down the burning ropes

Sirius Revlis · 04-11-2012, 11:03 AM

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<3 From now on, you can just pp/assume that she has lessons with Siri once a week or so, if you want? And steadily learns how to read/write/speak Italian, plus probably some basic geography, and whatever else? Siri would make a good professor. c: >> wordcount: +3

Knowledge was his lifeblood. The King's craft was one of manipulation; the spider hanging from his web, playing puppeteer to all those below the rafters. It was for this reason alone that he was king, for why else? He was no pillar of unyielding earthly strength, nor had he the grace and wisdom of a worldly elder, not the just kindness of a monarch chosen and beloved by the people. No, Sirius had taken power through the sheer wickedness of his mind, through the genius that enabled him to conquer the minds of others. Knowledge was the core of this, always. It was what had made his thrown and crown, and what would one day, unmake them.

With each passing dawn the King's paranoia grew a little stronger. He was no stranger to fear - Rather, he was as close to it as a lover, familiar with it enough to embrace it into his bones like an old friend. Fear was what kept smart men alive. He was afraid of many things; Of his own mortality. Of the mortality of the world. Disbelief in deities came at a cost, one that he sacrificed daily with the acceptance of death being a brutal finality. But most, of late, he feared the shadows in his own mind. There was a sickness there, one that had been passed down to him through the blood of a mad prince. The genius had kept it at bay for so long, and once mastered, the mechanics of his mind had enabled him to feel a sense of immortality - Had enabled him to worship himself as a god, for in that mastery had been total and utter control of all fears, and all things. But of late, in the deep darkness of nights, those shadows had crept closer, grown colder; And the genius that had made him would be his undoing, for he saw the signs for what they were. And thus the fear bloomed forth, a constant poison.

But she was young, too young to know such things that had taken him a lifetime to understand. It alarmed the King to consider that she might be able to grasp such concepts already, might already have the answers that he had killed to reach. It made him uneasy, but such a thing did not show.

Her reply was exactly what he had expected, exactly what he had predicted from the girl. The sense of satisfaction in being the owner of this knowledge was hollow, and bitter. The king's eyes remained on the path, his predatory step light and silent. Her question hung in the air, unanswered, and would remain that way - Perhaps because he felt no desire to justify himself to a mere child, or perhaps because he did not truly know the answer himself. "You will come to me once weekly, Artemisia. Tell your mother I command it; She will excuse you from your chores for an afternoon, surely," He spoke in a soft, absent tone, but it was heavy and ladened if she listened hard enough. "I will be your teacher, and you will learn the things that your heart wishes to know."

Sirius Revlis

Hail the Conqueror Worm

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