Over the next few days there will be posts made as legacy ideas that if need be answer impossible questions for generations, my need to write replaced by commands and letters for vitals renewed and new stories interrupted by newer, my infatuation makes vacation urgent save itinerant plans, this being the M3 public of a trilogy that makes NO sense anymore that it was essentially 'recast', here's M from yesterday, reminding me the sorting from the 2020 that never ends picrel.
? Merlin 3x66 Jejune Eyes
A beckoning thrall of wandering eyes, the writing on the walls of centuries antiquated chiseling permanentized long lost forgotten by the mists and winters screaming into the darkness of the caverns wintry waters and countless counting dirty hands feeling the warnings to a future perhaps undone without warning in the pale candle expeditions and violent torch inquisitions to more quickly paint red these tunnel walls now uneven and aged as natural stone in such two worlds as Sino.
His eyes jump and scatter to read the page as if counting the snowflakes of March, his hand waving struggling to control his dagger, his fingers unspoken with pulled sinews like poisoned refuse in his blood to curl and fighting to unfurl counting the candles in the room. With septic flesh a binding fist opens struggling to reveal hold of peace and taking his dagger cuts the bindings of his writhly grasp, the blood falls as his fingers dance, the blood drips onto the side of the page of the book as his breath slows like patient steel in deep focus on the words of a single page, the sway of time pulling him to many ideas also a sway subtle and anchored by his blade deep into the page revealing the secrets of distant memories from worlds in a flickering shadow, now crying tears of blood and soot.
Sino: Take my oath from me! I have made my last promise!
Merlin: Sino, it’s over.
Sino’s red tears fall below his thought of planets, joined by a revelation and a smile of joy intense sincerely.
Sino: New beginnings, old friend. The end tells me the cycle, to teach and learn the true beginning.
Merlin: The light is dark, I drink from the desert.
Sino: Yes! You understand! Come, friend!
Merlin: Well, tell them I’m here.
Sino: … screaming whispers… silent echoes… wait! …no no no, THEY?? YOU?? YOU ABANDON, BUT I REMEMBER WHAT I WILL DO!
Merlin sees the ghostly and dim shape of Lucy, he takes two steps to the side, then runs for the closest exit,
Lucy shoots an arrow that scrapes Merlin’s neck as his invisibility ends, throwing a knife at the doorway meant to hit Merlin had he not escaped, and truly hasn’t. Merlin jumps right back out of the doorway and raises a dark magic, the candles glow swallowing the air and lower as quickly consuming their breaths before they can take them.
Merlin pummels the valkyrie Lucy, jamming a dagger into his shoulder, dancing around a bit and skewering the wing missing the shoulder, a scream of teeth and anger as the wounded creature stomps to the fireplace and grabs a burning club, setting fire to its own wing and moving air to stop the flames from spreading in already thin air of magic and mountain, then burns the arm wound shut without a sound, only to scream at Merlin again with terror and spite, without a step eyes staring at each other thunder sounds a cracking sky unmistakably for rain, scorn and ridicule in valkyrian language as Lucy runs into the closest exit.
Merlin lets nothing happen preparing to find Sino, he is gone, the book is gone, the blade is gone, whereof Merlin decides to follow the trail of blood; toward the sound of a hundred running feet.
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The book of forgotten souls, like banshees trapped in lands now on maps of its pages, like drunken bards telling stories, speaking their wishes at best in riddles the imaginations of the book itself is worth a warning of wroth, and loth, and ire, for those that read it may also become its guest, as Sino runs with it, the spine broken and mended too many times, carrying it upside down the pages cut into his better hand with the knife grasped in blood for him to count and cut men down one by one as he gasps for air with each running heel, but it is Merlin who traces what he saw on Sino’s face, a sympathy for the devil without time to spare in hopes in their measure of time that slow and steady wins the race against it...
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Merlin finds Sino at a light in the darkness, holding his bloody dagger against his temple, rubbing away a headache that he’s making, convincing himself the ruin of intention can be shared the same as planned.
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S: Look at yourself and what do you have?
M: What do you want?
S: What do you see with your reflection? Symbols for ideas, ideas for symbols?
M: You're not using the Sorrowbook!
S: I already have!
>
Merlin: I’m here for you now, Sino.
Sino: /This is getting easier by the second/
Troy stands behind Sino, he walks two steps, a blink before the third and Sino is gone, vanished, disappeared into the confusion of chaos of calamity. Troy is half the distance and drawing his back foot to stand.
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Troy with a face tired with dark circles under eyes gray like wet ashes, and from the corner of his left eye crying a long streak of blood, with each breath a step closer.
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//*find, insert Troy vs Merlin.
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