bro i am so drunk on water idk what i am writing but yeah. i had fun writing it so who cares.
TW - SUICIDE ATTEMPT
"We know nothing about each other, y'know."
Azrael and I are laying together under the stars. Poetic. I know. He insisted that I needed to get out of my room and get some fresh air.
So we packed a light dinner and started strolling all around the new 'headquarters'. It has at least a few hundred rooms including the weapon storage and the med wing.
The rest of the building is boring. When you've lived in a castle all your life, this silly little place is ought to seem a bit pale.
I say silly because this place is more like a huge wall rather than an actual building. For secrecy purposes, it's only one storey but it covers a huge ground. That's because you need a lot of place for the artillery and cavalry and...me.
My mom said something about my room here.
"This room? It was originally made for missiles. Nuclear weapons. I just altered it to hold something even more powerful. You."
When you're own mother compares you to a nuclear weapon with a crazed look in her eyes, you really question your decisions in life.
"Oh yeah? What do you want to know?" I ask Azrael.
"Everything."
"OK. There's not much to tell. I used to have a sister. We didn't really get along but I loved her. And then my father killed her. Then I had a massive change of character after going to this lethal mission my father sent me and then...well, wars and raves and one-night stands and executions and then finally the rebellion."
He blinks at me before getting up, his palms placed on the mat behind him and his legs spread out. Looking over his shoulder with a smirk he says, "I meant more like hobbies."
Hobbies.
"I don't know. Never really had time. I like dressing up, if that counts."
His expression saddens. He pities me. Great.
"What about you?" I get up too and sit folding my legs beneath me.
"I play guitar. And piano. Write."
"You can sing?" I ask, my eyes widening.
He nods.
I get overly excited and grab his arm and exclaim, "I write too!"
Good job, Esmeray. Now he probably thinks I am a nut job.
But he just grins.
"Can you write me a poem sometime?"
I nod. I haven't since my sister's disappearance. I am not sure if I still got it.
"That...that can't be your life. You deserve so much more," He says, brushing a stray strand of hair away from my forehead.
My life was probably more. But I read somewhere that sometimes your brain 'deletes' some traumatic memories of the past to protect your present. Probably the reason I don't remember half my life.
YOU ARE READING
The Queen Of Eternity
FantasyUNDER HEAVY EDITING Love. That's a strong word. It breaks you into a million pieces yet somehow manages to put you back together. Power. Self explanatory, isn't it? Who doesn't want power? But power makes you do things that seem psychopathic until y...
