Green Crow, blue crow, black and Indigo. Royalty or god, giant or troublemaker? Reality or fantasy? Green or blue? Thunder and mischief? Thunder or mischief. The brother always chosen first, even though the thunder was the worst. The one who was always meant to rule, however, forced to kneel by the mighty steel of sapphire flames in the blue square.
The prince with the emerald feathers held the frosted cold of winters runes, as night-lock waves as dark as the crows chest, blew with the wind of earth. Looking down on a broken planet reminded him of one thing. The shattered glass of a once sharpened blade laid to slumber in the beat of each rising breath covered behind moonlight skin. Emerald green behind gold ribbons. Frost cold temperatures covering the base of the rusty, gold, scepter as it rains down black lighting from the clouds, upon the home destined for further black from the outcast ‘’god of mischief.’’