Of Pride And Prattle

[Wretched 2075]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?t=10&v=KGD2N5hJ2e0

 

A weary-eyed elf sits amongst ruins with his head in his hands, grey hair matted by the downpour of rain. With a shaky hand he'd grip at the fingertips of his gloves, removing them to reveal the gnarled, crooked digits beneath. The elf caresses his brow with bony finger and thumb, massaging the visibly aging skin with strained visage, an air of trouble lingering about his person. With a huff he'd raise his gaze to observe his surroundings, peering about the decrepit rubble and tumbled walls in disinterest, pale lips pursing into a narrow point as he clasps his now bare hands together, rubbing them softly until his eyes wander to his right, catching sight of a flash of orange. The elf purposely turns away, for several feet away sits the wretched mask of Knox atop a crumbling stone podium, its carved features eyeing him.

 

 

"You are doubting me."

 

The elf sits in hesitant silence, eyelids scrunching up as he reaches for the jet-black gloves atop his lap, slowly sliding them back over quivering hands.

 

"You are doubting me."

 

The weary elf turns sharply to the lifeless pumpkin helm, gloved hands balling into tight fists by his sides as he clears his throat.

 

"Everything has... changed."

 

"Nothing has changed. Do not betray me now, I'm all you have."

 

"All I have... But not all I want."

 

"You were nothing before me. No living being even knows your name, all they see is Knox. Without me, you return to nothing."

 

The elf abruptly stands at this comment,  pacing over to the pumpkin helm to place his palm atop it, spinning it about on the podium so the carved facial expression faces away from him. With an exasperated sigh, he'd return to his seated position, gaze fixated onto the orange texture of the back of the mask.

 

"I have done so much for us. Do you not see, everything we worked for is falling into place.

 

"Everything /you/ worked for."

 

"We are indifferent, but you owe me everything. Without me, you would have not only failed, but surely died. Look around you - people idolise you, some even worship you as a God. All this, and still you are unsatisfied."

 

"And did I ask for any of it? The weight of meaningless deaths is heavy and I grow weak under it."

 

"Since when did you care about something as trivial as death. We both know that isn't the reason we are having this conversation. You can lie to all but me."

 

"But those I truly cared for. You took the ones I love from me."

 

"And I would do it again. They made you weak and predictable. In our line of work, those sort of attachments will only end badly for all involved. I'm the only one you need."

 

The elf reaches over with a spindly arm, hooking his wiry fingers into the eyeholes of the pumpkin mask to pull it towards him, planting it down on his lap, its eternally smiling expression facing upward into a pair of watering eyes.

 

"For too long have I allowed the mask to become the identity. Perhaps it is time I rectify that."

 

"The man behind the mask died a very long time ago, and you let him. That man is a distant, insignificant memory. There is a reason why you use my name instead of yours."

 

The tiring elf pushes himself to his feet, holding the pumpkin helm under his arm as he begins to pace gradually out from the ruins, a small skeletal rabbit trailing him by his feet, its bones charred black. The elf peers down to the undead creature, patting it gently on the head before continuing on his absentminded wandering, the rain as persistent as ever, although no bother to the elf.

 

"Put it on."

 

The elf decides to seemingly ignore the statement, blinking the rain water from his eyes as he glances upward to the darkened skies above, no indication that the rain should soon cease.

 

"I think I'll leave it off a while. I don't need you right now."

 

"It's words like that, that will see to our downfall. Put it on. Now."

 

The elf reaches a shoreline, the darkness of the rainy night illuminated across the expanse of water before him - a city, or town, no doubt, only a short distance away.

 

"We are going to disappear for a while. There is too much going on, I am aware that we have... Gotten too close to people. For a time, we will leave them be. Hear this, Knox, for this is no request. They have earned their peace."

 

For a time, the elf stands in silence, gaze still cast over to the faint glow of city life in the distance. For a few moments he'd glance down to the helm, exhaling a soft breath as he runs his thumb across the mask's forehead in an almost loving manner, before slowly raising it above his head. With eyelids gently closing, he'd lower the pumpkin onto his head, eyes instantly alive with a soft red glow as the moonlit shadow of his frame flickers and distorts, the skeletal rabbit by his feet peering up curiously. Knox would crouch to the rabbit, peering into its eyeless sockets.

 

"So be it."

 

With that, Knox would turn away from the shore, pacing slowly back into the shroud of night in solemn silence.

 

[Ford 1996]

Archibald ponders. "I ate a pumpkin pie today."

[Hanrahan 2983]

All has been revealed..

[SpiltMemes 368]

"Where is he?" Muttered Arelin. Gazing off the shoreline where the boats have landed shore years before.

"Maybe he didn't set sail?" She frowned in thought to herself. Tapping her chin idly.

[Birdnerdy 1539]

Ecthallion shivers as he remembers his visits from the Man in the Mask. 

[Jygg 330]

Durza still awaits his third visit from Knox "Where the Nether are you, Knox?"

[Wrynn 1349]

Poe sits at the stump of a tree, tilting his head at the blades of grass that lay beside his feet, watching them ever so curiously as he runs the length of his fingertips inbetween them. 

 

He totters the teeth in his mouth, pushing his lips over one another as he he thinks to himself. Playing about with the ambient sounds that creak around him, letting his mind weave.

 

"I wonder if it I destined for Poe's family to achromatize ... just like his eyes." 

[The Fact Core 511]

Knox is the green goblin.))

[Dohvi 622]

Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.