Mon Coryphée
Book I, Mes Larmes
"COSMIC JUDGMENT Caesura"
Ghostly ribbons: Innumerable holds suspend me from highest. The Ring is so small. I hold it in tender hands. My White King has turned a furious Red. The opposing Black King has Armored himself with Poison. Both are below a kneel; both are heavily damaged. But their weapons hold tried and true.
"I bestow unto thee, My Dearheart, Love and Grace," I sanction.
White ruffles want him to stir. My white bustle pleads movement. Crimson lace—coursing through my streaks, my eyes, my veins—flourish in apprehensive coils. The ghostly tethers weaken, cradle me, with this tiny Ring in my hands.
My eyes peer down at them. The Armorer does not move. His pins have made themselves a pincushion in my hands. Their Poison has pierced him, and my Belovéd. Carnelian puddles around them.
"Garner victory with Love and Grace, Dearheart."
As though heeding my plea, the White King calms, casts off his Red cloak, rearms with new Blades—of Love and Grace. Valiant white, in cape and crown, my Belovéd stands tall. Streaming tears flicker past my Ring's fire.
"Show him mercy, Dearheart. Relieve him of his tensions, and peer into his understanding. Listen with thy heart, for it is well and good. Banish his Malice into the pit."
As I chant this, my bustle and ruffles brighten. Ghostly ribbons embrace the space beyond. My fishtail hems become the universe. The ribbons bind each star together in cohesion and perfection. My Queenly dress is bespangled by a bloodstone universe—from its galaxies to its planets and moons. The Ring expands, its flames dispel. Crimson lace splays from my head, carving into the cosmos and anchoring me in my throne.
The Ring is so small. This fight was fated. The victor has been decided long since.
"Let the mouth of the just meditate wisdom, and his tongue shall speak judgment."
Lost and forlorn, the Poisoned Armorer relinquishes all his strength.
The Black King is defeated—The White King is victorious!
Betelgeuse and Rigel, Alpha and Beta Centauri, uphold my throne. Amidst thine Eternal Triangle, my judgment has been cast: "Blesséd is the man who endureth temptation, for once he hath been proven he shall receive the Crown of Life."
Black Pawns sacrificed without a blink. Black Rooks fought to the bitterest end. Black Knights, skinned and skewered. The Black Bishop remaining was needlessly thrown away. The Black Queen succumbed to vengeance on her King's behalf.
Cosmic choirs sing out.
The Colorless Bishop is no more. And the Black King's damage is paramount. Shall he be granted life? Shall he be cast into oblivion alongside his Malice?
My King's tears give birth to new stars. Spectral tethers catch them. The Ring gravitates heavenward. Comets and nebulae greet it in passing. My pendant glitters. Awesome power radiates from it, and throughout my raiment and beyond.
Bloodstone cosmos? What is thine desire? Fate, chance, or choice?
The White King awaits in my glory. "O divine fire, Most Radiant Queen, have mercy…" At a knightly kneel, his eyes are downcast.
The Ring is being crushed…Its flame barely cling to life…It grows smaller and smaller….
Its brilliance is only halved. For the Ring is the Crown of Life.
Too dazzling to lay eyes upon, the White King anticipates his Queen's judgment. My hands bear the tiny coronet. Nearly motherly, I send the Crown downward once more.
"Atrocious White: The Black King's damage is of your doing. As Red as the Raging Cutter, you lost all sense and morality." My voice is stern, rueful, heartbroken. "But your reason remained intact. You have saved me, Dearheart. Take this. You have proven your truth."
Let the Crown burn, and it shall enlighten you. Wear it with pride and honor. Let the stars and planets commune and laud your victory. May my Love and Grace brand into your memory. Catch me—with knightly strength in your embrace. Watch my ribbons unravel, listen to the suns, moons, and stars say, "take care." Let not my raiment Blind you, my Belovéd, let it bind you in new Life. Your thalassic coat washes my bosom, allow it to warm and forgive thee. Touch my pendant.
Bloodstone reverts back. Its bands course into my crimson lace once again. "Let me see thee, Dearheart, thine eyes."
Your eyes are clear. Valiant chrysoprase, devoid of anger, pleading and wonting to assist. He's still driven to save me? But, I have been saved!
The Black King lies in agony. Familiar inkblots dot his ice-blue irises. His own Poison should have killed him. But his words are noiseless, soundless, I am deaf of him. Inky with exhaustion, he reaches out. My arms hold fast to my King. "No," I command. "You have been defeated. Be gone—to the pit!"
But my King silences me. Befuddled, I gawk into chrysoprase ponds. Unfinished business…? Do not interfere? Stay here? Stay out of my way? Let me keep you safe? This isn't over?! I'm going to end this?! Once and for all?!
"Yes, my Queen. His Malice is slain, but his Grief still remains. I shall take up Love and Grace once more"—and he does—"and save my brother."
White lace rushes against white velvet. "Dearheart…" I plead. His heart thunders under my palm. My tears' cascade cannot be subdued. Dishonor not mine Crown, my King, mine gift to the victor. If you do…I will never forgive you.
Blades prone, his back faces me. The Crown of Life still blazes.
"Let me protect you.
O sacred,
O serene,
O benevolent,
O lovely lily of purity."
"COSMIC JUDGMENT Caesura" Set…
JunAegileus777: No warning this time. Just thought to slide this final "chess piece" caesura in here, featuring Shadow as the (Cosmic Bloodstone) White Queen. It rounds off the present situation between him, Sonic, Scourge, and Silver somewhat. I think I let Silver's importance die out as the deeper plotline flourished. Whoops. Well, with no one telling me these things it was kind of hard to spot... Oh well. Book I's almost done, anyway. Just a couple or three chpts left, I estimate. I'm so excited! Hang on tight, readers—this road just might cave in...!
Quick Ref: Portions of translated lyrics from "Lilium" (Original Vers.) by Kumiko Noma, Elfen Lied, are included in this caesura. The song, I felt, fit the chpt's mood.
