Yes, I am still alive. XD
I'll keep this message brief. I got VERY busy. And unmotivated. It happens a lot. But I have a new computer now, so if I feel inspired, I can type as much as I want. :D
Warnings: Abuse, brief language, and violence.
... It appears to be that you've found me. There are many who never do, but I'm glad you did. I assume you are here to kill me, because that's what the script demands, isn't it? Yes, I know all about the script. There are many things you don't know about me, things you would never assume about me. I can tell you some of these things, if you're only willing to lower your bat.
... I wasn't always stuck in here, you know. But it is true that I've spent a lot of time in a place much like this. I know that you're not one to care, but if you'd let me, I would like to tell you my story, if only so that at least one other person will remember me for who I was, and not who I am portrayed to be.
... I was born in a time before the Zones. Not long before, however, as I recall skies gray and thick with smoke. Around the world, the oceans had become polluted and sticky. Almost all animals had become sick and died, wiping out entire species. Almost all plant life had disappeared some time ago. But not at home.
I lived in a village as a child. Have you ever seen one? This one was quite large, almost a town, actually. Here the grass still grew, albeit tough and yellow, and several cows grazed in the fields, even a few horses. The people here had not yet succumbed to the lung illness that had become an epidemic among the human race. Not yet.
My father was king in this village, and what a kind king he was. He made sure that the village always had clean water, and he would regularly visit the farms and help in whatever ways he could. Under his rule, crimes were rarely committed, and when they were, he always judged fairly.
I also had a brother. He was a little older than me, born when the sky was still blue in places. He knew a lot about that time, and he told the best stories about it. He was also very smart. He did well in all of his classes, but he was by far the best at history and fencing.
I was, as my father would lovingly say, the problem child. I almost never did what my mentors asked of me, if I went to their classes at all, and if that night's dinner's dessert disappeared before it could be served, I was usually the culprit. The one thing I took seriously was dance class. Dancing always made me feel free, because I could do it however I wanted. Things in the village were good.
But of course it didn't last.
The soil started to go bad, and the grass started to die. This gave the cows and horses little to eat, and what they did have wasn't enough. All of the horses and most of the cows died. The milk from the surviving cows had absorbed whatever was in the soil. Metal, as it turned out. The villagers tried to make do with the horse meat, but that, too, was laced with metal. This, as well as the lack of good milk, led to the deaths of many, and those who survived were either sick or hungry.
All this happened within a few weeks, and everything was putting a lot of strain on the kind king. He put a ban on the cows' meat, fearing that it, too, was afflicted, leaving few options for food. He attempted trading the now-abundant metal for food from other lands, but we were given very little in the exchange. The king couldn't keep up with his village's constant demand for food and clean water, and he quickly became irate.
My brother, however, kept his head held high. He believed that, somewhere, there was a place untouched by the impurity of the world. He felt that, if he travelled far enough, he would find green grass, clear skies, and an abundance of delicious food that most had forgotten ever existed. And thus, after a few weeks of preparation, he left, armed with only a dagger, to find this paradise, and wouldn't return until he'd found it.
For many weeks after that, the king was hopeful, putting on a brave face for the people of the village until his son returned with their salvation. But with each passing day, the gleam in his eyes would fade just the tiniest bit. When a full year had passed with no sign of his son, he just gave up. A funeral was held in his favorite field, now just a large patch of dirt. And things only got worse.
The king had taken to yelling any time something didn't go right. Trade had improved, but he was bitter anyways. Here and there he'd yell at a man for not fetching water on time, exile the chefs if the food wasn't to his exact liking. I once saw him chop a man's hand off for taking a bread roll for himself.
Even I, his own daughter, wasn't spared his wrath. If I skipped a lesson, stole food, tripped a servant, so much as looked at my father funny, I was often treated to a slap to the face. And then he'd always ask me, why couldn't I be more like my brother? He took his classes, respected his elders, and always showed gratitude for what he had. To him, his son was perfect, a hero. And I, I was the problem child.
Over time, I began to accept the fact that this was who my father was now. No longer was he the kind man who regularly greeted his people with a warm smile. Now he was just a bitter man who dwelled on the past and refused to acknowledge the present. All he knew how to do now was take his anger out on those around him. I eventually grew to resent him.
One day, I lost any value I had left to him. It started when he noticed me picking at my meat. Even though it came from a land far from here, I could still taste the harsh tang of metal. The king ordered me to eat it. When I didn't, he slapped me across the cheek so hard that I hit the floor, and I decided I'd had enough.
I hit him back.
It did very little harm, but it was a long time before he moved again. When he did, it was to swing at me with a closed fist. I felt my jaw pop, and immediately tasted blood. But this time he didn't stop with just one blow. He hit me again, this time in the stomach, then once more. I turned to my side and coughed up a mouthful of spit and blood, too shocked to do anything else.
When I finally dared to look up, I didn't even recognize the man standing over me. His face was purple, the corners of his mouth pulled back in an ugly snarl.
"So this is how it's going to be," he'd said. "I give you food, I give you shelter, and this is how you repay me? I give you a place to stay, and this is the thanks I get?! Perhaps I should take it all away from you, and we'll see how ungrateful you are then!"
After that, he roughly grabbed me with an arm around my stomach and carried me off. I kicked, screamed, and called for help, but the servants pretended that they didn't hear me, that they didn't know what was happening, lest they, too, face the king's wrath.
I didn't know where he was taking me. At first, I'd assumed that he was throwing me out. But we weren't heading for the front doors. Rather, we went in the opposite direction, towards the back. I was carried down an unfamiliar staircase that spiraled dizzyingly downwards. It was very dark, and it seemed to go on almost forever. But finally, we came to a very heavy-looking door. The king opened it with his free hand, then quite literally threw me inside, closing the door before I could even think to run back out. I heard a click, then all was silent.
I didn't know exactly how long I was stuck in that room, but I had a lot of time to get familiar with it. It was rather small; if I really stretched, I could touch one side with my toe and the other with a flat palm. The walls and floor were made of cold stone, in places caked with something flaky that I tried not to think too deeply about. The corner suspiciously reeked of urine. Several attempts to escape revealed that the door had no handle on the inside, nor did the room have any windows. I couldn't see a thing.
When it became clear that I would not be getting out any time soon, I spent a lot of my time leaning against one wall, tapping my finger against it to keep the time. If I needed to stretch my legs, I would stand up and practice my steps to the rhythm that I'd made for myself. Dancing let me forget that I was being held prisoner in my own home. That is, until I started to get hungry.
I don't think that I ate for several days, although it could just as easily have been only a few hours. I could no longer dance, and I spent my time slumped against the wall. I gave up on the rhythm.
Just as I thought I'd die in that dungeon, I heard the door groan as it opened. I didn't get up. The light footsteps told me that it wasn't the king come to retrieve me, but one of the servants, who stopped just short of me. I could actually hear him fidgeting.
After a moment, the servant bent down and placed something by my feet. "I'm...only supposed to be checking on you..." he said. "But...I-I don't think this is right...This is...all I can do..." Then he hurriedly left the dungeon, closing the door behind him.
I waited a long time after he'd left before I decided to inspect whatever he'd left at my feet. It gave a little under my touch, and I picked it up. I recognized it as meat, and I was almost dizzy with relief. I put it to my lips, and despite the harsh metallic taste, I ate every last piece. How ironic, I'd thought, that I was trapped here for refusing to do this very thing.
After that, the servant would occasionally sneak in to bring me food. Sometimes he would also bring water, or on rare occasions whatever was left of dessert. Every time, he seemed to get more anxious, and I couldn't help but notice the now ever-present rasp in his voice. I wondered how the king could fail to protect his people now on any level.
A long time after, the dungeon door was opened once again. I immediately knew that this was a different servant; he struggled to push the door open, surprised by how heavy it was. As soon as he'd properly gotten through, he turned in my general direction. I heard the shuffle of clothing as he pulled something out of his pocket, but he didn't move towards me. Evidently he expected me to get it.
As I stepped closer, I could hear the shallow wheeze of his breathing. I took whatever it was he'd wanted to give me, and he flinched away from me, wiping his hands on his pants. Quirking an eyebrow, I gave the object, a small packet of something, an experimental sniff. It smelled sweet.
"The...Th-h-he king..." he said, "...Um...This is...hhh...the last thing...y-you'll receive...hhh...Expect...no more visits...f-from the previous servant...hhh...or from...anyone else..."
"Why?" I asked. "What happened to the other one?"
The servant trembled, letting in a rattling breath. "I-h-h-h-h-h...I-I must go now...Th-The king...doesn't like...to be kept waiting..." Quickly, he made his way through the door, mumbling a string of apologies as he closed the door.
For once, I was thankful for the incompetence of the servants. He didn't even notice that I'd slipped through the door he'd carelessly left open during his visit. Still, I waited several minutes before even thinking about making my way up the stairs.
After being stuck in such a small room for such a long time, walking seemed to have become an alien concept. Having not been used for so long, my legs didn't seem to want to work right, and the once simple task of walking, let alone up a flight of stairs, seemed almost impossible. But I refused to give up, knowing that the only other option was to go back, and pushed on. After several hours, I finally made it to the top.
I couldn't believe the sight I was met with.
My home was utterly trashed. The floor was scattered with dirt and broken glass, and the walls and ceiling were all but coated with a thick, black liquid I couldn't name. Many of the family portraits had been either torn down or ripped apart. A guard stood at every doorway, even to the dining area, the silence only broken by an occasional wheeze or cough.
Despite knowing it would be best to stay hidden, I walked up to the closest guard and asked, "What's happened here?"
The guard flinched back with such ferocity I was amazed he didn't snap his own neck. That being said, he held a clenched fist up to his mouth, attempting to stifle a series of coughs and high-pitched, choked breaths. When he'd managed to calm himself down, he drew his hand away from his mouth. It came away black.
"Hhhhhhh-um...Y-You shouldn't...khm...be up here...You're...You're i-in a lot of trouble w-with the king, you know..."
"The king..." I mumbled, letting my unanswered question drop. "Where do I find him? I'd like to give him a piece of my mind."
I heard the guard mutter something that sounded like "that's gross" before he decided to answer me. "Um, th-the king is...uhhhh...out...right now...hhh...He-He's running his...errands, uh...m-making sure...everyone is working...everyone is helping...But youhhhhh...you aren't...allowed outside..."
"Well, that's where I'm going," I replied, pushing my way past him. He stumbled and coughed, letting out a string of "oh dears" and "my goodnesses," but he made no attempt to stop me. I made it past the one at the front doors with the same lack of difficulty. Useless guards.
The view outside was even worse. Several people were milling about the village, exhaling so much smoke I couldn't even see the tops of the buildings through the smog. There was blood, black ooze, chunks of metal, and even feces everywhere I looked. In one area I saw people chopping up cows and extracting metal boulders larger than my head. In another, small bottles were used to scoop up meat from a bubbling pool in the ground. Off in the distance, people whose hands were chained together filed into a short building with billowing smoke stacks. Some were calm, if not dismal, but many were frantic. I saw one's head explode as the body became a mess of flailing limbs before it ceased moving altogether. There wasn't a single human being, if they could be called that anymore, that wasn't busy with something, even if they were exhausted.
What had the king done to the village in my absence?
When I heard my name called in a loud, booming voice, I knew I was in trouble. Defiantly, I turned my head to face the king.
In stark contrast to his people, the king was very round, enough so that his limbs looked thin and frail in comparison. In his bald, round head, his eyes were bulging in their sockets, and his thin lips were twisted into an ugly, ferocious snarl. He didn't even look like the same man. This man had a cold authority that could not be denied.
"You," he spat out through yellowed teeth, "You should have rotted away months ago. That fool knew what hew was getting himself into."
I knew that he spoke of the guard. "What did you do to him?!"
"None of your concern. This time, no one will be willing to help you, you insolent little bitch!" Ending in an angry roar, he grabbed at my hand. I pulled it away, but his next lunge had an arm around my neck. I clawed at it, tried to pry it off, but his grip was firm, cutting off the smoke as he dragged me back towards the castle. I struggled to escape, because I knew that if I went back into that dungeon, I would not be getting back out.
I had nearly resigned myself to my fate when I heard a light, pleasant voice from behind us. "Greetings."
The king stopped in his tracks, slowly turning to face the stranger. The man was around my height, if not a little shorter, wearing a white shirt that displayed a red heart. The oddest thing about him wasn't that he'd just said hello to the king as if he weren't holding me by the neck, but that he wore a white mask, fashioned into the face of a grinning cat. He and the king stood still, sizing each other up.
The king was the first to speak, narrowing his eyes dangerously. "Who are you?"
The masked man casually stuck his thumbs into his pockets and dodged the question. "You look very different from the last time I saw you, Your Majesty. Or are you even the same man? Oh dear, the king seems to have been replaced by a toad!" He said the last with a lighthearted chuckle.
The king sneered, finally releasing his grip on me in favor of approaching this strange man. "Explain yourself and explain yourself quickly, for I am losing my patience."
The man casually looked around himself, at all of the people, worked to the bone and still working, even despite his odd presence. He was clearly baiting the king. He didn't speak until the older man looked ready to burst. "What I want," he said conversationally, "is for you to cease your reign of tyranny, Toad King."
The Toad King spluttered. "What?! Preposterous! Do you realize how long it's taken me to get here? How much I have sacrificed? And yet you have the gall to expect me to give it all up just because some brat asks me to?! You have some nerve, intruding upon my kingdom and making such ludicrous demands, and now you'll suffer the consequences!"
And suddenly the two had crossed blades, silver against white. The Toad King pulled back, attempting a thrust, but it was easily parried by the other. No matter what the enraged king did, he couldn't penetrate the masked stranger's defenses. That is, until he struck out at his mask.
There was a sudden flash, and the man was behind the king, sword extended. Out of his back spread two huge wings, shining like silver and reflecting blue in the light, making me think of the clear skies I'd only heard of in stories. And suddenly they were gone, ant the Toad King slumped to the ground, dead.
I should have been afraid of the man that had just slain my father, but when he looked my way, all I felt was curiosity. "...Who are you?"
The man seemed to think for a moment, tilting his head to the side. But then, he lifted his mask. It was a brief glimpse, but I recognized the dimpled, lopsided grin, and I felt a smile tugging at my lips.
Then, Zacharie turned and walked up to the Toad King's corpse before kneeling by its head. After a moment he stood up, and the king was short a face. I didn't ask what he wanted it for.
After that, he told me he'd found a wonderful place with skies broken only by the thinnest wisps of cloud, and smoke that was easy to breathe. There were three rulers there, each kinder than the last, who would be happy to welcome us. So of course, I agreed to go with him.
But the world had changed so much while I was gone, I couldn't make sense of it, couldn't understand it. Zacharie led me to the home he'd made for himself, and brought me into this room, detached from everything. Here, he'd said, the world couldn't touch me. He'd said he would come back for me when I was ready.
But he hasn't come back, and since that time, the world has broken apart and fallen into ruins. People have forgotten their purpose and turned on each other. This world has become such an awful place.
...Perhaps what you are doing is a good thing. Maybe you'll be the one to condemn and destroy this world, and in doing so leave it a clean slate. We can start over, make the world a better place. Go ahead, please, kill me now and be on your way, but first promise me one thing...
Tell Zacharie I said hi.
:-)