Disclaimer: I can barely draw my own face, how could I even have my own manga? Therefore, I'm not Kohta Hirano.
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The pale moon had turned scarlet, bathing London in eerie light. The last shrieks of those about to be killed and about to kill danced through the air only to be marred by the anguish of the flames; its orange tears streaking down the cheeks of centuries-old roofs sharing in their grief, sinking to the melody that was destruction.
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"Miss Integra, I distinctly remember having said lights out at nine."
"A few more pages and I'll be done, I promise."
A sigh, "Very well then."
"Walter?"
"Yes, miss Integra?"
"Why doesn't Father tuck me in anymore?"
…
"Walter?"
"That's because you're going to be a young lady soon. Who are you reading about anyway?"
"Sir Lancelot of the Lake."
"…You like him?"
"He fights for the lady."
"But…?
"He stole her from the king."
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Gone were the blooms that delighted many a passerby, only to be replaced by spikes much larger than them, glistening red from the passerby themselves that the spikes claimed for their own. Their mouths hung wide open, eternally frozen in shock; their eyes soullessly white, their faces similar from one to the next: the look of one who recognizes the dark angel when it greets them at their door.
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"This is London? It's not real, is it?"
"You don't like it?"
"London is burning; of course I don't like it! Do you?"
"Hmph."
"…You did this, didn't you? But you're a knight; you're supposed to protect people!"
"I follow my lady's desires."
"No lady would desire this; no lady would ask for death and destruction. That's just wrong."
"Queen Guinevere did just that."
"You, sir, are no Sir Lancelot."
"The first casualty of war is innocence, little one."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"See me again in a couple of years or so, and you'll know."
"Leaving before you give your name, sir knight?"
His laughter rang in her ears.
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In the midst of the chaos was a man dressed in full battle regalia decorated in blood, his knee down on the ground, his head bowed low as his raven hair played with the shadows that swayed behind him. He was in front of a woman clothed in white, her body statuesque, her eyes behind glinting glasses as her long blonde hair flowed with the breeze, barely touching the sword in her hand.
"Do you like your present, my lady?"
She smiled.
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A/N: The characters are Integral, Vlad, and Walter, in case you were still baffled. King Arthur, Sir Lancelot, and Queen Guinevere is from Le Morte d'Arthur, which is (if I'm correct), England's epic. I also took a bit from Mark Twain's A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court.
Sigh, I need to know what you're thinking. Did the story work? Did you detect the plot, the conflict? I tend to veer towards the less-is-more concept, in other words, I use plenty of erasures. Replies would really help a lot.
cheers.