Jun Yabriel: Book II is coming closer to fruition! And in a way, like I described in my summary, it's Part 2 to Interlude I-II. I need to focus on a couple other projects first before my head can make room for Book II's development. In the meantime, Happy (early) Father's Day...
Warning: Heavy suggestions of murder, bodily excrement/vomit, dismemberment, and emotional/verbal abuse.
CONTINUE AT YOUR OWN RISK.
Mon Coryphée
"Son Père Cygne Noir"
Beams, columns, heralds of light. As if angels were gazing upon that night themselves, the Opera House glittered. Glorious gold, opulence. The playgoers were dressed for the occasion. They seemed worthy, so they passed through. That gold cupola featured heavenly rings of winged spectators, messenger and soldier alike. Feigning Gustave Doré's "The Empyrean," they looked so beautiful. An underlying theme seemed to decorate the building. Sheer tapestries and bejeweled props were placed around the seventeenth theater's entrance. As if to cross into Heaven itself—even the ushers were wearing white.
Somehow distressed by the setup, Sonic lowered his eyes.
"We have to get you out of here."
Sonic brought Shadow into a princess-style lift. Braided cherry-twined umber was abandoned. The door was kicked open. Night had fallen, quite suddenly.
"But my father will catch us. He'll skin you alive."
Heaven could not be feigned. Shadow knew that too well. Theater XVII couldn't replicate Heaven's unknowable beauty. No manmade establishment or creation could emulate it. And besides, it couldn't be Heaven even as it tried.
Because Shadow's mother was nowhere to be found.
The main houselights brightened the glittering crystals in the chandeliers. Sonic felt under-dressed, despite the tuxedo Shadow helped him buy. He remembered the money that could buy a new gaming console with ease being slipped into his shirt pocket. Shadow's stern gaze signaled a promising nod.
The sky-blue handkerchief peeked neatly out of his front pocket. Shadow wanted to make sure the color didn't agitate any of his father's suspicions. The white tux made an intimidating self-impression on Sonic. "I hope these people don't think I'm some CEO's son…" the prayer flittered across his heart.
"Ladies and gentlemen," chimed the female AI, "presenting this evening's venue: Wilhelmshaven Academy's Première Danseur, Shadow the Hedgehog, in the accompaniment of the Imperial Pentecostal Choir and Symphony Orchestra. Performing to 'Out of Darkness,' sung by the Aubrey Sisters."
Before he knew it, the houselights were dimming. Applause was cued, and Sonic snapped himself out of his reveries to follow suit. The claps faded out of his ears. The orchestra strummed, began to harmonize. Crystal sparkles disappeared. Darkened. An air of misery fell over the entire stage.
With all the pomp and circumstance, an angelic presence was the furthest thing from Sonic's mind when Shadow appeared center-stage. Sonic's heart dropped, seeing that Shadow was the darkest, blackest thing in the room.
"There won't be a live skinning for either of us as long as we keep moving."
Freshly clipped under-spines swayed in the nighttime wind. That outside world couldn't be marveled, out of fear. Shadow clung to Sonic as the blue hedgehog dashed through the prickles surrounding that tower. His determined glare focused on the dash. Ignorant of the tears Shadow shed. Of the shame he couldn't hide.
"It's all futile. Don't save me. I'm not worth saving."
Expert movements began from 3rd position.
Listen to my voice calling you,
Pulling you out of darkness.
Hear the devil's cry of sin;
Always turn your back on him.
With the wind you go—
still I dream of your spirit leading you back home.
I will give my gifts to you;
grow your garden, watch it bloom!
The choirs at his back lifted the audience's hearts. Those strings were sublime. Heaven had descended upon Earth. The lead trio of virtuosi motioned elegance, a story, but not one Sonic could connect to; only imagine. Their blonde grades of curls, waves, and bone made them look like Grecian muses. Although, adornments of white and gold seemed to be the only common link between them and angels.
But Shadow was wearing black. Black toe shoes, black pants, that black widow bustle, black feathers, a black sash, even a veil. A widow—in total undeniable essence. And Sonic wanted to know why.
Flecks of sequin popped out of gossamer ribbons. Somehow the black widow's hump on his backside appealed to the audience's matrons. Lace, satin, crinoline nettings—like a widow caught in her own web, Shadow danced and twirled, stretched and leapt, strained and struggled.
Notably glassy eyes shut down Shadow's awareness; his auto-pilot had been engaged.
The light in your eyes is an angel up high,
fighting to ease the shadow side.
Hearts will grow, though having to bend,
leaving behind all things in the end.
Endlessly twirl. Perpetuate the legacy. Learn the positions proper. Utilize them in all of your performances.
"Please, do not save me, Sonic."
Do not tangle the strings, Shadow. Do not misstep, Shadow. Do not compete with the orchestra, Shadow. Do not succumb to stage fright, Shadow.
"I'm not worth saving—it's too late for me."
Do not embarrass me, Shadow. Do not disappoint me, Shadow.
"I've already been made up…"
Do not disobey me.
"For my funeral."
Do not fail.
The rose-briar finally ended. Sonic had rescued his princess. Relief drifted in like the lake fog. Huffing and puffing, Sonic set Shadow to his feet. "There…see?" Sonic breathed, smirking in assurance. "I told you we'd make it. Now then"—He pulled on Shadow's hand—"Let me get you out of here…so you can finally be—?!"
SNAP!
Shadow collapsed. Fear bled from his eyes. Wordlessness filled the lakefront. Only for a moment to pass, for Shadow's father to appear. A king of thorns, he made a hand motion. The carnation-shaped flytrap slithered through the rose-briars toward him. Crunching on Sonic's head all the while.
"You have broken the paramount agreement in this relationship, Shadow."
Falsely pure wings blossomed from his back. The lake's fog went rancid, mephitic in odor and merciless in strength. Shadow gagged.
"You tried to escape me. In doing so, you failed. At the cost of another's life…What say you, boy?"
The performance felt artificial. Sonic couldn't feel any love or see any effort in Shadow's movements. They were rigid. They looked too stiff, even for a danseur like him. Was he even trying? Or maybe trying too hard? No one was saying anything. Were they disapproving his style? He couldn't tell blink or wink whether they were captivated or not. A nervous gulp slipped down Sonic's throat. It glassed his eyes, as well. He growled under his breath. "Oh no…!"
Listen to my voice calling you,
Pulling you out of darkness.
Hear the devil's cry of sin;
Always turn your back on him…
"What in the world…?"
Sonic snapped his eyes to a couple a few seats away. The missus was whispering things to her husband. She seemed to have an irritated look on her face. A palpitation slipped under Sonic's shirt. So did the sweat drop along his jaw line.
On him…!
Shadow watched the briar's thorns raise, shoot upward, curl and twist. Faces—of disgust and displeasure—were made at him. Sonic's headless corpse rotted, flesh peeling where droplets of Shadow's purge had landed. It burned, acidic, making Shadow's stomach knot and kink even more. Tears competed to take over his face. Hyperventilation set itself in.
"Return, Shadow. You have failed me for the last time." He showed a giving hand, despite his sternness and aggravation. "I am recanting your blessing, Black Swan, and sending you home."
"Repugnant child!"—"Obey your creator!"—"How dare you defy him!"—"Heathen!"—"Beg for his gracious mercy!"—"Impudent child!"—"Repent! Repent! Repent! Repent!"
Those faces were ugly. But their fanged chants destroyed Shadow's will to fight back. So did that stony glare. That false light. Airy, yet brimming with absolute power and deceit. Shadow's pitiful wings could only droop in comparison. He reached out to his father, begging for forgiveness.
He got up from his throne. The carnation-flytrap tore apart to trellis into a column. The bloom itself served as an elevator of sorts. In a single nerve-rackingly slow movement, Shadow's father stepped into it. Turning his back on him.
"Please! Father! I'm sorry!" the boy coughed. "I'll never disobey you again—just bring him back!"
A disdain the boy could see from a mile away was painted onto the man's face.
"Bring him back, Father! I'm begging and crying for you! Please, have mercy!"
The man's wings flared as he showed him a refuting palm.
His coldness etched into Shadow's core. He had scrounged around to retrieve Sonic's head. It was left disfigured, to melt in Shadow's arms. It burned, yet he shivered, paralyzed by fear and anguish. It hissed at him, bubbling not in vengeance, but in regret.
"No! Bring him back to me!"
Shadow couldn't feel his heartbeats anymore. He couldn't feel himself breathing anymore. His body moved on its own; there was no stage fright anymore. The sheen his carmines held had emptied. Blanked. Despaired. He still plié'd, still jeté'd, and cabrioled, and arabesqued. He pirouetted within the closing spotlight. Dizziness didn't bother him. Disorientation did not come. Only the orchestra's final strums, the choir's final notes, the Sisters' final verse. And a finishing pose.
On him!
Rapunzel's only hope left was dead. It was rotting away in his arms, slipping through his fingers, sliming all over his chest, and it made his father's smile—sickeningly so. Empyrean briars twisted about, telling him to repent over and over again in demented snarls. The stench strengthened. Madness assailed him. As his father marveled every moment that brought him closer to losing every nerve and wit.
Just before screaming to the top of his lungs, "Father, bring him back to me!"
Dead roses. Dead eyes. Then, soul-crushing, impending, unavoidable guilt.
"I…failed him. Again."
"Son Père Cygne Noir" Set.
Quick Ref: Insert Song - "Out of Darkness" by Aubrey Ashburn, Devil May Cry 4 OST.