~Authors Note~

Quick little note beforehand! This chapter took me much longer to do, because I wanted to get a lot of Valentyne's feelings in this one. I feel like I avoid his direct thoughts too much, because I'm afraid to give off his secret too soon. So this little chapter is mainly in favor of his emotions!

Also, this chapter is largely inspired by the song Between the Bars. Originally sang by Elliot Smith, I personally prefer Chris Garneau's version. If you want a better feel for this chapter, it is best to start listening to it mid-way through! Well, I shall leave you too it then~!

Drink up, baby, stay up all night
The things you could do, you won't but you might
The potential you'll be, that you'll never see
The promises you'll only make

Valentyne was gone before Brynjolf woke up, this time leaving a small note on his pillow telling where he would be and when. He couldn't help but smile at the dainty cursive words and the almost precise times that were given. He would be with his stallion until eight, in which he would then head over to the Bee and Barb to speak to Maven. Depending on how long he was there he would either walk around the market or head straight back the Cistern. His estimated arrival back was between the hours of nine and ten. Signed, with sincerest regards, Valentyne.

He shook his head, chuckling softly. Valentyne sure was something else, something indeed. As he folded the note, he took notice to the deep scribbles on the back of it. He could only make out the P.S. in the sentence; everything else was disfigured beyond recognition. Whatever post script he had written must not have been too important after all. Stashing it away into his pocket, Brynjolf listened to the sounds from above. Judging by the soft racket, it must have been about 8:30 in the morning. People were just starting to awaken and go on with their daily lives. Brynjolf imagined that Maven wouldn't keep him for too long, unless Valentyne proved to be a worthy conversational opponent. Thinking it over, he came to the conclusion that the boy wouldn't be back for another hour at least, and set off with his own morning routine, starting with a warm breakfast.

Valentyne had barely let out a single breath the entire conversation. When he was finally dismissed, he walked out into the fresh air and exhaled deeply, allowing the tremors he had been holding back to rattle down his body. His fear of Maven had been great, but his fear of showing it was even greater. Nothing terrified him more than a woman with the power to end him with a single word. It had been a problem with Durga at first as well, but the Khajiit's friendly disposition towards him had eventually killed his terror off. But Maven… He shivered at the thought of her cold eyes taking in ever little inch of him.

"So they send me a runt…" She had muttered under her breath, squeezing the bridge of her nose in annoyance. Valentyne had only smiled sheepishly. What could he have done? Unlike with Mercer, there was no way he was going to even try and stand up for himself around Maven. He had a feeling that her quick tongue and sharp wit could send his confidence into the ground before he could even muster a word. Valentyne may have been a master at the art of speech, but it often fell short when a glare like hers was applied to his already failing composure.

He was still tired and sore from his trip to Goldenglow. Valentyne was not the best at restoration, and had just barely managed to seal the large gash without any internal damage. It took the best of him to even be able to smile when he arrived, and even more to joke and laugh with the Guild. Each time his stomach jostled with a simple giggle he had to bite back a wince. Needless to say, Valentyne wasn't in the best shape, but he wouldn't let anyone else know that.

Estimating the time by looking up at the sun, he suddenly felt the urge to walk around. He didn't mind staying with the thieves too much, but being cooped up in a grotesque smelling sewer did nothing for him. The air was as warm as it could be at this time of the year in Skyrim, and by Talos, Valentyne was going to make the most of it before he was sent off to Whiterun.

To say he was pleased about traveling wasn't the right word, but he wasn't distraught over it either. He liked Whiterun very much, he even had friends there. But the thought of having to travel all that way by himself was really bothering him. Traveling great distances always left him feeling rather skittish. The thought of something horrible waiting for him could not be dismissed while he would lead his horse on. Sometimes it would get so bad he would have to stop and wait in a hidden area until he was comfortable to move again. His silly fear was the only reason he had ever started traveling with Durga in the first place. He had hoped that by traveling with a powerful figure like her it would have made it easier to control his worries, and it had to a point. Sometimes, though, he would still catch himself scanning the surrounding area for any unwanted guests.

Valentyne walked into the market place, idly toying with his string that was sloppily tied around his neck. He knew he wouldn't buy anything, but he didn't want to wander outside the walls to get the fresh air he was craving. Besides, he found that some of the people in the market place weren't half bad. Sometimes he enjoyed to listen to Mjoll's stories, or to even share a brief conversation with Maramal whenever he caught him traveling to the Bee and Barb. It kept him more in tune with the outside world whenever he followed Brynjolf around when he was tending to his stall; helped him feel more like he used to when he was nothing more than a young bard seeing the world with a friend close at hand. Most of the people in the market just thought he owed something to Brynjolf, and was simply tailing him and helping out to pay off a debt. He played along with the lie; it made collecting his debts that much easier, but troubled him ten times more.

People pitied him for being caught up with the Thieves Guild against his free will. Only a frail little boy who couldn't fend for himself, why must he be branded in with a group of abhorrent thieves? And who was he to crush their delicate image of him? His morals told him to, yet his pride stifled them to the ground like a scolding father with fear loosely in tow. Letting them know that this was all being done on his own accord may cause hostility that his lack of courage couldn't handle, or even cause them to look down upon him more than they already did and make his dignity flare. As much as it killed his guilt, Valentyne just kept silent as he heard the soft whispers.

Poor kid.

He doesn't deserve this.

What a waste of a good heart.

Heard Brynjolf threatens him just to get him out here.

Such a horrible thing to do to one so gentle.

He would just scrunch his nose discretely, and continue on as cheerfully as possible to hush their gossip. If he would have to handle a guilty conscious, he certainly would not also have to handle a hurt ego.

He gave a cheery good morning as he walked by Mjoll and Aerin, and a sympathetic smile to Snilf. He still had to remember to bring him some food, and tried to make an even better mental note to do so. A stiff nod was given to Grelka, who returned it with a slight sneer. He still had yet to gain an ounce of respect from the woman, but he was determined enough to try every day. Everyone else in the area was greeted with the same respect as the last. Except for one, thankfully absent, Argonian man.

Ever since his first excursion with the Guild he had been avoiding Madesi like the plague. Knowing that he had stolen his ring to frame someone else made it almost impossible to face him. The few times Valentyne was forced into a conversation with him, he just barely managed to keep eye contact. If not for his need to show respect, he would shun him all together. During the brief moments Valentyne fell into his thoughts, he didn't see the other mass coming towards him swiftly until he tumbled to the ground.

He fell onto his back with a hard thud, and he winced as a rock dug into his tender side. The gentle apologies and the looming figure above him alerted the worst; he had bumped into the one person- or beast- he hadn't wanted to see. Madesi held out a scaled hand, still speaking to Valentyne, but he could not hear. He was cursing his luck in all aspects, gnawing at the inside of his lip angrily. He truly was fortunes fool.

"Land-strider?" Valentyne snapped his gaze up; looking into Madesi's questioning eyes. His hand was still held out, but the hesitancy was clear as it pulled back slightly. Shaking his head, Valentyne took it as gratefully as he could. Just because he had done him wrong and was now grieving in his guilt didn't mean he had to act rude.

"It is quite alright," Valentyne said, brushing off his clothes when he was steady. "The fault is my own. I was lost in my musings and forgot where I was. So it is to you I apologize." He smiled, but it was more hard than normal due to being forced. Just a few shared words and then he could somehow manage to scurry off without seeming like a complete degenerate. Madesi returned his smile, but it was much more sincere than Valentyne's had been. "Where are you headed in such a frenzy, if you do not mind my asking?"

"I slept in much later then intended," He answered with a chuckle. "Up late thinking, I'm afraid. I didn't want to miss out on any business, although it seems like that isn't too much of a problem." The sudden grim look on his face caused a ting of pain in Valentyne's chest.

"Business has been a bit of a trouble?" Valentyne questioned innocently as he followed Madesi to his stall. He knew the answer to it; he saw how it went for the Argonian every day. No one had the money to buy jewelry around Riften, and the few travelers that wandered in hardly paid him any mind. He flinched a bit as he remembered the ring, and how stealing something so simple could have caused him much more trouble if they hadn't found it on Brand-Shei.

"That it has." Silence followed, and Valentyne found himself at a loss of what else to say for once in his life. His mind was too fogged to properly function, so he just watched as Madesi set up his stall, sitting on the rock wall and kicking his feet back and forth. Madesi gathered his variety of necklaces up, setting a few different ones out in the display case this time.

"Do you make all of your jewelry by hand?" Valentyne asked curiously, leaning forward to get a better look at a silver necklace embedded with emeralds that had caught his eye. Madesi smiled at the question, finishing up his set up while looking over his shoulder at him.

"I do," He said, but then frowned after another thought hit him. "Sadly, I'm one of the few traditional Saxhleel Jewelers that remains in Tamriel; it's becoming a lost art." Valentyne couldn't help but flinch again when the Argonian looked away. Gnawing at his lip, he looked down at his feet before gaining the courage to look up at him again.

"Are such thoughts what plagued your mind my friend?" Madesi stared off a bit, until he finally nodded.

"Yes, somewhat. But even gathering materials has become hazardous. Bandits and now even dragons cover the way to mines and other cities." He sighed, leaning back against the wall next to Valentyne, staring up at the sky. "Even a few flawless gems at this point would serve me wonders." Valentyne watched him closely, waiting to see any sign of sadness or anger on his face. It was only a distant and dazed expression, with no real meaning behind it. The silence was unbearable, and finally the Argonian sighed again. "There I am rambling about nothing again. I'm sure you have better things to do, so I will leave you to it. Safe travels, land-strider." Madesi nodded at him, smiling, and then went to busying himself to something under his stall.

Valentyne sat there a minute, watching him. He could vaguely remember himself in the same predicament, crouched down and shuffling through the few belongings the Argonian owned. The memory though had been significantly blocked for his wellbeing by a stiff barrier, and left him with a small remembrance of that day. He shifted a bit, his hand going down to the small coin purse tied to his belt. It was one he carried when he was out and about; his larger one staying in (what he hoped) was the safe area of the Cistern. He had been saving his money since the first day of his travels, and told many it was just his cheap nature that he refused to spend a single coin. Durga often had chastised him about it, having to constantly use her coin to pay for rooms at inns. Reaching a careful hand into the pouch, he searched around until his finger came in contact with the smooth surface of a gem.

The one time Durga had actually managed to drag him into a Nordic ruin he had found a few flawless sapphires and diamonds in a chest he had searched. He had given most of them to Durga, but she had allowed him to keep two of the sapphires for himself. Of course, he had no use for them, but figured he would sell them as soon as he found someone to take them for a good price. Yet… Madesi probably needed them more than he did. Maybe it would even soothe his guilt.

"Here," Valentyne said, hopping off the wall. When Madesi turned around, Valentyne was holding out both sapphires in his palm. The Argonian's eyes were wide as he stared at them, and then up at the smiling boy before him. "Go on, you may take them. I harbor no purpose for them." Hesitantly, Madesi took them, watching his face carefully entire time. Valentyne's smile didn't falter in the least, the sincerity glittering in his eyes.

"Thank you," Madesi muttered, still covered by surprise. How could this boy, stuck in a debt with the Guild, give him something so expensive? Were the rumors shifting about Riften false? Impossible, he thought. The Guild wouldn't want someone so frail in the first place. "I appreciate it, beyond words." Valentyne stood a little straighter as Madesi turned away, feeling pride well up for preforming a virtuous deed once more.

"I will actually be out traveling by next dawn. Is there any other material you require?" Valentyne grinned at Madesi's baffled expression, suppressing a laugh.

"Well, yes, but you don't have to get them for me."

"It is not a hindrance to me in the least," Valentyne said to his distraught expression. "It would be quite a pleasure to help you." Madesi stared at him for a moment more, and then he finally returned his smile. He scratched down a few other things he needed on a piece of parchment, chattering away to the young boy just listening carefully. By the time Valentyne said his goodbyes, he could already feel his pride slowly being spoiled. He was an imbecile for thinking that one good deed would make up for his thievery. As he walked away, he briefly wondered how Madesi would feel if he knew that it was actually Valentyne himself who stole his ring. The gentle Argonian probably wouldn't have cared all that much, Valentyne realized; would just pity him more for being roped into doing something so horrible. Valentyne furrowed his brows at the thought.

He slowly walked by the Bee and Barb. There would be few people inside, he knew, but he didn't want to go back to the Cistern in a bitter mood. Valentyne knew that Brynjolf would pester him about it until he confessed what was on his mind. Besides, it would be good for him to perform for a different crowd before he left.

The door creaked a bit as he opened it, drawing the attention of Keerava, who was behind her counter. He smiled at her, and she returned it half-heartedly, busy with a stack of papers in front of her. Valentyne made sure to visit her occasionally to make up for collecting her debt so abruptly. He would entertain the early morning drinkers to allow her to do the things she had to do. It was a lot like babysitting, but Valentyne didn't mind.

As he suspected, there weren't many people in the small room. A few travelers were scattered about at different tables, eating a meal of some sort of stew. He could hear some commotion from above, briefly wondering if Maven was still around. Sapphire was leaned against the wall by the stairs as she always was, and she sneered at him as he entered. Valentyne did his best to ignore her, but he couldn't help to walk a bit quicker when he passed her. One day he would stand up to her… right when she stopped looking at him like a bug that needed to be crushed.

Valentyne walked up to Keerava with a small smile, trying to diminish his earlier acidity. "Greetings to you, Keerava. I hope life is treating you well today." Valentyne put his hands on the counter, off to the side of her so he wouldn't touch the papers when he leaned onto the wood. Keerava wrote a quick note on one of them and then smiled up at Valentyne as she put them away.

"Hello, V. Yes, everything is fine," She said smoothly, but Valentyne could make out the doubt in her expression before she could hide it. Everything was not fine. "Back again? I saw you scurry out the door from upstairs a bit earlier." Valentyne's smile slightly faltered at the mention of his little escapade earlier that morning, but brightened it when Keerava gave him a questing look.

"Oh, yes, I was just… visiting someone is all," He said as she grabbed a tankard and went to get him his usual cider. "I was actually hoping to entertain a bit. Of course, only if you shall permit me to do so." Keerava laughed, handing him the cider while she did.

"Of course I don't mind. Your stories have a way of even brightening my day." To this, Valentyne beamed. As a bard, he found that his one true purpose in life was entertaining others and bringing smiles to their faces. No matter how much coin he received, in the end he was simply pleased to gain laughter for his work. It was all he needed to feel right with himself. That right feeling was possibly the only thing that calmed him at the end of every night when he would tell his tales to the Guild.

He walked to the very center of the room, his shoulders back and his head high. Only a few people took notice to him as he untied his flute from his belt, soft muttering quickly filling the room. It hardly fazed him. Sweeping a gentle touch over the smooth wood, he closed his eyes and put the mouth piece to his lips. He breathed deeply; in and out. Music was his therapeutic relaxation that he shared with whoever he could bestow it upon.

So when he started playing his flute, he let all of his silly worries flow out in his music in such a way that it even caught the attention of Sapphire. Each note was produced in such a beautiful degree that it was like a blast of emotional flames, scorching the minds of whoever listened. There was an equal amount of sorrow and bliss that mingled together, creating a dangerous duet. Or a competition that neither could ever win, forever struggling in their warfare. Those flames combusted into such a mass of heat and fervor that shivers rattled the spines of many of the people in the room. By the time Valentyne finished, everyone was stuck in a stunned silence, but it didn't bother him. He was too busy relishing in the tranquility surrounding him, feeling completely at ease. It wasn't until a soft applause was heard from the corner of the room that he snapped out of his peace, looking over at Sapphire with an expression of disbelief. He watched her carefully, hardly listening to the others applauding around him. They shared a long and intense gaze with one another, until Valentyne finally smiled at her.

He sat down after that, telling a few short tales here and there. The travelers in the room were pleased to listen to him, relating to some. He told them cheerfully, all past woes long forgotten in the lingering effects of his song. It wasn't until he realized the time that the stopped abruptly. He was far past the time he had initially promised to return. Muttering some apologies to the ones still listening to him, he trotted off to look for Keerava and to thank her. Valentyne had noticed she had walked down stairs with Talen-Jei not too long ago, discussing something. He didn't want to interrupt, but he didn't want to run off without expressing his gratitude either.

From the top of the steps, he could hear soft muttering. He was about to call down before a loud bang through his ears, and he flinched back. More muttering followed. Valentyne stood there until he could no longer handle his curiosity. Remembering what Delvin had taught him, he crept down silently, sticking close to the shadows on the wall.

"…do something!" The gruff undertone in the voice spoke masculinity. Talen-Jei. "We can't keep giving our money to them, Keerava!" Valentyne in took a deep breath, gripping at his chest tightly. He had to force himself to keep listening.

"Well what am I to do?" Keerava asked. She was tired; weary. "They just keep coming."

"Say no to that little boy," Talen-Jei snapped. "And then to whomever else follows! It can't be that difficult. If we don't we'll never be able to marry, and we'll lose our home as well." Valentyne felt blood in his mouth as his teeth pierced the sensitive flesh on his lips. How had this happened? Why hadn't Keerava told him? Maybe he could have worked out something with Brynjolf or-

"But he's just doing what he is told, Talen-Jei. He is in just as bad as us." What he is told… what he is told. Of course, that was what it always was; just a big pity part for the little boy who called dragon. Valentyne couldn't listen to anymore after that, and he found his legs moving on their own and stalking out the door.

How much longer would he have to play this game? So many lies were building up around him into a fragile wall of glass. Even the slightest wind could make them crash around his feet. He lost track now of when it first happened, this play of lies. Maybe he had always been this way, deep down inside.

The first few lies hadn't hurt much; he had actually been ok with them. It wasn't until he came to this damn place that everything went wrong. The structure of his kingdom went askew, making it ever more decrepit. Valentyne felt the anger prick through his body as he walked over to the graveyard. He couldn't even blame Durga for this mess. The innocent Khajiit had only been doing what she had to do to find Esbern. How could she have known that that bastard would have such an effect on him?

Valentyne resisted the urge to kick the switch that opened the grave, pushing it roughly. What was Brynjolf's problem anyway? Why had it been so absolutely necessary for him to stay and help the Guild? Brynjolf could have chosen anyone else after that ridiculous set up. Anyone else. Valentyne never should have gone down to the Flagon. It was all Brynjolf's fault for being… well himself!

By the time Valentyne was in the Cistern, he was fuming. Rune was the first to notice him enter, and thought it best to act like he hadn't as the boy walked by. When Valentyne was out of ear shot, he questioned his behavior to Vipir, who just shrugged. Cynric backed away from the archery area a few minutes after Valentyne skulked over. After the first angry arrow was shot, he didn't want to hear any of his hateful mumblings.

The word of Valentyne's wrathful entrance leaked its way into the Flagon, and soon enough Brynjolf was walking into the Cistern, passing many of the Guild members who wanted to avoid the boy. He didn't know much, except that his protégé was out for blood. Sure enough, he heard an exasperated sigh not a moment after he entered. Brynjolf walked carefully over to him, making sure not to step on any of the arrows on the ground that had clearly missed their target. Valentyne was crouched over on the ground, face buried into his hands. His bow was thrown off to the side somewhere, and more arrows were scattered about his feet. The ones that had actually managed to hit their target were far from the center.

"Something wrong lad?" Valentyne flinched. Brynjolf watched as he looked up at him through his fingers, barely lifting his head. He was angry in all aspects of the word, and whoever had annoyed him had done a very good job. Valentyne never had such a look to him. It made Brynjolf wonder… until he harrumphed and covered his eyes again. Had he done something? "Lad?"

He suddenly threw his hands down, slamming his fists into the stone. His lip was torn up from his teeth, a few spots of dried blood on the tears. The scrunched up look to his face accented his snarl, and Brynjolf backed up a bit. "I am so bloody sick of this shit!" Wait… did Valentyne just curse?

"Excuse me?" It was all Brynjolf could manage to ask as the idea of it washed over him. No, it was impossible. Valentyne was too literate and good for any sort of vulgar language. Even in the little verbal debate he had had with a costumer once he had kept his calm, only using vocabulary above the other man's head to fight with.

"You heard me," Valentyne hissed through clenched teeth. "Or are you deaf as well as incompetent? That is just wonderful, I think. Because you know it is always just a damn festivity when you are a bloody idiot. Kind of relaxing, you see. You know why, do you not? Because you do not know what in oblivion you are doing, that is why! It makes everything easy for you, but everyone else sees you as a damn fool. But you could really be a genius playing it for the crowd. Putting on that mask just for show, making it easier for your own living. No one knows either, and you live in the lie as if you need nothing else. Playing the fool… what am I even doing?" He sighed heavily, burying his face into his hands as his anger suddenly dispersed, leaving a brewing sadness.

Brynjolf watched him carefully, confused beyond reasoning. "Are you… okay lad?" Valentyne's shoulders began to shake, and he briefly wondered if he was crying before he heard the soft laughter. His loose curls bounced around his face as he looked up at him, a crooked smile on his face.

"I have not the slightest idea anymore," He said softly with distant eyes. They were not even looking at Brynjolf, but past him off into some strange and inane place that only he could see. And he was lost there, in that place of oddities. Lost without a purpose; forever wandering with no true goal. Valentyne stared for a bit longer, until the sorrow of it all crushed him, and he looked back down at the ground.

Brynjolf didn't know what to do. He had never been very good at… cheering someone like Valentyne up. A few drinks were fine for everybody else, but they made Valentyne sick. A few senseless jokes at an ex –lover were also a great tool to use, but Valentyne wasn't in need of that kind of cheering up. A pat on the back, a playful punch to the shoulder… They wouldn't help anyone as crushed as the young boy before him. The worst part about it: it was probably something to do with the Guild.

So he did the only thing he could do; he changed the subject.

"What did Maven say?" The question came out more awkward then he had intended, but Valentyne didn't seem to notice. He just sat there, staring at the floor for a few moments, until finally his lips started to move in a soft mumble. Brynjolf could only catch the word 'travel' and 'Whiterun' from the barely audible sound. "You have to go to Whiterun, huh? Is that why you are all upset?" Brynjolf smiled, hoping to get one in return. Valentyne just stared at the floor, and after a minute nodded. What was another lie upon his walls? "It is quite the ways to travel by yourself… Let me talk to Mercer, I'll see if you can have a traveling companion."

Valentyne looked up too late; Brynjolf was already walking towards the Guild Master's room. He just watched him go, not bothering to call after him. There was no point, for he would do it anyway. Valentyne didn't have the energy to even call out, he felt completely drained from his mental breakdown. The depression swirling through his mind had rendered him useless.

His face was hot. It was uncomfortable as he dragged himself over to his bed to grab his bucket of water. He sat on the edge of one of the bridges in the center of the Cistern, his legs crossed. Valentyne's movements were slow as he grabbed the cloth out from his bucket. When it touched his face, he flinched as if it burned, but kept it there until he could move his hand. He didn't stop until his face and neck were soaking wet. He rang the cloth out above the water of the Cistern, watching as it splashed into the dark depths. The water twisted and churned, the ripples disfiguring his reflection.

Valentyne's eyes widened as it steadied, and he stared into the eyes that had formed. They were his eyes, but they weren't at the same time. The sky blue was brighter, full of jubilance and a spark of courage that was unnumbered. The lips were upturned, the sweetest of smiles laced onto them. The expression beat at his heart, because it wasn't him. Proud, brave, and completely at rest. How could he ever be that? He raised his hand and swatted at the thing in the water, causing a splash to spew out in all directions. He didn't want to see it anymore.

"Lad?" Valentyne hadn't notice Brynjolf standing off to the side by one of the beds, and jumped at the sound of his voice. He looked up at him with wide eyes that dulled when they realized there was no threat. He shook his head, looking back at the water to find the reflection normal. It still brought him no peace. "I talked to Mercer." The uncertainty in Brynjolf's voice made Valentyne want to slap himself. What was he doing? He was acting like an idiot, throwing stupid little temper tantrums and having mood swings like a woman going through her cycle. Throwing away his pity, he smiled up at Brynjolf the best he could.

"Oh? And what has our lovely Guild Master decided?" The teasing quality of the question surprised Brynjolf, and he found himself wondering if Valentyne should really be going on this little trip. Maybe he had caught some delusion inducing fever. The amount of water that was still clinging to him made it plausible.

"Well…" Brynjolf coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "No one else can go, apparently. So I'm to go with you."

Valentyne could feel his face falling, and had to dig his nails into his palm to keep his smile on his face. "Really? How wonderful," Was all he could say before the pep could leave his voice. Brynjolf cocked an eyebrow, only to be brushed off by Valentyne. He stood up, grabbing his bucket and walking down the bridge to his bed. "We shall have to rise early to get an acceptable start. I hope that is not a problem, my late rising friend." He shot Brynjolf a teasing grin as he put his bucket away. Brynjolf couldn't help but grin back at him.

"You'll be surprised lad. I can wake up early if I have the need to." Valentyne rolled his eyes, turning to face Brynjolf with his arms folded in front of his chest.

"Let us see how you feel about that statement tomorrow." The mask was left glued upon his face. He was the fool dancing within the crowd; within his kingdom of glass. The wind was picking up over the horizon, and he could only wait for it all to fall down.

The people you've been before that you don't want around anymore
That push and shove and won't bend to your will
I'll keep them still

~Authors Note~

Well, I hope that wasn't too much of an emotional roller-coaster for you all! It seems when I normally favor his thoughts, I usually end up making it rather sad and conflicting. Valentyne is more of a thinker, if anything, and usually leads him to inner arguments. I hope that Chapter Nine will not be so difficult to write, and will be a lot less… dramatic. I hope you al enjoyed~! I shall see you next time~!

Yours Eternally, Erin