Shrignold waited in the clouds for his cue. He glanced at his hands. They shook, though he didn't know why. He had nothing, no one to fear.
He was rather impressed at his ability to nearly perfectly replicate some of his subjects. He'd included the bunny and flowers that accompanied his vessel, just for the sheer irony, along with Moleman, and one of the Unicorn Courtiers. On top of that, he'd created someone brand new for the "Special One" portion. Heh, how pathetic. That portion of the song was a tad too deviant from the doctrine for his liking. That was another thing he'd be sure to correct in his performance.
Oh, there was the child now! Oh... oh dear. He looked rather... unappealing. Oh well, all the more reason to torment him.
"It makes you sad doesn't it? That there's so much hatred in the world. I hope you don't mind if I ask you a question!"
...
The words of the song rolled off his tongue. It felt oddly natural... relaxing, to play along and regale the doctrine in such a fun manner. The place he'd been given as a "classroom" was a pale replication of the kingdom but... it would certainly suffice. The pinkish cream clouds drew up a deceptively soothing feeling in the butterfly, and hopefully the child as well.
Shrignold was quite lucky to have figured out how to fly using this body, although it certainly would have made his life easier when he was trying to murder Micheal. His sleeves could transform into butterfly wings, letting him soar on ahead of the child through the clouds.
The creature really was a pathetic specimen. Certainly not of any interest to him, but he'd soon make it worth his while. His little plan would soon come to fruition, and he felt a fist close around his chest.
"Even me? But I am lonely..."
Hmmph. A waste of a creature. He'd be much better put to use. Time to divert the path.
"Yes it's true, but do not worry! You're confused but that's okay! Let me put it another way."
The boy swallowed nervously and looked with a bewildered expression at the tree Shrignold gestured to. It was clear that Roy had told him to answer everything according to a script as well. The deviation clearly bothered him, as he no longer had anything telling him what to do.
"This is the story of Micheal, the loneliest boy in town."
Shrignold grinned to himself.
"This is the story of Micheal, the ugliest boy in town. Ugly and weak, they called him a freak, so he lived on his own underground, he lived on his own underground, he lived on his own underground."
"See? Everyone has a special one!" Shrignold smiled at the boy.
The child raked his eyes over the butterfly and pressed his fist against his chest. It looked as if he wanted to step away, but couldn't because someone had threatened any alterations with death.
"Even Micheal!"
Shrignold continued with his modified script, his creations singing along in wonderous harmony. The boy no longer responded to anything they said. After all, he was probably too STUPID to say anything unless he was told. He just watched in anxiety as the song folded out around him.
"That's the way that all love goes. Like a flower it grows and grows! And it's forever. And forever!"
Shrignold lifted the boy's head up, clenching his jaw with his hand, and walked behind him. As he crossed from his left to right, a dark black goo much like his crept out of his hand and into the boy's eye. "And now we all worship our king."
The stone effigy could do no justice to the real Malcolm and yet, Shrignold still felt himself entranced by his king. His true being. The others chanted absentmindedly as Shrignold explained to this child what would happened. What he would soon be a part of. Making sure of course to follow the most recent rule set.
The boy found himself suddenly locked to a chair made of clouds in a terribly contradictory trap. He gasped and tried to pull away but to no avail. Shrignold turned around to get one more look at his crowd of followers, and what was sure to be another vessel for Malcolm.
As he reached the final words of his song, Shrignold spotted two oddities in the crowd. There was an object, one he hadn't created. It looked colorful, with papery hair.
And as soon as Shrignold laid eyes on Roy, it was over.
The boy vanished from his sight and Shrignold found himself alone in the cloudy imitation.
A voice whispered in his ear, the source from nowhere and everywhere.
"Did you think you could get away with stealing my son from me?"