[Uhh?]
Who was that? He was damn sure that he saw something, but he simply couldn't trace the form. He couldn't register the person of the silhouette. Many thoughts dangled in his mental Ken. A part of him lent him that twas the lad. How could it be him? How possible could it had been for such lad to had escaped such security and fight his way into the castle? He wanted to go in that direction, but a part of him just wouldn't him. He was bent on knowing who it was, but of course he got to be sane about it. He moved further. It was more of a totter. He couldn't even be sure what he was doing. Whether he was moving or crawling. All he knew he was doing was that he was tasking his limbs. And those were all that mattered at that moment to him. Then at a point, he knuckled under trailing the silhouette which had chopped his interest. And he was bent on knowing who it was. Probably when he was done trailing it, then he would go to meet the Monarch in the throne hall.
"He's my son." He wasn't sure who that was meant for. He looked around him, there was none there but him. The monarch hadn't even used the first person pronoun but the third. A part of him told him who he was referring to. But he couldn't process so many thoughts at a time. It ain't because the thoughts were remote or farfetched. Twas simply because, most of the thoughts seemed to him as illogical. He didn't know how to make meaning of them. He actually was trying pretty hard to make meaning of them twas to no avail. He tried to concentrate and process the sentence. At that bid, tons of questions swelled up in his mental horizon. Their heights mocked the sway of the waves. A part of him told him that he stood no chance of making meaning of or surviving the torrents such stances would lend. The first questions which snapped at his consciousness was: if truly he is your son, why then would he have to han
. "Treason!!!!" He looked. He was alert. His eyes were steady like the flicker of a trained torchlight. He kept his gaze savoring the aroma of the tensed atmosphere. He wasn't afraid of the hell he had let loose. He simply was going to buy time as long as possible. He had no idea what the gladiators of the Monarch were up to in battle. He had no idea how strong they were and could be. He didn't want to stand. That would affect his chances of having a strong stance on what he had let loose. His chances were slim, but he would give it all twould take. He watched the gladiators tried to raise the master up. Firstly it seemed as though they were not interested in him. Like they wouldn't come after him for taking the life of their master. He knew that that was some lie from Utopia. Probably they were simply trying to process what was happening. Probably they were simply having time to make pain
"He should see now." He felt kinda a bargain, between the dark world and reality. A part of him wanted to remain in gloom, while the other part kept reaching for reality. He could feel his eyes having a bite of what time would or was supplanting. He was conscious not to be a stranger of it all. So many a thought began to fleshen in his mental Ken. To him, it seemed the end was near and nothing was going to be the same again. He had never thought that the end would have its finale thus. He had never thought curtain would be drawn over his life so quickly. He tried to stay positive as bargain continued between live and gloom. He fought hard. He knew that. He was trying to. He didn't want to be so dismissive of the whole matter. He melted his rage and made of it a statue of pulpy patience as yet he savored the taunting aroma of time. He had never thought that he would be so helpless ever in
"Rise your lordship." And his thoughts were smothered. There were quite the numbers of things he was trying very difficultly to make meaning of. He wasn't going to force them to being. They were of their own accord, and of course they should be. Several questions strangled those thoughts and he was tossed about like the limbs of the hay by the ferocious sway of the wanky winds. What he tried to make meaning of was the last question which was supplanted. Others were of no great consequence to him. He could reel around those if he got answer to the most taunting. The question which stood out tall in his heart was, why did the lad save me?Probably there were quite the numbers of things he was yet to know about the lad. A part of him thought them so necessary, while the other part thought them less highly. Yet the question drooped in the zenith of his crushed consciousness. If he w
"Which way to the arena?" He turned and looked at the lad as he stepped out of the castle. Out of the gate. He yet retained his composure and his eyes were what he used to know. The Cod yet had a last thought about the castle. Whether or not he would go there. Whether or not he would return there after leaving the arena. That thought actually or action should be determined or spelled out by quite the numbers of things. He knew that. That was what it is. If he did kill Ja Lia and toss his head to Medusa, of course he would make his choice. Whether or not return to the Castle. He hadn't thought of killing the Monarch when he'd left for his abode. But when nature demanded it, he was left with no choice. But at that moment, of course he could make his choice. He could choose whether or not he wanted to return and be their monarch. He could choose whether or not a part of him wanted to govern over the h
"Or uhmmm...." He tried as much as possible to distract himself. He wouldn't be owing his stray of actions to anyone but himself. He didn't give a damn about taking responsibility for all he had done. Didn't always matter to him. He simply only wanted to be distracted for the sake of the lad. To himself, he was doing the lad a favor. He didn't want to kill him and therefore must pretend he was not seeing him. He had no idea why he was even nursing that thought of killing him. He tended to take delight in pain and gores. He didn't care who was affected. All he cared about was what good it did poise at him. He was quite the quaking psychopath. He had tried so many a thoughts out but none at that moment to him was worth his while. He didn't want to keep reeling from and over what had been evenly walked. His eyes were beginning to widen. He was making rage of his life. He was enraged by nature. He hated to ad
. "What do you think is happening?" He wasn't sure whether or not that was the right question to ask. But he was sure of what not to think. He didn't want to nurse the thought that he had been played as a fool by the Nymph as well as the callous Ja Lia. He hated to nurse that thought. And he was afraid that that thought might turn out to be just the truth. He wouldn't be able to help himself get over the thought. He would never be able to help himself. He hoped twasn't what he was thinking. But what was it if twas that. Tcouldnt be anything other than that. He knew that. He didn't want to keep telling himself lanky lies. He needed to be frank with himself. That was not far-fetched. That was not too much to ask. How would being frank with oneself be too much to ask? He knew twas a cake walk but twas the effect on his eerie emotions that scared the crap outta him. If he began to nurse that he might hav
"Could we talk about something else?" He was getting bored out by the Conscience thing discussion. He wouldn't keep to that forever. Twas becoming annoying to him. He could use some new thoughts. The lad seemed very serious and was speaking as though he had been paid for it. He did admire some qualities in the lad but he would never admit it. He had never admitted such and wouldn't start doing that. He could use some better options. Even if the lad did have his strength with conversation, that didn't make him all bossy and didn't present him as an error free warthog. If he did give it time, he would be able to identify quite the numbers of odd stances about him. But that time was what that was outta his reach. He couldn't get to it. He had been trying. He matter-of-factly didn't have power over time as time had no say over him. At least, that was what he believed. His fate was foiled by rage and wa