《The Fisher King》IX-I. The Night Is Still Young
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Urielle flew high in the dead of night, carrying Mallary, Opal, and Waylan. The dark knight's wings emanated a sense of evil and despare into the city below. As if a missery had taken a human form. From the missery, wisdom spreaded, like a cancer in the dark of the night.
The elderly grew excited at the though of putting their grandchildren to bed. They told stories of misery and tragedey, plauges and death; but at the end of every misery was hope. Something that perist in the darkness, fight against all odds. The tales of heroes, kings, hero king, and villains spread across the restless city. A fallen being who guards the gates of a promised land appears in every story, indifferent to villains and heroes.
"Look at the ground," Urielle sighed as they glided overhead, "Fools who preach of hope like it's real. A fate they don't even know if they'll ever be rewarded with. Waiting for something that will never come. What's the difference between heroes and villians I wonder... Is there even a difference? Who knows, even a god's will can be bended and twisted until it's against it's original purpose. Everyone is a hero in their own story, even if they are the villains in anothers. Ironic, isn't it?"
Urielle looked down at Opal who had her head burried in Urielle's chest as they flew. Opal, afraid of heights, shivered in fear and from the cold night sky. "I just want to sleep. I want to be warm," she thought to herself. Her black bandana unravled and blew away in the wind. She tried to grab it, but the wind was too strong and fierce. "No," she shouted as it blew away.
"I'll get you a new one," Urielle replied to the one-eyed, blue hair little girl.
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"I want that one!" She stubornly replied.
"Sigh... You mortals and your perverse instistance on certain matter things. It's one of the things I find most annoying. What makes that scarf so precious?" Urielle looked around and noticed she had flown too far. "Oops! Silly me! It seems I've flown to far east. Let's see." She mummured as she looked around a bit. "Was it to the west or south? No, it was north. How could I forgot."
Urielle soared east at speeds of what seemed really fast for Opal. She tucked her coal wings and twirrled in a circle like a rollarcoaster gone mad. Up and down became irrelvent, right and left were the same. All that Opal known was that it made her dizzy.
"There! Now we're on course for rest!" Urielle gleefully cheered.
"Mine," Opal reached out with one hand to the sky. She wanted her bandana back but there was nothing she could do. Opal started crying.
"It's nothing but a sheet of fabric, but if I find it will you stop your whining?" Urielle looked at Opal and Opal nodded yes. "Fine... Sigh... I'll find your scarf."
"Thank," Opal said, tucking her head back into Urielle's chest.
Urielle flew the rest of the way towards their location without making another word. The stars were dim, barely sparkling with life compared to the city, which had now died down. Urielle's aura surounded them with warmth and shined bright than any star. The moon, however, shined brighter with menace.
Opal looked up at the cresant moon to see not a regular moon, but a sininister face looking back. The moon had a few craters, but one was pure black like the night sky. This corrupted eye had a white iris of snow and a purple with a coal pupil. In the center of cresant, a long noise protruded out the side. It grinned with its big white teeth, finding something hilarious about the dark. Opal sensed its malice gaze as the moon looked back at her. It started opening it's mouth and laughing. Blood dripping from its mouth as it laughed. The eye changed from white to pure red as it span out of control. A deep raspy growl came from it, as it was laughing in pain. It was the same moon she saw all those years ago.
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Urielle broke the silence and Opal's gaze of the moon, "Do you know why the moon is like that?" Urielle noticed how intensely Opal stared at the moon. "It's because of the madness of one being, neither god or man. Neither good nor evil. Someone, something, consumed by a sickness. A creature who isn't suppose to be here but has nowhere else to go. It's very essence consumed by grief, but never shows anyone. It smiles in spite of its missery. Belief is a powerful tool, you know. If your enemy believes you're mightier than you really are, they will hesitate to attack. However, like all tools it can be used against you. Belief creates armies and destroys trust in others. You can bend someone to their very knees, so what if you could bend the world with this power? What kind of world would be created?"
"A world based on beliefs and ideals," Opal responded as she wrapped the pink hoodie over her head.
"I suppose, but what about a world of truth? A world where everything is what it should be. A world where answers on not found on belief or ideas, but on the world. The world provides answers where then we stack those truths on top of each other to see what is there. Truth breaks friendships but also strengthens trust as well. Which begs to differ... Which is better a world of truth? Where reality shapes one's self... Or one of ideals? Where one shapes reality. But who knows!! I'm just a singer."
Opal thought hard about what Urielle said, but wasn't able to fully understand. "What a weirdo... Why not just talk to Mal?" She thought to herself, "She talks too much and to who?" Opal had forgotten she was up in the sky as Urielle's monologue had distracted her.
"We're here!" Urielle exclaimed as she dove straight and crashed into the roof of a house.
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