tellthestory: (♪ staccato ♫)
The Balladeer ([personal profile] tellthestory) wrote 2016-11-22 03:18 pm (UTC)

[The bright spotlight hurts his eyes and his already-aching head. He has to turn away a little, squinting up at her out of the corner of his vision. The motion leaves him looking right at his halo of bloodspray. He shuts his eyes.

It was a lot easier to face her when he was standing between her and his cast. Now there's no dark theatre between them, and the absence of the others leaves fear free to twist his guts. He runs his tongue across his dry lips, suddenly longing for the old days, when he felt proud and cocksure enough to needle the assassins at their work. They never scared him, not until the very end. Where is that person now?

...he misses when the word friend from her lips didn't make him flinch.]


I'm limited...
Just look at me - I'm limited.
And look at them, they can do all I couldn't do...


[His hands are shaking. He curls them into fists, bristles up at her despite still being on the ground. The orchestra isn't playing along with him anymore, but he is not alone.]

Let others rise
To take my place,
Until the Opera's free!

Post a comment in response:

This account has disabled anonymous posting.
(will be screened)
(will be screened)
If you don't have an account you can create one now.
HTML doesn't work in the subject.
More info about formatting