the-demon-of-light:

  ░▒▓█ ⊰♚⊱

                                               Chosen by destiny, 
                                               marked by death, 
                                               raised by war,
                                               acknowledged by saints, 
                                               hailed by demons …

             It was a very potent soul. A whole galaxy immured into one osseous frame, astral heart permeated with threads of superfine golden dust, the cosmic blackness that draws and absorbs entire stellar systems; Fated to become a supreme ruler granted with a crown that vested him with regal privilege. More than others he knew what meant to be imprisoned by someone else’s expectations. The universe of eternal holiday was not so easy arranged. He was there not only for grand pompous parties, however reciprocally to withstand the indigence and peril. It was severe. To always be ready, to never let your eyes be closed, forever on duty, beloved cherished duty, but nevertheless… there always existence an imminency.   
                             No matter how much he cloistered himself, it was just a must between times to simply leave. Because as much as the crown enclosed the sapience and prophecy of the king in royal circlet, it couldn’t enclose the danger which a monarch himself could become…

          It wasn’t a metamorphosis caused by arrogance and avarice. There was no place for these things here. Here it was much more exhaustive than some human flaws we can name one by one. It is know that stars that glow brighter than the rest are about to explode sooner or later. And he was the sun. Always radioactive, always emiting great amounts of horror, nightmares, havoc, chaos and destruction…
                                  He died many times. His consciousness shattered into peaces, bones melted poignantly and the soul destroyed everything in final fatal outburst. Self-destruction that comes regardless his wishes, a circumstance he had to accept every single time and go away before it will affect on the kingdom which he protects from the misery, foes and, what is more terrible than the rest of strong reasons, from himself.

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      It was certainly a vivid memory in the harpy’s mind. The dryness of the forest’s ground, the perfect equilibrium of the fallen leaves, the sepulchral silence, only broken by the flapping of ravens in the distance. So far away it felt like it belonged to a vague reminiscence of a dream, now brought to a reality, trapped in it’s stillness where it truly didn’t belong. But it was fitting either way. 

The whisper of the moth’s delicate wings accompanied each step. Her talons made no noise on the ground, and even if she wasn’t quite sure of where she was, Monet wasn’t afraid. 

The warmth of summer had abandoned long ago those lands, if it had ever touched it at all. After hours of walking, venturing herself in the unknown, walking through a moorland that never seemed to end she found Halloween Town. A scerey of warm browns, intense ochres and bright oranges that quickly attracted her attention.

It seemed that Autumm had come to that land, and she definitely wasn’t wrong. What she didn’t know was about the never ending fall of that kingdom. How could have she known? In her own world the weather was utterly unpredictable in Grand Line, so she wrongly assumed that if it were to snow in such place it wouldn’t be something particularly extraordinary. And she had been so wrong– Now Monet remembered it with a smile.

The people of Halloween Town had reacted in a way that honestly surprised her. Monet was used to the excitement and the happiness that snow brought people, but she had never seen something like that. 

The inhabitants of that magical city loved snow, and just because of that Monet thought they would get along. But still, she decided to hide a bit longer. Until she found Jack.

As she lost herself in her thoughts for brief seconds, remembering that day with an odd, but no an unwelcome, fondness the rain had stopped falling outside, just after Jack said it. Unavoidably Monet wondered if that fascinating being had power to control the weather too, or if it had been just a coincidence.

A smile found its way to her lips as she looked through the window, past the silhouette of Jack.  

— ❝ We tend to overlook what we always had and the only things we’ve known.❞ 

        She told him. Her hometown had also been one trapped in autumm. But that autumn had nothing to do with Jack’s kingdom. It lacked of warmth and of hope and happiness. It had been a land of despair, pain and prejudices. Nothing like that land.

He wished there was more whiteness? A small chuckle eluded her lips and without hesitation, Monet used her skill to cool down everything outside that room. The ground’s dampness became hoarfrost quickly and the humidity in the air fell, turned into tiny icy crystals. 

— ❝ But should you want more whiteness and cold I can easily grant you that.❞ 

       Snowflakes begun to fall outside Jack’s abode, dancing before the window as they slowly drifted down and down. Jack had been kind to her since the very first moment and Monet was nothing but grateful.

There were little things she could do to show her gratitude, and definitely, should Jack want winter, Monet would give it to him for as long as he wanted.