a king walks among us
”I’m glad you like them.” Something of a grin pulls on his mouth as he looks up at her, eyes shining along the black expanse of his form, but seeing, yes, seeing the magic and seeing the bringer of the magic to this world. He knows so little, yet
he
hungers.
El Rey wears wonder without a mask.
He has nothing to hide.
(And though he seldom thinks it for all the times he has acted on it, if there was anything worth hiding he would simply snuff out the lives of the informed like the candles of his cellar. Warm, and visible, and when the night fell -
gone.)
She comes closer to him and he only watches with that child’s face, the strange innocence of the only fed body in the vicinity. He does not notice the starved twirling away from them like petals on a wicked wind, curling from their bladed brethren on the ground or the two strange beings holding court in a desert meadow.
”Magic.”
”Magic,” he echoes, breathlessly, for there is nothing greater to the victims of mundane life.
(If his could be called such a thing.)
”Would you like to see more?”
El Rey leans forward with the force of his wonder. ”Yes.”
@Isra
”in blood the blade, to its golden hilt, I’ll drown,“
I pledge you now, to death they all are bound,
