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[Covet]

I used to rule the world / seas would rise when I gave the word King of the Dale. King of the Tundra. Admiral of the Valley. General of the Chamber. Twice a king, twice a leader, always a warrior - these words, these titles, once made the man. Now? now in the morning I sleep alone / sweep the streets I used to roam Sage was dead, almost at his hands. Maybe at his hands. His hubris, his pride, his need to...to...Sage. Oh Sage. Others came and went, for different reasons and different emotions. Ashley, his adopted son, the first he loved. He mentored. He owned. And now? Dead. At his hands. Librette...oh Librette. He remembers her with the fondness of bitter enemies, his chest tight. Librette was a friend first and so much more second. Myrina, the latest, the newest, the richest. She awakened things in him he didn't understand or understand. Others? Vampyric, friend to the bitter end, was gone. I used to roll the dice / feel the fear in my enemy's eyes He remembers the Alliance, then. Twice a contender. All the wars, all the battles, the way his name would evoke nothing short of fear. Terror. He was a rapist, a murderer, a killer, the scourge of the earth. Banned from the Amazons, banned from the Dale - banned banned banned. He killed Coca-Cola for the throne, what did he expect? And Murphy - he killed her too. Craft? He hated her. Hatedhatedhated. but that was when I ruled the world Now his breath is labored and deep. The immortality is fading, it has been for the last two years. Since Thorunn fell from her mother and broke her neck it's been leeched day and day. His scars were like pockmarks instead of tattoos. He is short and graceless with orange eyes that are clouded with age. He knew this day would come. Then the cough started, and his old wounds re-opened, and his bones broke brittle and scarred in his limbs. He was dying. He was dead. for some reason I can't explain / I know St Peter won't call my name never an honest word / but that was when I ruled the world But could he reclaim his right? His hope? Could the gods of Beqanna overlook his atrocities and focus on the man? He wasn't so sure. He only cares for his children now, the lone remains of himself on this earthly plane. Even as the diseases take him - locking his gait, destroying his lungs, his nervous tissue, making him unable to eat. What will kill him first - starvation? Losing his ability to breathe? Defenseless, killed by animals? No, there is some mercy in Beqanna. It's on the beach. It's with his death. just a puppet on a lonely string / who would ever want to be king? The Old Warrior, The Pumpkin King, is welcomed with open arms. His steps onto the soft beach are unsteady, splinted...but the water eases the pain. Pain - what a strange sensation. It leaves his body, each step deeper into the water removing him from this world. When the water reaches his chest he is floating, being carried by the gentle current into the water. And then, now far from the shore, he bursts into flame. Welcome to Valhalla, Covet.

Here lies Covet, born November 2004 to Harmonia by Hallows Eve. He died of natural causes, most likely a mix of botulism, tetanus and rabies when his immortality decided to leave him.

[Librette]

Perhaps she is the first to find him, when he comes to the underworld. It might be immediate, or it might be years - time flows differently here.

She walks to him then, saying nothing, her brown eyes - ghosts's eyes - speaking emotions that her fragile, awkward mouth could never manage. She stops before him, her hawk's wings faded like an old photograph. She doesn't speak of their children; she doesn't worry for them, she's seen what Covet had given to them, more than she ever could. She doesn't speak of their past; it's all written right there, in the silence that hangs so heavily in the air between them. She doesn't speak of their future; she knows too well the endless time that speeds and crawls here in the land of the dead, and she wonders if he knows, or suspects, that truth.

She speaks, instead and only, of the present that hangs perfectly suspended between what was and what will be.

"Hello Covet." Her voice sounds prettier here, more dreamy, less grating. "You're looking...clean today."

[Myrina]

My dearest Covet,
I cherished each moment together. I will think of you each time I look at our children. I just wish you were able to meet our twins.

With love,
Myrina

[prague]

Dear Covet,


I always thought you would out live all of those from our time, who will I harbor a grudge for now? 


At least enemies are often truthful and you can count on them.


I'm sure I won't be far after and we can bicker and fight then.


Until then keep the coals warm.


-prague


(seriously, I'm pretty upset that I discovered this. I always loved reading him!)