Let me sing for you, sing a song of beauty and pain, bled together in perfect Harmony.

Let me paint a melody, a tune divine, till you have fallen into these arms of mine.

Let me sculpt sorrows, let me create a beauty of shadows and scorn, of death and life and fragments of you reborn.

Let me offer you memories of the past, and what may come to be.

Listen to the bitter-sweetness of this breath-taking Harmony.

The night fell heavy with darkness. It had been as though some Ogre had come in, stolen the stars and placed them in a burlap sack, wanting them for his very own just because they gave him great torment with their beauty and with their light.

I watched the twins moving about their new domain. Valo lingering by the grand piano, fingering the keys yet producing no sound. His lips moved in some silent song that I could not comprehend. His hair was like spun gold, nearly touching his shoulders now, and he made no noise with his bare feet. He looked like some fucking angel, like some divinity created out of the brush stroke of some eccentric. Perhaps I had created him in my mind so long ago, and wished him here so badly that I finally brought him to life. I created him out of hope and dreams and things that were laced with silver and gold.

Then in the darkest corner of the room he stood, Zethar. His name was that of an angels...an angel of madness. There were moments of insanity that I sought to destroy him, but taking one would mean taking the other as well. I was not ready to let that happen, yet. An eternal scowl fell upon his face and his eyes were shadowed in an anger I could not sometimes understand. His hair was unlike his brothers. It was black, black as the pits of hell, darker than a wizard’s heart. I watched him move to the huge bay window that overlooked the city of the Penthouse Suite and watched as he clambered up on the sill and planted his hands on the cool glass. If the glass were to break free and he fell to the ground, would he sprout wings in the nick of time and save his wretched soul? If only there was a way to separate them...but could one ever separate the good and the bad in their own being? Was it possible to achieve such a task? Without bad, could good exist?

No lights were on, I preferred it that way. The illumination of the candles was enough. I was not in the mood for bright anyhow, I wanted to linger in the shadows and watch my two dolls as they floated across the elaborate room till I could watch them no more.

In the sanctuary of my chambers, I looked out my window at Sanfield. I knew no one here, no one save Thomas Arturo. A new place, a new home, a language I rarely spoke.

But I knew that this was for the best, for them and for me. Paris had grown stale. The melodies that floated over the cobblestone streets began to drive me insane. I would sometimes hear his voice calling to me...Alexander, my sire. ‘Stop it! Stop that infernal sound!’ His hands would clamp over his ears and he would gasp and shiver until I would drop my paint  brush or chisel and rush over to him, begging him to calm down. ‘Your voice, the melody you sing over and over and over again...’ then he would lower his tone and whisper, ‘make it stop.’ He said my voice was like a sirens..eerie, and he could not keep on listening to it for it would drive him to his death. Perhaps that was why he left us. You see Paris holds too many memories, as does Athens...but I do not want to think about that now, now is the time for rebirths...

The wind rushes though the window as I open to let the winter’s breeze in, it trickles along my hair and brushes against my ear, telling me that I am now here to start anew, to find my Paradise Lost, to start creating great works again, to keep my Shadow Dolls and I safe...

...Safe from Harm.

Then I smile. Yes, this is the right thing to do. Tomorrow all of us shall commence.  

--Last edited by Harmony Alexander on 2009-01-29 20:45:43 --