Ember McLain's Apartment
Mar 29, 2010 20:35:26 GMT -5
Post by Knave of Hearts on Mar 29, 2010 20:35:26 GMT -5
Finally the Knave was free!
Escaped from Underland and the punishment of the White Queen, free from Her.
She owed him no kindness, that was what the White Queen had told him when he was banished. She had been right, of course. Nobody owed the Knave a kindness, ever. It was in the very nature of his being.
For that was what he was, even more so than it was who he was. Ilosovic Stayne, the name he was sometimes given, did not seem like him. Or perhaps, maybe, somewhere so different it was not even the past but further removed, it had been him... but it was not. He was and would forever be the Knave.
The Knave of Hearts... maybe not forever. He might someday change his suit, but he had the deep inherent knowledge that the deck had been dealt and he would always be Knave.
This did not help him in his present predicament... for while he was clearly not in Underland anymore, the Knave had little knowledge of where it was that he was, so to speak. The hole, if it had even been a true hole, he'd emerged from appeared to have vanished.
Or no, not vanished... hidden, more likely. Lurking and laying in wait for prey, someone who could... would... should belong in Underland.
Someone who was no longer... him.
The knowledge hit him with so much pain that for an instant the Knave thought his other eye had been taken from him, blinding him forever. It was like blindness, the darkness descending... no, attacking him. Attacking him like a flock of ravens, or perhaps even writing desks.
He no longer belonged in Underland...
The darkness maintained and it took the grief stricken Knave quite a few moments before he realized that this was actual tangible darkness.
He slowly brought up a gloved hand to peel away the newspaper that had flown into his face.
So mundane... like everything here seemed to be. The Knave didn't like normal, it made him feel even more out of place than he already was. For he was now truly out of place, everywhere.
He was about to toss the paper aside when something caught his one good eye. He wasn't sure why the ad demanded his attention... maybe it was the type, reminiscent of the handwriting that had written his orders back in his service of the Queens, maybe it was something different, but capture his attention it did.
And so the Knave read.
It was... unusual. Unusual enough to bring something of a smile to his scarred face. The Knave liked unusual things.
Maybe... just maybe... he wasn't so out of place after all.
With swift steps and a commanding attitude the Knave set about his new goal, demanding the location of the address mentioned in the ad from several frightened... peasants, he guessed... all of them scary in their mundane normalcy, before he finally found it.
Was it a castle? It seemed tall enough to be so... then perhaps the one who placed the message would be a Queen... a Queen without a Knave...
Oblivious to any modern equipment that might have eased his journey the Knave practically ran up the stairs, ignoring the... soldiers, possibly? They seemed to want him to identify himself, but the Knave had a higher goal now.
He almost skidded to a halt in front of the door with the right number... even if it appeared to be quite small (for the Knave, in any case) to lead to a throneroom.
There, the Knave took a moment to collect himself... and knocked.
Escaped from Underland and the punishment of the White Queen, free from Her.
She owed him no kindness, that was what the White Queen had told him when he was banished. She had been right, of course. Nobody owed the Knave a kindness, ever. It was in the very nature of his being.
For that was what he was, even more so than it was who he was. Ilosovic Stayne, the name he was sometimes given, did not seem like him. Or perhaps, maybe, somewhere so different it was not even the past but further removed, it had been him... but it was not. He was and would forever be the Knave.
The Knave of Hearts... maybe not forever. He might someday change his suit, but he had the deep inherent knowledge that the deck had been dealt and he would always be Knave.
This did not help him in his present predicament... for while he was clearly not in Underland anymore, the Knave had little knowledge of where it was that he was, so to speak. The hole, if it had even been a true hole, he'd emerged from appeared to have vanished.
Or no, not vanished... hidden, more likely. Lurking and laying in wait for prey, someone who could... would... should belong in Underland.
Someone who was no longer... him.
The knowledge hit him with so much pain that for an instant the Knave thought his other eye had been taken from him, blinding him forever. It was like blindness, the darkness descending... no, attacking him. Attacking him like a flock of ravens, or perhaps even writing desks.
He no longer belonged in Underland...
The darkness maintained and it took the grief stricken Knave quite a few moments before he realized that this was actual tangible darkness.
He slowly brought up a gloved hand to peel away the newspaper that had flown into his face.
So mundane... like everything here seemed to be. The Knave didn't like normal, it made him feel even more out of place than he already was. For he was now truly out of place, everywhere.
He was about to toss the paper aside when something caught his one good eye. He wasn't sure why the ad demanded his attention... maybe it was the type, reminiscent of the handwriting that had written his orders back in his service of the Queens, maybe it was something different, but capture his attention it did.
And so the Knave read.
It was... unusual. Unusual enough to bring something of a smile to his scarred face. The Knave liked unusual things.
Maybe... just maybe... he wasn't so out of place after all.
With swift steps and a commanding attitude the Knave set about his new goal, demanding the location of the address mentioned in the ad from several frightened... peasants, he guessed... all of them scary in their mundane normalcy, before he finally found it.
Was it a castle? It seemed tall enough to be so... then perhaps the one who placed the message would be a Queen... a Queen without a Knave...
Oblivious to any modern equipment that might have eased his journey the Knave practically ran up the stairs, ignoring the... soldiers, possibly? They seemed to want him to identify himself, but the Knave had a higher goal now.
He almost skidded to a halt in front of the door with the right number... even if it appeared to be quite small (for the Knave, in any case) to lead to a throneroom.
There, the Knave took a moment to collect himself... and knocked.