12. Wake unto me
He dreams an eternal dream; of pain, of loneliness, of a void so vast and despairingly consuming that he gave in without resisting. She had always admired him for his sharp wit and tongue, pleasant in a sadistic way to listen to as he put an opponent in his place and crushing when on the receiving of. His eyes were always alight with the fire his tongue doused upon enemies and she had long delighted in watching the embers dancing in irises. Watching him had always been a favored past time for her.
There was no glow, now, not even smoke in those eyes, so hungry was the void, devouring all that had lived within the vessel. All that was left of those times was her looking over the frames of her glasses at the head upon the fist in thought or just lost. Those eyes were flat but not empty. She could see the void that ate at him, almost see the puffs of breath exhaled as they warmed to room temperature at escaping the absolute cold within him. The eyes only lit up for one thing anymore; Delphine. She wished she could say it was a likening back to the days of yore, of her youth and joyful times, but it was not. What was harbored there was something she had never seen any time before outside of the Maestro's involvement. This rage was reserved only for the Queen. And at every occasion it burned, she found herself continually torn between being thankful such strong emotion was still capable and fear.
There were only three things he looked at, and even then, it wasn't really even that. Even so, the sky and that faded picture were granted the same gaze; blank with something not quite yet that void but just as disturbing. Much later she would come to recognize it as the sight of dying, the exact point in time where the shattered soul separated from body. The third was the space he vigilantly scrutinized. Then again, it was all he ever saw, cloud or lover before him.
The void was a never-ending phenomenon and she prayed with every breath she would be what he saw when he awoke from the terror.