S. Stormy

The Council of Three

 

A sunny day defies the approaching darkness.

She comes.

I watch from the window,

Gigantic wings beat the air.

Her head is adorned with dark horns

that curl in a deadly arc.

Her sword gleams in the fading light.

Clad in pink and black,

Murderous intent written on her face,

She is Star.

 

The nearby lamppost glows. 

Brighter

And brighter.

The light forms into a figure,

Who holds herself like someone 

Used to the people’s bows.

A simple golden circlet affirms this.

She wears a blue robe, accented by gold.

She holds an open book.

The pages blow in the wind,

Obscuring any information 

I’d hope to glean.

A mocking smile on her face,

Secrets in her hand,

She is Lunamor.

 

 

I have no name.

My face is forgettable.

And yet they bow to me;

I am not one to be crossed.

A crow nests

in my bland brown hair.

I set down the small sweet succulent

I hold in my hands,

And rest my hand on the window.

The two stand there, waiting.

“I believe you know why I've gathered you here.”

My tone is flat.

Monotone.

Star glares.

“I don’t, and I’m NOT happy about it.”

Lunamor is less blunt.

“I too, had to abandon things I loved

to be here.”

She is annoyed,

Beneath her calm mask.

My hand passes through the open window. 

I appear next to them.

“There is a purpose.”

 

“Which is?”

Star spits.

I turn towards her.

“Follow me, and you will know.”

Between one heartbeat and the next,

I am blown into the wind.

Lunamor shifts into

blue particles and drifts away

gracefully

on the wind.

Star glares for a moment,

Thinking of the fact 

she could just leave.

But she decides to follow,

And glitches out of sight

Leaving no trace of anything 

that happened on this 

dark, 

dark, 

night.