Work Text:
Oro slammed the bottom of his golden chiseled cane against the pure marble ground and looked down at the servant in front of him who wore an awfully weary look on his scrunched up face. The servant lifted his arms to offer the glass on the silver tray to his Majesty who took the glass hastily enough to make half of the fluid slip out of the rim onto the ground and partially the tray. The servant lowered his gaze onto the spoiled tray before him and took the tray away as servants rushed in from every corner in almost frantic worry with silken rags to clean the spill caused by Oro. The King watched them with a discontented frown as his boney hand clenched the pole of his cane even more tight than ever before. He lifted his arm, the hand that carried the flute of champagne poked out the index finger towards the door signaling for the meek and lowly men below him to leave the moonlit shaped halls at once. Once they’ve left his face, he crossed his legs a moment before unraveling them with grace and then stood up nice and tall and crossed down from the pedestal to make free and eager steps towards the large doors embedded in the thick polished walls. Then did he drop his glass to the ground and let it shatter while he walked away to attend to duties while the servants darted back into the hall afterwards to clean his mess like the good men they are. Across the halls Oro spotted his dear wife and he took her hand with gentle precision once they were facing each other and before letting his lips rest atop of it he whispered sentimental words of affection to the younger woman such as “I’ve missed you, my dear.”. But she’d chuckle with teasing malice at the Kings utter devotion to her, she did so with such delight. Their voice echoed through the dim and stranded halls of the palace.
“Why,” Aster, a young blond man laid on his back at a turquoise cushioned bench. His eyes were closed, shadows of his long eyelashes captivated the soulful look of his face in the blazing sun. The star illuminated his face and defined his soft features as he parted his light cherry lips that were only a bit plump. His mind overflowed with clouds until they painted a scene. He looked at himself from afar and saw himself, at war with his chin raised in defiance and his eyes showed perplexity. His hair swooshed and curled with the wind in a waltz while the stallion under him pointed its knees upwards and its left calve brushed against his thigh before charging left to enemies. Autumn breeze hit like a lightning bolt, so hard it almost woke him up. But no, he was trapped and he watched himself in a vision that only seemed real in another universe. His smile ached in war and his hand was latched onto his saber with passion that’d set reality to flames. The time passed during this dream and it went on forever and it seems at times that the horse rode in a rather slanted style and tripped into the thin air below, where reality lost visuality and souls were condemned as well as demented. Time twirled through his fingers and crawled upon his skin, sent a heated but cold shiver through his body as he tried to widen his eyes to reality as his stallion began to trot upon gods forgotten wasteland in the dream that felt so far away from him but also so close like he is already living reality through a dream where he is apart from his own soul. His arm raised in battle and he swung his sword in the dream at the hallucination that connected in his vision, he swung with such force towards what wasn’t real that he sliced his horses neck. The neck now hung by half a heavy slab of meat and flesh. When the man he barely recognized anymore realized what he was fighting he disarmed himself and retreated although the horse rejected his desire for an escape. It had already suffered enough from the humans cruelty and then decided to charge further into the wasteland that began to get clouded by mist. With every step of a hood the world tore and the fabric of time ripped, fog consumed all and tracked through the path. It ate up all familiarity. Once his eyelids lifted Aster Sonnet exhaled with disturbance and his body shot up in an instant, then he was sitting up. He titled his head down and scrutinized over his real and alive frame that seemed to be almost trembling with quite a weary and dissociated gaze. He tried standing back up but then his legs pulled him back to his cushioned bench with such an unsteady force. His body seized slowly but electrically so that he was temporarily bound to the bench below his frailer frame that convulsed with precision. He took a hand up to his face and trod his fingers through his blond curls in unimaginable distress, the dream was too vivid and so very incomprehensible. Dusk seeped through the cracks of day, consumed the sky until it was nightfall. Clouds bundled in the sky and at a glance the moon sat atop of two clouds below it that grew smaller within each minute, They concealed the ethereal and intense moonlight as well. He had realized he dreamt too much and then stood up to follow his shadow through the halls of the palace towards the tall play curtains made up of colors war like the sun. Stitches were woven into the curtains with the finest of silks and they conjured multiple pictures of the greatest men and women who ever ruled Grimspire, his home. The quietness of night consumed the palace and then it left Aster in a deep slumber where he hadn’t dreamt
Later into the evening the fire blew viciously as Aster sat in a chair, the bottoms of his wrists slack against the cushioned arm rests that were a hue of cedar green and gold at the wooden rims. The large thing ate up his frame as he looked into the distance of the hall with a blank gaze only illuminated by the flames before him.