A/N: Sorry I take so long between updates! This is really short, so... sorry about that, too. (wince) Anyway, enjoy! Oh, in the Blue-Eyes P.O.V.
Movement 7: A Jealous Symphony
He is... OURS.
–master, master, master... years and years and years we rest, he knows us, calls us, controls us, never never separate... ours, ours, ours... OURS, OURS, OURS–
Before she came... he belonged to us. We were the beloved, the cherished– our master had time for us, loved us. We obeyed him blindly, connected beyond the foolish mortal concept of time. Who was with him before his soul returned to the earth? Who held him up, protecting him from the billowy winds and crashing waves of the realm of the dead? We did. We are his...
He is ours.
–use us, use us, use us... master master master, he is ours, he is ours, he is ours... always a part of him, we were. From the beginning we WERE. But now she IS. And the unworthy one takes him... she takes him, she takes him, she takes him... And he is OURS, OURS, OURS–
She does not know him. She does not breathe with him, fight with him– she is not one with him as we are. We are the life. He needs us, as we need him.
But since her untimely arrival, we are not as precious as we once were.
He does not take us out to duel anymore; he does not lovingly hold the cards we are housed in. He forgets us. Our bond– master and servant– has been forgotten.
We hate her.
She takes him from us. And he is not hers.
He is OURS.