Crown by Reality

Snow White: Into the Eeriness

The cold air fallen upon the place, was it just earlier that the sun warmth his clothes despite the cold bite prickled his skin? Yet, this place has a different kind of cold, the darkness welcomes him with a thick blanket surpassing the widespread of the night sky, a black canvas all across the inches without a light apart from the flickering light bulbs and the torched fire, even the fire in this place gave an air of cold magic. It seems this place never existed at all, no one lives in here was all he can ponder to think before swallowing his spit. The chilly cold bites, feeling it seeping through his coat then to straight in to the bones.

The Magische Kessel.

There was something unsettling about the place. No, he will have to retract that statement. This place he dares not compare to the white Kingdom with white pavements across the streets he walked through. At most, the place holds the other side of the Kingdom. He also came here for a purpose as someone who was once under the tutelage of a retired Knight, every single time he came alone felt he was a nomad in a strange lands forging in new places. He comes and the chilly air remains stagnant in the air, at times the strange magic touches his with all kinds, in all differences of icy cold or a plain warmth touching his skin. It was still afternoon, gladly the light it gave off didn’t seem to satisfy the eeriness of the streets. The air did not move, stillness existed for this place alone. No noice can be heard other than some scuffles here and there.

The sun did not reach this place even if the sun chose to rise up in this streets of magic, the sunlight would perhaps feel cold.

Then, behind him something made a noise. A clicking sound, it grew louder, a softer tone then it resonated to something more sinister, louder again with several clicks. Behind him wasn’t? The louder again and this time he fears for someone, or something the unknown it grows all the more frantic. He stands frozen in place, ready to sprint in action as his knuckles tightened as he readies himself to summon a ball of fire from his hand out from his coat.

Growing ever so frantic, why are they clicking against each other, why was it starting to click everywhere like some sort of mantra?

Then silence.

A gulp. He swallowed his spit, boldness and courage he needs now. Silent. Why was it now an echoing void of deafness? The kind of silence that never numbs his fear, the kind in which the silence lies in the unseen; a danger luring nearby ready to pounce at anytime, the least he will expect. It was the kind of silence that sends a shiver down his spine, in which he can feel his blood chilled his veins. Bravery or courage is the absence of fear, an inspiring teachings of his retired superior and the kind, wise words of a King.

Did he get it right? No? He just gone, escaped from that hellish place of a prison and this is the kind of treatment he deserves?

He scowls, it was not fair. Begrudgingly he accept, either he bows in the law and rules of reality, the life he lives in or be killed in the harsh realities of this world. Then again, what exactly a mortal do, strive to survive that was the answer he sought for himself.

With a shake of his head, he glanced around. Ah, the fogginess has settled down his feet. How great, what greatness he deserved to receive such an incredible honor, he sarcastically mused with a roll of his eyes. A bit of fear, the anxiety rolling in waves started to die down, sunken low with the captain on its ship. Good, good, still be wary ye’ old wee man, another aspect to humor himself as he steps in to the entrance of The Magische Kessel.

His footsteps, the sole of his leathered boots he claimed to lend from a passerby nearby echoes sharply around the deserted streets as if it were to say that it wouldn’t allow him the justice of sneaking around without a noise sounding overly loud across everyone’s ears and attention to peer in on what kind of stranger has step into their lands. It reminds of him a vivid imagery of memory just awhile ago, what seems to be a day or a year? He walks, entering in with a heartbeat of an innocent rebel condemned to a prison, judged him to a death sentence by feeding him to the lions.

As he comes approaching, half-way through the streets. The clicking sounds begins to reveal itself like the keys of pianos raging to the lower pitch to a much more high pitch. Oh, God... this must be some sick, twisted play of a fiddler’s demented pranks wouldn’t? He carefully, slowly he peered down to his leathered brown shoes, that’s where the clicking sounds came nearby, hesitantly he peers down only to see…

Spiders?

Scuttling… ticklish… was something… no, it did…!

When he looked at his hands, he saw hundreds of tiny spiders crawling over his arms to the palm of his hands. They were all black, tiny little monstrosities scuttling upwards, their tiny legs tickled his skin as they crawl and crawl in to the point he can feel the small critters of armies surging in through his neck.

He was stuck. Agron could not possibly contain his panic and he did what any normal human beings would do in this situation where spiders crawled in every inch of his skin.

Agron’s whole body burst into a huge flaming body as he sprints out to escape the critters in hopes they killed themselves in the heated flamed he conjured. With a shout rivalling an army waging a war between nations, his shouts echoed across the walls of the streets earning the attention of everyone’s ears that heard a man screaming profanities between cursing spiders and a quite a many who has an underlying suspicion of someone murdering someone leaving them in the edge of their seats.

That scream itself tore away the silence earlier, at the top of his lungs he screamed with the strength of his body, the remaining of what was left of his strength as well as the power. His right eye covered with a clean, neat ebony eyepatch clearly implied that along with his clear blue eyes grew wide with horror, in a maddening fray his moth has shortly gone a gape like a fish yet a human he was, his mouth becomes rigid and open spouting words his Mother would scold him greatly he will never hear the end of it. He was sure without a mirror, a reflection to see what he looked like. Agron can definitely see for himself that he looks so utterly ridiculous! He thanks the heavens he was blessed with a bronze skin glazed with olive tone that he did not resembled a light skin’s chalky gauntly features, growing all the more pale.

His head was on fire, literally but he kept on until his limbs gave out, the fire extinguished into nothingness. He ran without any sort of knowledge that he was increasingly faltering in his movements and in another count of ticking time came to tens of minutes. Panting, he catches up to his breath, his scarred hands down to his knees as he bends down tiredly, exhaustion almost taking him. Agron ran through the maze of antique shops, potion shops, winding himself to a random spot of a large shop in front of him. A much more mysterious, sinister house made of cobblestone, the cracks tainted with growing plant life giving it an old antique style from the ancient days.

Somnium miscendarum.

At the top of the door stands and hangs a worn-off sigh carved in wooden letters, almost an unreadable words, covered in vines that made it possible to read what the words wouldn’t be rendered useless to read. Somnium miscendarum… those were Latin right there, roughly translating it Brewing Dreams. Huh… Brewing Dreams. Another typical Witch’s shop?

Tension couldn’t describe what Snow White felt, no one speaks but she won’t account it to being an air so thickly brittle that suffocated every person in the room. What was there to say other than they waited for a timely response from her. Was she clouded with a conversation with the Obsidian Knife, her Tödlich Schönheit? Does her own thoughts consumed her of what was to come, having second thoughts or changing her decision?

What exactly does the Princess thinks?

Snow raised her head to meet their eyes that bore holes to her own, sensing their clashing ideas did she speak once again. A deep, intake of soft but a deep, deep breath to her lungs then out.

“I will have to make it known to every single of you that I have dreams, memories that suddenly flashes before me unannounced. Please ignore my bouts of silence that will occasionally occur. I usually thing over such things much deeper than I can anticipate.”

“As long the Knife does not caused you harm, I am sure it will do everything in its power to cater, to protect its wielder without a doubt. Be wary, be cautious, and most all stand firm,” Gothel warned her, emphasizing the weight she carried in her hands, the Obsidian Knife reflecting her old gray eyes. “Be exceptionally of your limits, your weakness will be not only touched on by your enemies in the near future but you also have yourself, a Royalty or Nobility or not at all, the most dangerous enemy you will encounter is none other than yourself. Do you understand, your Royal Highness?”

“I understand well, your words will not go unheard.” Snow nodded with a faint smile, in return the old witch smiled herself, a sense of relief washing over her. Good, that assurance takes it kindly to her old kindred soul.

“See to it that you must, the world is extremely unkind. A world of anguished pain, a desert of strangers with numerous intents. See to it still, that you will not take a blind eye to kindness and utmost respect, would you not?” Gothel added, closing the book, muttering a protective spell over them before placing her wrinkled, age-driven hands to cover the book with sturdy provided by the Spiders before giving it to Snow White, “And you boy,” she spared a stern eyes over to Hunter whose eyes flicked over to him. “your attitude, your character must be fixed before the Princess herself. I need not to explain now, would I not?”

With a nervous chuckle and a rub on his nape, he answers nonetheless.

“I will do my best, Lady Gothel.” Hunter tipped his hat before turning to face Rapunzel, giving his farewells. “To you, Lady Rapunzel.”

“I bid you farewell!” Rapunzel smiles, a grin growing from cheeks to cheek fitting her adorable character with a flair of shyness glowing a good luck charm over them.

Snow White and Hunter turned to face the door out, with a wave of goodbye they turned the doorknob and began to take their mission at hand.

… They were put to a wary step when they both heard a scream tore the silent streets.

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