Sticks & Stones & World Destruction.
They say I'm crazy. But then, what do they know about it? Poor pathetic mortals, faced with something that they can never comprehend, and thus resorting to such petty labels. The truth is they're scared. They're scared of the reality I represent, of the powers that I can control. They're scared of the idea of having to admit that there's more to their world than the simple black-and-white delineations that they favor, and they hate the gray area that I represent.
Most of all though, they're scared because I've won.
Pretty little gold-light-mortal, pretty little cute-doll, do you ever stop crying? Dark-gold-Pharaoh won't come back, not ever, not ever, oh no never, no matter how much you cry. Phoenix tears give life, but you're not a phoenix, you're not phoenix-bright, you're just a human and you're just this side of alive and if I wanted to, I could make you dead-dead-dead!
…oh, at least look frightened at that threat. I could kill you, you know. Kill you dead, now that you no longer have old-gold-dark to protect you, and no shiny-shiny-Puzzle! Silly little gold-light-mortal, you won't stop crying? I'll just pluck out your eyes!
"W-what are you doing? Get away from me!"
Oh, now you protest? Now you pay attention? Too la-te! Too lit-tle, too la-te! I've got your eyes but I've been merciful though, haven't I? I left you your tongue to scream with, and you scream so prettily, fluffy-gold-light, who is not so fluffy anymore but bloody enough to make up for it! And still very pretty. Pretty like your eyes…
I wonder how they'd taste?
You eat one and tell me.
…are you still crying? I can't tell if those are tears or not, under the blood. Did your eye taste that bad? It's okay. I won't make you eat the other one. I'll put it in your dead-gold-Pharaoh-dark's mouth instead! He can't eat it, but look, when I move his mouth like this, it squashes into a mush!
Oh I forgot- you can't see any longer!
Oh well. You're growing boring now anyway and your screams aren't amusing anymore. I think I'll rip your tongue out, then go visit someone else before the world ends.
Crazy, me? The very thought is ludicrous. After all, I won. "To the victor go the spoils", I believe the saying is. It's one of their sayings, so why do they act so shocked? I refuse to believe that I would have been given a pat on the head and a mere lecture about the futility of world destruction if I had lost. Mercy is not something I practice, and sadism is what I've perfected. They can weep and whine and moan all they like; it won't make me change my mind about exacting vengeance.
Like I said, I won.
Silly little cheerleaders, all in a pack! I put you all together because you only have one brain between you, and that one's not functioning! Or at the least, it's stuck on repeat because you never say anything new – when your little gold-light-savior friend was winning, you never did anything but cheer and now that he's lost, all you can do is threaten me!
…and you don't even threaten me very well? Kill me? Foolish little mortals, how would you manage that? And why should that scare me? See, if you want to threaten someone, you should tell them that you'll slice them open from ribcage to ribcage, then pull out their intestines, then loop it over their head like a necklace.
I'll even show you how!
…see, isn't that pretty? All glistening-blue and sick-purple, twisted and knotted neatly. It looks so pretty with your golden hair… shall I do it to you too, little dancer-girl? Can you dance your way out of trouble? Oh look, your insides match your eyes, what a sweet surprise. Aren't you glad you're color-coordinated? Mortals like you must be so vain after all.
And you! Don't think that I forgot about you, silent-pointy-head. Your hair is so odd… I know! I'll loop your guts around that instead, and skewer your liver on the tip of it. Don't you love the way blood from your liver looks? It's so black and dark, instead of the crimson of normal blood. Here, I'll dab your cheeks with it like war paint because if you were really serious about the threats you make, then you'd be at war with me!
But you're not. You're just dead. Like the tiny-gold-light will be soon.
What, no threats at that? Oh yes. The dead don't speak, I keep forgetting that.
Mortals call anything that they don't understand crazy. I've heard people say "That's a crazy idea!" or alternatively, "Are you crazy!". Basically, if it is something that they do not think possible, it is supposedly crazy. Such as the destruction of the world – it's not something that they deem possible, hence it is 'crazy'. And then there's me – a creature who came from the shadows, summoned by hatred. Not something that they believe to be possible either, hence crazy. My ex-host comes in for a fair share of that as well though; they cannot understand what I am, so give my weaker self the label of a MPD-sufferer in order to bend the truth into a form they can comprehend.
Then again, it was supposed to be impossible for me to collect all seven Items and win.
Pretty-pretty-silver-thief, silver-iron-steel! Silver is harder than gold, stronger than gold, and silver-thief is still alive even when golden-Pharaoh is dead and moonlight-light is dead. Silver-thief is white-and-crimson, scarlet-and-snow, pretty when wounded and prettier when panting just like that, all rough-edged and breathless, with dark bitter-chocolate eyes (would they taste as painful as they look?) staring at me like he wants to rip out my heart and eat it. See, that's why he lives! Because when he says he wants me dead, he means it. When he stares at me, he doesn't see me, he sees himself with all the Items.
…but I want him to see me. I want him to see me, to see the person who put in those chains (steel not silver because steel is stronger than silver even if it's not as pretty) and to see the way his death will look. I want him to see me, not himself!
Stupid silver-thief is such a narcissist. I'd blind him if I thought it would do any good, but it wouldn't. Maybe I just need to get closer?
And closer…
And-
"What are you doing?"
Close enough.
Hm. As long as I'm so close, I might as well kiss him. Just to make sure I keep his attention.
…he BIT me! That stupid silver-thief bit me! ME! Silly thief… doesn't he recognize what an honor it is to have me take an interest in his pathetic little existence? He only claims to be the darkness after all; I wasborn from it. The shadows love me best; the darkness knows me for its own.
And I'll teach him that in any way I have to.
They say love can drive people crazy – I suppose that love is just another thing that they don't understand. Mortals are so pathetic. They understand so little. I don't claim to understand their ways either, but at least I try to make sense of them instead of dismissing everything out-of-hand as 'crazy'. Of course, I only bother trying so that I can hurt them with their own weapons, but do reasons really matter in the end?
Nothing matters in the end except that I won and that everything will end.
Poison-eyed-darkling is the last on the list to visit, tiger-eyed-darkling and his lover's cold corpse! Named after a dragon, my pretty demon-like-darkling fell for a dragon-lover, and wept furiously when I broke his blue-eyed lover, then broke him open. I don't know why he did that… I offered him the heart after all. Isn't the heart the best part? I thought that mortals give each other their hearts when they love but the blue-eyed-dragon-dreamer still had his so he obviously didn't love his green-eyed-darkling-lover enough to give his heart away. I told the darkling that, but he didn't seem to feel better. He just tried to keep me fighting me.
I like that a little; he and the silver-thief both fight for real, with everything they have and everything they are. The other silly mortals weep over corpses, but silver-thief made a knife from his weak-snow-light's bones, grinding it against stone to give it an edge, then attacked me. Or tried to at least, until I broke his fingers backwards and laughed. Devil-eyed-darkling (the devil is in people with green eyes who are left-handed or so the mortals say) tried to attack me too, but he was more subtle about it. He scattered his lover's bones over the floor, slicked them with blood, and waited for me to trip before attacking. He didn't win either, but at least he tried.
I think I'll keep him and the silver-thief in the Shadow Realm now. I'll take them there, and destroy this world, then return home. I'm sure the rest of the shadows will want to see them too, the dark-eyed-silver-thief-of-hearts, and the green-eyed-jester (his father was a clown and even when he's sad, he laughs with hysteria but fights anyway).
I think I'll keep them both.
After all, to the victor go the spoils.
Copernicus was crazy. Galileo was crazy. Einstein was crazy. Of course, they were all right as well about the limitations and functioning of their universe. Do mortals take that into account before calling others crazy? I doubt it. Mortals seem to lack the ability to think about their own downfall and plot to avoid it. It's as if the only future that they can predict is one in which they'll be successful.
They didn't realize that they were losing; they were in denial even after I won.
Annnnd, the world is ending! Everything is ending, and it looks so much prettier when it's breaking and burning, when it stops spinning and starts to whirl instead, a black hole in the making. The silver-thief is laughing, laughing and his laughter sounds as pretty as everyone else's screaming does (I was right to keep him but I'm always right, always, always!), and the flames reflect in his eyes, shading the brown to orange just like my eyes are hued in the shades of the shadows. Emerald-eyed-darkling isn't here though, shame, shame. Would have been pretty to see flames in his eyes, to see the green burn like a forest trapped in a fire! Silly mortal chose to die though, die and be with his silly love and they're both silly and they're both dead.
But, doesn't matter! I have my silver-thief (and I gave him the Items all because the world is gone and what use do I have for them now?) and I have my shadows (they are proud of me, they purr their approval, they wrap around me like a hug welcoming me home) and I have my victory, at last complete.
They can call me crazy all they like – or at least, they could if they weren't dead.
It won't change the fact that I've won.
Fin
Author's Note: I wrote this because I dislike the way that YnMalik gets stuck talking babytalk for a lot of the fics that other people write, so wanted to see if I could give it a realistic try. Tell me if it succeeded or not?
And to everyone following Crashing Paradise, thank you so much for your reviews! I'll have the next part posted soon and remember, if you have a livejournal, add onlyfiction as a friend if you want to get to my fiction way before I post anything on (or even read the things that I don't post here!)