vercingtorix
—«
those who escape hell
however
never talk about
it
and nothing much
bothers them
after
that.
»
I
cannot help but think if a boy were to be born with snakes writhing at his head and neck, he’d have been sentenced to death in Oresziah. The attending midwife would have wrenched him from the grasp of the mother and taken him to the black cliffs. There, he’d be left out to die. I cannot help but think if a man looks like a monster, undeniably that is what they will become.
There are few occasions where I have ever felt the need to insert myself into family affairs. I would not count this situation as one such case, either--it is simply a matter of intrigue, of understanding one’s enemy. I am curious, and it is with Adonai’s soft touch still fresh in my mind that I seek out his brother. The party is entering its final stages. Lovers wrap themselves into corners; the dancers who remain are intoxicated and stumbling. Even the lights seem dimmer, and I recognise the inconvenience of ordering a drink so close to the end of the night.
Nevertheless, I find myself at Pilate’s open bar. “I’ll take the gold cocktail, please.” At a nearer proximity, even I can admit the Ieshan’s second prince seems otherworldly. It is the snakes, I believe; the way they dance and intertwine, and fixate upon me with polished, dark eyes. It is the scales, too, and the hard carving of his features. Perhaps all the Ieshans are secretly made of polished marble, are wrought of angles and lines and perfect symmetry.
This does not intimidate me, as it might intimidate some. In those so beautifully wrought, there is always an essence of fragility, of… unbrokenness. I smile a languid smile. It is the grin I have learned from lions and wolves, and generals of war. “It is quite a party,” I compliment, graciously. I wait for him to serve me a drink.
Even this, I think, has room for contemplation. For now, he is my servant. He has put himself in that position, as host. I wait a moment, taking a small drink. Then, I ask: “Was your mother really a witch?” Yes, I think. She must have been.
Or else she would have shorn those snakes from his brow the moment he was born.
