting, but Vipin rarely saw them. They came and went as they pleased, to nowhere in particular, leaving flowers wherever they stepped. He wished they would stay when he approached them. The stag always disappeared in a lightning-strike of branches and the doe turned into the sky. It left him with his sisters and three other figures.
These three figures were royalty; a king, a queen, and the Black Hand's prince.
The king, Nevermore, was dead. As was the queen, Azalea, and her prince, Calisto. Vipin knew this well. His sister, the tall one with steely gaze, had stabbed Azalea straight through the eyes. He himself had murdered Nevermore on a starless, black night. Calisto had died much earlier.
