As the battle raged on,
Andulan began to feel increasingly uncomfortable,
Her combat high was wearing off, the needs of her ivy,
Were becoming greater and greater, taken without consideration of,
Her needs or wishes.
Rick used the borrowed moonlight to focus his song,
Down the length of his bow, humming a song under his breath to steady his nerves,
Rick set loose a single note, with a message written just for her,
Its alright now, you can rest, no one is going to hurt you,
I'm here for you...

It was a delayed effect,
Slow enough to leave John and the rest to her devices,
Even empowered as they were, song had its limits,
Each found themselves entangled, disarmed and held high into the air,
John was fondest toy, brought in intimately close for a rendezvous,
Andulan caressed him lovingly, ******* in knots as he was, he couldn't resist,
As she bit into his unblemished neck.
Kevin dropped in, riding ****** adrenaline that gave him measure,
Intoxicated by cortisol that nullified his immediate pain,
He and Paul shrugged off numerous gashes to the arms, legs and chest,
Each was stabbed in a near fatal area near their hearts,
But it didn't stop Kevin from cutting him free from Andulan's grasp,
Nor did it prevent Paul from pressing his trident up to her throat,
To bring her down breathless and weakened.

She regained her humanity, felt herself dosing off from the effects,
Of her everlasting anemia, to sustain her ivy as it labored to,
Heal her bruised and broken body.
I didn't ask for any of this, all I wanted was to be loved,
And permitted to wander the halls of my entitlement,
Weightless and carefree...

Rick's soothing release came for her,
Hitting her just below her black coronet,
Above her left eye, while she was lying face down buried in blonde curls,
Staring forward at them as they knelt down to comfort her, as her hell vanished.
Sensation filled her universe with questions, it was like she'd woken up in the center,
Of a burning village holding a blackened torch in her hands, too dry to cry.
She wanted to ask questions but couldn't muster the strength to,
What remained of her dress was drenched in sweat and fear,
At the thought of transforming again.
Still covered in decaying green foliage, that retracted slowly back into her body.
It all quivered and complained as it died back, leaving only its core rooted in her womb.

One of her last remaining Snakeshead died from his wounds,
Restating his oath to serve Andulan before slipping beneath the black,
No song awaited him on the other side, only pools of venom,
On an island of silence.
That killed down to the last, knew his survival was heavy,
So he tore off a symbol of his responsibilty, from a brotherly neck.
Andulan was found passed out and alone, with a starry sky above to glimpse upon,
It didn't exist for him, all that mattered was that his beloved was still alive,
Battered and bruised, but living nonetheless.
He carried her off into the forest, taking her to a clearing beside a frog filled pond.
It croaked with slimy life, pouches of green littered the vernal pool, filled with capsules.
It was a melodious, low pitched song that eased him to sleep beside her,
He'd wake up with her lying over him.

All else would scream and try to escape,
But not you, my loyal snakeshead, not you,
We raised you like a member of an extended family,
Taught you reading, writing, arithemetic,
Gave you scales to wear and weapons to master,
Granted service to fill out your otherwise meaningless existence,
He interrupted her.
I live to serve you m'lady, no other vocation gives my pulse rhythm,
You gave us the power to exceed mortal limits, sharpened our minds beyond,
The scopes employed by lesser men cannot gaze upon what I have seen,
Thanks to you...
She sunk her fangs into his giving neck, he closed his eyes and wept,
At the majesty of it all.

The night she was killed, she was but a girl of 13.
Still young and whole.
Unblemished by that insistence that all fade with time.
Fresh flowers went unnoticed around her.
Guarded night and day, joined by her father's snakes wherever she went.
Wandering the passages of her entitlement bare-foot and weightless.
She'd be gawked at if she tried that outside the blissful permission granted by.
Her father's hold over the world.
Tragically from their perspective only.
Song stood as worthy challenge to Venom's potency.
Easier to apply and effortless to spread.
Once inside it charted course across territory wearing clothes from all cultures.
Puppets of such quantity couldn't be bitten into submission quick enough.
To stem the tide of red they'd set into crashing motion.

Oil was used to seal her fate and that of her siblings.
While a sword was ****** through her only relative.
In clear view as she writhed in fire.
The crush of fabric attached to her only competition.
Threatened to smother before the fire could claim her.
As her sisters and lone brother agonized in a pool of misery.
She thought only of herself and her slain father.
The only person worthy of acknowledgement.
The others never recognized her beauty or grace.
It made her sneer at them with disdain.
Her mother was throttled for hours, where none would bear witness.
Andulan couldn't care less.

Blackened beyond resemblance to that of a living girl.
Andulan was delivered to a cold hard slab of vile witchcraft.
Only this wasn't a witch's coven.
Nor was any witchcraft actually involved.
That was merely what she screamed once she realized where she wasn't.
Lying face down leaking into snow beneath her ruined corpse.
Andulan demanded her throat be cut immediately.
My death was why you came by the thousands to our castle right?
For what other reason did your forces come for the throne held by my father?
If not to see us all stacked and burnt atop a stripped down column of humanity?
Tell me! But they owed her no explanation.
That was when silence reached for song's hands.
Hidden behind her skull.
A simple gesture freed her from her thoughts.
Replaced a girl with a monster.

Matthew saw she couldn't stand.
He knew it was the weapon that held her.
Trembling before its power.
After that near death experience years ago.
She'd never been the same girl.
He'd found alone and shivering.
As rain soaked her bones.
An infant before circumstance.
That ruffled head of innocence.
Brown eyed and unflowered
Couldn't take it all in now or then.

No one came for her tears.
To collect them in a bowl.
Nor did caring words tucked in a note.
Bring her closure, still she'd had to try.
And make waiting work against facts.
Will corpses to stand once more.
Why...How, I...
Through rain and bitter cold.
She'd wander hours uncounted.
Searching for faces unfound.
Beneath venomous tides of reason.
Reasons she couldn't see.
There was no how.
Only why.

Matthew was older.
His why solidified while.
Her's crossed her feet as mist.
Black and typical in a village.
Burnt cold by lives unreturned.
His father died from carried wounds.
Mother by disease, endless fever.
That life as a boy eagerly hearted.
Courageous with lungs of infinite capacity.
He'd breathe for hours at full speed.
His heart never undone.
His father's axe, always smiling.
Even through brown and off white
It passed through for hours on its way to him
And his mother in happier days.
But ghosts would hold here,
Never letting go, no matter how loving he,
Had to go on so.
He crushed them between his eyes.
Leaving the past to the dead.

Sickness claimed Matthew.
Not hunger or lack of faith.
It was too much.
To strike him down with unavoidable truths.

He didn't deserve that.
To live under stretching shadows.
Following him wherever we went.
In a world bereft of compassion.

With armed guards patrolling night and day.
Threatening beggars and waifs with imprisonment or worse.
I was the sole coin in his purse.
With me he could buy all the happiness his imagination could afford.

Together we stole to fill our bellies.
Hid to elude capture.
And invaded a nearby tavern to lift our spirits.
Maidens took great pains to dissuade.

Luckily I was equipped to persuade.
Finding myself without coin, Silence would have to suffice.
Song would have to wait, as it always did.
Matthew, pitiable and stricken with illness.

Attracted concern from all around.
Within these painted walls of red and black.
Where men threw back.
Speaking from the heart unfiltered.

He was a touch of humanity in a place of escape and denial.
Many of the serving wenches had children.
Or knew of youngsters battling disease and faced with hunger.
He was unaware of my plan.

Naive beyond measure.
He'd stand there to soak in their companionship.
Even ignored as he was he still fed off them.
He was a fool, he was my fool.

And I played him as such, acting on our behalf.
Without compunction I waited outside.
Waiting and scheming to steal that which young hands.
Can never grasp alone.

A stumbling *****, often heard spewing falsehoods and spittle.
Emerged dumb-footed and large of head.
He'd be off to a bed a woman.
Of ignoble birth no doubt.

Who or why I couldn't spy.
A reason to care.
He wasn't dressed in white and green.
So alone he would likely dream.

In place he wore what he could find in store.
A purple vest lined with silver trim down the front.
Wrought iron buttons kept his blonde wilderness in check.
I could smell the metal.

Of coin held in pockets.
Jangling in my head, soo near at hand.
Dangling from a strap at his waist.
I found fortune's place.

He turned to face me.
But saw nothing within that bush.
Hiding my likeness from his clouded eyes.
And blunted intellect.

Soft footfalls neared proximity.
Slipping silently with blade in hand.
I severed ties with wealth and redistributed it to me.
To us and our needs.

That swollen pouch fell to earth.
I caught it wearing mirth.
As it landed in my left with a plop.
I knew it to be heavy as a sack of bronze potatoes.

Harvested plump and earthy from stainless soil.
Unadulterated and free from trickery.
The goody drunk did well to not notice me.

His life wouldn't be the first.
Forever shall I be his left-hand girl.
And he my right-hand boy.

No telling a child of four.
How they'd been taken.
How they'd never come back.
No matter how long she waited.
Or how strong her will became.
They wouldn't drop in with the rain.
Couldn't reach that drain.
With arms deadened by spear.
To pull himself back into his daughter's...
Life of four fragile moments.

Unspeakable grief.
Couldn't handle it.
Had to run into the mist.
Beyond village limits.
It carved a path unknown.
Untouched perhaps there.
The rules were different.
Maybe they're waiting.
For me, Father, mother,
I'm coming...
It's them.
It has to be.

Creaking doors moved by hands.
That held no form.
Twin shadows of maybe.
Awaited obscured and unknown.
She closed eyes not yet hers.
Bent knees and kicked feet uncut by time.
Puddles leapt aside, splashing into the unreality.
The refused truth.
Janet ran it quicker than Matthew.
Could grip his axe...

Janet hit a tree, it stopped moving.
Squeezing eased her pain it was alright.
Drowned fingers intertwined to clasp forevermore.
Around a plausible trunk that had to be.
Daddy.
Confused yet interested, a man's hand wiped a brow.
Clean of water, retrieved glinting from leather length and.
Raised his answer to desperate love.

Matthew heard her blow.
That stroke belonged to her yet.
Passed her by.
Nothing changed until.
Red chill removed a sleeve.

That ugly sword.
Bent, dented and twisted from misuse.
Landed in sodden earth beside a sticking stone.
Polished by muddy excuses.
Those he brought with him.
Matthew was a smart boy but.
He couldn't read.

Denial and reality hit harsh.
As she collapsed into what was marsh.
Her crying made the heavens shed tears.
To compete with a girl of four years.
Her's combined and swallowed theirs.
Never again would they, spill from those eyes.

Moving couldn't happen.
She was struck by a life that wasn't.
Isn't, it can't be.
Said a chin angled and raised beneath tip of sword.
Odd cords of her own liquid, a red mystery.
Ran down where her sleeve should be.
Holding it for an answer didn't work.
A second sound pulled out a dirk.
Asked politely for this one.
Help yourself.

Matthew moved he didn't run.
Those weren't legs it was air.
Rushing faster than he didn't care.
If his life remained here or there.
Once his axe was raised above shoulder height.
He didn't have the strength.
To set it down again.

Black and red draped over ramparts.
Built by men in squalor.
Winked at us as we left.
It all behind.

Our parents lived outside these walls.
In a village far from here.
Could we return we might find.
That which we'd lost.

Friendship and fun.
Play that didn't come undone.
Whenever someone uninvolved.
Got themselves involved.

East of castle Sanguinair.
Blackened by the tide.
His men washed clean by victory.
Entertained by wine.

Came by the boatful.
Prideful, brash and boastful.
Little mind they gave ahead.
Spearheads laughed and bows did cry.
As helms marched ahead attached to mail and grime.
Many battles tempered fear with wisdom.
The knowledge that they knew.
Aided spear and guided shaft.
Passing through and through.

Once long ago it was but black and nothing else.
Now a splash of wine.
Had colored castle Sanguinair.
A color most divine.

By now earth's turn.
Had brought a stoic ally out from hiding.
Its mortified whiteness remained unchanged.
Before this world.
It had no reason to urge a man.
To smile.
Luminous rays of borrowed fame.
Came to bring perverted acclaim.
To steel soo twisted it didn't deserve a name.

Matthew didn't watch by choice.
It was that shard of queer unwashed civility
That pushed his face towards her, as her audience.
Unwilling and unforgiven.
Even by himself.

Choosing to die rather than watch.
Matthew rose to feet unsupported by vigor.
Wielding a simple woodcutter's axe.
Turned butcher's cleaver.
His foe turned, pivoted and let go of lever.
That wood exploded.
Its head fell into the marsh.
He fished for it but found instead.
A blade by his head.

There was nothing changed or nothing alive.
Once it came to shed light.
And truth trickled in.
Surrounding that night only hushed silence could be spoken
Between them ever again.
If only that axe was sharper and my skills.
Weren't a boy's instead a man held that weapon.
It wouldn't have happened.
Ever.

There was nothing changed or nothing alive.
Less broken than put together wrong,
Once it came to shed light.
And truth trickled in.
Surrounding that night only hushed silence could be spoken.
Between them ever again.
If only that axe was sharper and my skills,
Weren't a boy's instead a man held that weapon.
It wouldn't have happened.
Ever.

Terror makes everything clear.
As it fades away we learn the truth.
Keep a weapon always by your side.
Even if you trust them.
It never hurts to be certain of the outcome.
Took it from me and left nothing in return.
Better not come back expecting to stay alive.
A dead man once did that to me.
Couldn't let him get away with that for long.
Killed him with silence to end his song.

I will never forget her words.
Of sheer glass screeching against the world.
Of atrocities whose gravity.
Is inexorable.

Once that blade of silence enabled her to catch.
The thief's neck unaware.
She sent his lifeforce rolling down a valley.
Of prevented crimes.

Halted descent to gaze into cups of red,
Falling from one human reservoir to the next.
Each drop splashed to become happiness with a twirl,
No longer a girl.
She joyfully played with a life less than illegitimate,
Giggling soulless and unrepentant,
At the profanity of it all.

Vengeance usurped her throne,
Without dignity to advise her,
When logic crumbled trying to stop her from.
Taking it back.
I diverted that hand.

Clutching silent cure with rigid fingers.
Janet she,
Pressed purpose to reason's concern.
Revealed psychosis and told my heart,
No.

With a plain face and quivering smirk,
I was pushed back with an emptying ****.
He's still there, still alive and well,
I'd like to not be as such.

Hidden inside our new home of blue and gold.
Caught by lyrical promises sang by a once comely ally.
Turned fat idiot by serpent's slaughter.
Toblin's other vassal was spotted.
Grinning accomplice or not he was.
Spotted.
Recognized.
Slaughtered.
In the aforementioned manner.

I will never forget her words.
Of sheer glass screeching against the world.
Of atrocities whose gravity.
Is inexorable.

Once that blade of silence enabled her to catch.
The thief's neck unaware.
She sent his lifeforce rolling down a valley.
Of prevented crimes.

Halted descent to gaze into pools of red,
Falling from one inhuman reservoir to the next.
She joyfully played with a life less than illegitimate,
Giggling soulless and unrepentent,
At the profanity of it all.

Without dignity to hold her back.
When logic tried to stop her from.
Taking it back.
Janet she,
Pressed purpose to reason's concern.
Revealed psychosis and told me,
No.

With a plain face and quivering smirk,
I was pushed back with an emptying ****.
He's still there, still alive and well,
I'd like to not be as such.

Hidden inside our new home of black and red.
Caught by lyrical promises sang by a once comely ally.
Turned fat idiot by serpent's slaughter.
Toblin's other vassal was spotted.
Grinning accomplice or not he was.
Spotted.
Recognized.
Slaughtered.
In the aforementioned manner.

Escorted from uncut roses,
Janet fought without power,
Against the unreality carrying her away,
From perceived solutions.
Lurking beneath her surface,
The edge of restraint stirred endlessly,
Threatening to cleave my head free,
From worthless neck.
That sleeve was still gone,
**** tainted by a red chill,
Stared at my failures,
Tempting my soul to crush my heart,
With a damning duality.

Janet snarled at me,
As I redressed her with bloodless clothes,
Those eyes could ****, but for unknown reasons,
They denied me release.
Not looking upon her with a single eye,
It was a hideous sight,
Washed her clean of nightmares,
Worn outside her skull,
Beside a waterwheel followed by no one,
Except my guilt.
I tainted once heavenly waves,
Of prosperity that flowed between hands,
Sticking not an inch up my arms,
I was denied awareness of that difference between,
Surface temperature and groundwater.
Because I had to do what she needed,
Not what she wanted,
Janet pressed that silence,
That stole her voice, replaced by primal utterings,
To my unafraid throat.

I redirected silence away from nothing,
She'd solve it and be alone in a world that,
Would devour her again.
Beside all that would cross her fragile path,
Shivering in a ball of herself with,
Those grinning demons.
They were our friends she said once grown,
House Venom was our source of exile,
Not Toblin's promises...

We made travel upon a road.
Of coarse stones and leaves aplenty.
Shrubs framed the dire edges.
Unable to support much life.

We watched through a clouded mirror.
As Toblin's men marched through.
Torches in hand.
Held by the ages.
Our memories were there still.
Able to send waves of history.
Screaming, dying, crying back to us.

Matthew had hoisted me along.
Hooking his arm under mine.
Taking us both to an old cabin.
Long abandoned and disowned.

Men upon saddle.
Entered Sharin's tear, a little town less than mine.
But still more than nothing.
We eluded suspicion huddled beside ashen rubble.

A chimney's corpse concealed us well.
Both of us coughed and sneezed.
Choked and wheezed.
On the dust and ashes left in the wake.
Of Lord Toblin's last mistake.

Once reclothed and restored,
Outward appearance still concealed truth,
Her heart was elsewhere not here,
Someplace between hate and fear,
A space of ungraspable power and agony,
Few fear for few would ever near its core,
Willingly, still,
More and more initiates wormed their way towards,
That vacuous chamber,
It's mine she said,
It's mine!

I had stolen them myself,
Cloth of soothing tightness,
Wrapping it around damning proof,
Praying it to close around her pain,
To keep her from remembering.
Clueless and possessed by forbidden sufferings,
Janet grabbed a tuft of my hair and held it sobbing,
Pulling at the root.
Enduring my appropriate punishment,
She cried,
Through ungiving eyes nothing soaked her dignity,
Concealment continued though,
To herself she admitted,
What had happened.

As that grip loosened,
Shaking uncontrollably,
Often flickered a shade of bronze,
Betwixt hushed gasps of silence,
A turning wrist, twisting against mineral limits,
I heard a song playing,
As her sliced arm betrayed by inhumanity,
Shook and convulsed without forethought,
I saw her salvation,
Dangling above my weakness.

I seized her arm,
Held that crippled trembling hand,
Freed Janet from silence by,
Opening her trust forcibly and resolutely,
I had to set her free even if I had to,
Break each finger one by one.
Until she dropped it and reverted back,
Into that unflowered girl propped up against,
An unwell.
I didn't stop even as vile unmeant words,
Lashed my heart raw and bleeding,
Twice round the globe.

I woke up in his arms,
Cradled in his scent beneath open clouds,
Spring had spread everywhere,
I thought it winter as I slowly opened them,
But I was pleasantly surprised.
Matthew held my smallnesses, as both strained reaching for answers,
I didn't know I wanted.

Last I remember, a blade of silver was placed in my left hand,
A cold chill accompanied by a hundred or more voices,
All vying for an audience,
Came to speak with me as a mob of viewpoints,
All contradicting one another.
So she's the newest sacrifice,
She won't last a year.
I told them to shut up which they did.
That was when an inhuman, ghostly voice,
Spoke words that felt in tune with my pulse,
When I tried to rebel I felt like I was burning,
I couldn't escape it with Matthew and run away,
Though I almost held out long enough.
I told him I needed to rest, which I did,
Lying with my back supported by a wagon wheel I,
Tried to fall into rest, but each time I began to drift off it,
Stabbed my heart,
All that was, accelerated.
Spinning lights appeared above.
I was frozen by fright.
Yell out and I'll turn on you,
I'll make his death slow,
Cut out his eyes, leave him deaf,
He won't see it coming.
I was quick to surrender,
Since resistance only bought pain
I thought of Matthew when I said,
Ok, I'll do what you ask,
He was perplexed and asked me if I was alright,
I smiled and nodded politely
It said the roses needed cutting.

Oddly I smelt blood,
Everywhere it pervaded us both,
I tried to move but I couldn't,
My hands especially felt weakened somehow,
Have I not eaten for days or his he,
Not letting me leave?
His shackles were there, oversized and unyielding,
Trying to escape felt like a cruel joke,
I gave up rather than suffer humiliation.
Let me go I want to get up,
I asked him gently,
I can't let you leave my sight,
My silver dagger was nowhere to be found,
Where'd you put it?
I asked a statue,
I don't know what you mean,
Are you feeling alright Janet?

Matthew's eyes were steady,
Malice wasn't there, only natural concern and well,
He feared something.
Why are you doing this?
I demanded less than enthused,
I can't let you know that Janet,
You'll just have to trust me.

Apparently he'd bandaged my arm,
An old injury I suffered as a clumsy girl,
Barely more than four,
Running beneath a spreading maple tree,
He told me I was laughing when I fell,
That my crying lead him to me,
Since I'd gotten lost on our journey,
Trying to retrace our destiny.

That was seven years ago,
Youth had smoothed me out long ago,
Refitted these bones with fresh skin,
No way this old scar would need treatment,
What is going on here?
Tell me why you bandaged my arm,
How did I get hurt this badly?
Matthew didn't flinch when he said,
I just wanted to cover it that's all,
You were inviting unwanted attention.
That was the truth, his words were spoken flawlessly,
His steady grin stood still,
He didn't turn away, as he often did when,
He was lying.

If they come between us.
I'll get us far from fear.
And safely distanced from harm.

Said those lovely rags hanging from a bed of hair.
I longed to hold between my thinning fingers.
Stashed at my waist.
Twisted by youth.
I held our real hope and yet.
Lamented its part in our lives.

We heard the trampling grow louder.
As his men drew closer.
I reached for song to distract us.
From fretted conclusion.

Matthew forced us down together.
Huddled beneath that cracked window.
Still more intact than ourselves.

Matthew loosened his grip with a sigh,
Those smallnesses regained strength
Freedom felt cool against released fingers,
Strangely wet and salty from his oiliness.
I didn't want to get up right away,
It felt good to just lay in his arms,
Breathing in spring air, secure in his warmth,
Listening to him breathe in discretly,
Like he didn't want to make any noise.
His black tunic was somewhat rough against my skin,
But it was better than staining my cloak with green,
Dandelions had conquered the entire field around us,
An old waterwheel slopped up water and dropped it back into a stream,
Gently easing away my cares, my senses were dulled,
Spring was here,
We were alone.

Above us clouds started to gather,
He didn't notice, his gaze was tilted away from me,
He wasn't enjoying this.
Whenever I moved I had broken a rule,
Mother's eyes wrinkled like that years ago,
Inside the few memories she left behind,
Father's greying black mane,
Always swallowed up his face,
obscuring it from view,
He was a giant when he came down to my world,
He was a grinning giant who couldn't swat a mosquito.
Mother did it for him.

His profession.
Blacksmith and poor at it,
Received naught but ridicule,
A novice's pupil they said,
Still his jokes were a commodity,
It kept him paid.
Poverty was there for us but,
Not for me.
He'd take mother and I to read,
Beneath an old apple tree,
The family's fourth relative,
To read an old storybook,
That changed each time.

A girl dressed in lace,
Green buds sewn into sleeves of emerald,
Gave the child queen scales she didn't wear.
It was a funny little ruse,
Placed with kindness.
Unlike the vines coiled around her insides,
Tightening around her legacy,
Implanted by a caring person,
She trusted to protect and serve.
Her trust was betrayed by agony,
Nights spent clutching onto the world,
Trying to hold on while,
Those seeds replaced her own.