With a long finger — he should stop biting the edges — he knocked over the white marbled queen. It fell rather ungracefully, half onto a black square and the other half onto a white one. Dull blue eyes looked at the fallen queen with distaste. She was weak in his eyes. It wasn't surprising, though, he thought everyone was weak. Even he was weak, had a weakness, albeit he would never admit so outloud.
But Motou was weaker. As well as that...
"Pharaoh..." The title sighed past his lips.
No, not pharaoh. Pharaoh's were long gone — before his time — and no one could bring them back. Even thouse gold, ridiculous looking "Millenium Items" couldn't bring back the dead. Oh, there might have been a Pharaoh before that had slipped through history, that wasn't so uncommon, but the dead couldn't come back. Not for real, anyway. Maybe in his holograms or on the T.V, but never in reality. Motou was weak because of that. Motou and his friendship fellows obviously did not live in reality, like he did, because if they were in reality they wouldn't indulge themselves with those gold items they hopelessly believed in. Although, with Motou and that kid with the weird hair color — Bakura? — a simple case of schizophrenia could be applied.
He refused to believe that there was something — besides scientific reasoning — that could explain that change Motou always went through when he dueled, or at other times.
He refused to believe that the reason why Motou's eyes would glaze over and his lips would move without a sound wasn't any other case but boredom.
But when he closed his eyes, sometimes, he would see things that weren't supposed to be there. Once he saw a Yuugi look-alike with tan skin and jewelry — that ridiculous large upside-down pyramid — and an outfit that screamed Egyptian, and himself with the same tan skin while clothed with a dorky hat and weird robes, but he had blamed that on an overactive imagination. Another time he had seen that Yuugi look-alike cupping that necklace of his and speaking to it — the day his kingdom needed him the most — and then just dissapear. He had felt anger then because the weak coward had left them all with the ruins that were left of Egypt, and even when he was told it was to seal off the problem he had still felt anger because his cousin — the only relative he acknowleged — had still left.
He placed the finger he had used to knock the queen down onto the upright base, flipping the piece so it stood correctly.
Die. Live?
No, impossible. A human was a multi-celled organism that thrived like anything else, didn't have any special magic or 'soul' that would pop up again. When it died, everything died, and that was that. No special heaven or hell or purgatory or reincarnation. Satisfied with his reasoning, he knocked the queen over and sat back into his chair. He closed his eyes.
...They say denial is a river in Egypt...