Asu's Pitiful Book of Words

[Deleted]

Hehehe feel free to use them to your pleasure and entertainment, Asu~ <3

[Deleted]

:U

//throws all her characters here.

You have fun now, you! <3

[Deleted]

For all you HetaQuesters out there... erm yeah I was just exploring the world a bit.

SPOILER: Click to show

{The White Lily}

She left his world shaken and stirred. He wasn't entirely like his father in that his father reacted with rage and anger. Maybe it was somewhat fortune that he lost his mother at a young age. He was only able to react with sorrow, frustration, and disbelief.

Vash Alois Zwingli grew up with a set of beliefs that he found unquestionable. It kept him grounded. He was always certain of those beliefs, those indoctrined facts. He knew them as truth and truth alone. In particular, there were two statements that laid down the whole groundwork.

Magic was to be hated.

She broke that rule the moment a blast of the accursed magic was emitted. He never hated his younger sister. He doted upon her in his own small ways. Lili was a pure, innocent young girl who loved to help the gardener in her mother's garden, even if she was told that it wasn't okay to get dirty. She was the one who loved twirling in the flowers and embroidering with mother in the parlor. The one that mother absolutely adored. Magic was an evil art that causes destruction and kills. It is an unjust upperhand and it must be kept away for the good of the people. Magic was an art brought by an evil force to overpower the good... Lili and magic were incompatible to Vash. And the fact that both killed their mother... Magic killed Lili that day.

He was supposed to marry Lili Adelaide Zwingli one day.

In the proud Zwingli tradition, the blood of Zwinglis is untainted and must stay as so. They hold much pride and have been picky with how they married into other noble families. They are able to brag having blood ties to the royal family in Uttara. Though they do marry into other noble families, the pride of Zwingli has consummated into the ultimate method of maintaining purity: Marriage within family. This tradition has occurred in several generations of Zwinglis. Cousin has married cousin, sister married brother. In fact, Oliver Tobias Zwingli did not lose just a wife and lover that day. Maria Viola Zwingli left her brother. Vash himself lot a sister and betrothed. That day, his betrothal to Lili was broken.

He thought over and over. Was he to hate his sister or was he not to? Was he still to love his sister with all his heart, or would he give up that love? Was he to give up? The two pillars he was built upon crashed down.

Perhaps she freed him that day she killed their mother. She killed more than just her mother. She killed the unborn sibling. She killed the kindness that was once in her father's heart. And she killed Vash's ability to trust.

She was pure and magic was tainting. She was perfect and she was his bride, but she killed mother. She was to marry him when she turned the pretty age of 19, as in the tradition of the noble families of Ionad. She ran off. She was to be the mother of his children. She was a murderer, and she was perfect and she was... who is she?

He knew who she was. She was born three years after him. Her birth was one to be rejoiced. It was decided when she was two years old that they would be married on her 19th birthday, as her parents had. The two were groomed to be the perfect husband and wife, and they never seemed to question anything because it was natural to them. Lili was to be Lady Zwingli, blood of the Blackbird, Protector of the White Lily. Lili Adelaide Zwingli was dead, but the concept of her did not die easily. The girl was gone, but she remained.

Lord Zwingli attempted to obliterate her from his son's mind and grew much, much colder of a person. He attempted to find another girl to be betrothed to Vash, but the coldness in Vash's eyes overshadowed the charm he once had. It was succesful for him to find a betrothed, given the Zwingli name and the rarity of marrying into the powerful family. However, the connection between the engaged party had no warmth. And it was only a misery for both of them, one that was relieved when the girl was promised to a noble in Uttara.

He was freed by his sister.

He would no longer marry her.

He questioned how evil magic was.

He simply was painfully reminded of these things every year on her birthday.

[Misso Pan]

gdi asu

[Vash Alois Zwingli]

Misso please click here before you click the spoiler below, you won't regret it. It goes with your present.

SPOILER: Click to show

{A Late Birthday Present for Misso - Apple of My Eye}

"The heart is a bloom."

The heart is a flower, meant to be nurtured for it to become the most beautiful that it could be. She was his lone Alpine rose, meant to be protected from all dangers, meant to be kept from the world. It was a bit of a selfish desire, really, to shield her away from the world with his barbed wire and bullet-proof barricade. But wasn't everyone a bit selfish? In this, he had built a holy image of her, built her into his Eve. He would do everything to protect his paradise. He always thought of her as obedient and content, never wanting to leave Eden. Why would Eve wish to leave Eden?

Call it sin, but she was a sinner. Eve would be tempted by curiosity and knowledge, a temptation worth taking. She would want to eat the golden apple of chaos, the apple meant for the fairest of goddesses. She would take a bite out of that apple, an apple that he would offer unknowingly offer to her. She was the fairest to him, as he was yet to define who to give such a fruit. A single bite and everything changed. A single bite, and she enjoyed the taste of knowledge and the outside world, of saints and sinners, of fire and ice. She was addicted and there would be no fighting it.

"Shoots up through the stony ground. There's no room. No space to rent in this town."

She would fight her way through the stony ground. She couldn't stay in that flower shop forever, couldn't be waiting on her brother forever. She wasn't the delicate rose bud she was before. The delicate rose bud has bloomed into the rose with thorns. She could protect herself in this desert place, she was sure of this. She simply had to find her way through her brother's barbed wire without destroying herself or her brother. It wasn't always easy, though. She was going against his current, going against the natural order. But it was justified. Entropy would have to rule eventually, and he simply fed into entropy with the amount of order he wanted.

She needed someone. Anyone. She was alone and she was the kind of person that was meant to be surrounded by people. Her grace attracted people. She was a beacon of light meant to be followed. And she kept searching, kept walking forward, even as he unintentionally pushed her back. It was sad that he didn't realize just how much he would push her back. She takes one step forward, he takes two steps back. It was a bit of a lonely, repressive regime that ruled even himself.

"You're out of luck. And the reason that you had to care. The traffic is stuck. And you're not moving anywhere."

Some days, it was a bit of an unreasonable amount of worry. She journeyed to seek milk and honey, and all he did was call back. She seeked a way out of the desert place when she could have just turned around and tried to get back into Eden before the flames would bar her way, but she couldn't turn around. Not with all of the new sights she was seeing, the new experiences, the feel of new words heavy upon her tongue, of souls she could hold in her arms. She took the first steps towards everything with a bit of shakiness, but every step became more and more confident until she could stand on her own.

The only one not moving was her brother, and she couldn't help but wonder what stopped him.

"You thought you'd found a friend. To take you out of this place. Someone you could lend a hand. In return for grace."

She stumbled and he watched her fall. He came to her aid and banished the perpetrator who took her grace. She was grateful for a while, back in Eden and in safety, but she couldn't help but feel it was all wrong. His grip on her only tightened with fear that another would come and steal her away. He forgot how much it hurt her every time he had to do such things to protect her.

The soldier came home with battle scars from places she couldn't imagine him ever being in. Places she wouldn't want to believe, places she would never want to see. She wanted to seek comfort, to seek a companion to accompany her back out into the desert to do him justice. Perhaps he wouldn't worry so much if she had a companion to protect her and show her the world. A companion to give her what she wanted and needed, to climb up into the trees of knowledge and toss her down the fruits.

She found him. He found her. And they would embark for the Promised Land.

"It's a beautiful day. Sky falls, you feel like it's a beautiful day. Don't let it get away."

The pursued each other like children playing tag, laughing and rolling down the hills together. The clouds were going away one by one, her smile becoming much more radiant as she helped drag him out of his own personal darkness. Her halo of golden hair tangled in his fingers, her arms lacing around his neck. It was a beautiful friendship, and an even more beautiful romance.

Her brother would find out, but they took their revolution. She wasn't going to be pushed back any longer. She wanted to snap her brother out of his perfect image of her, to strip Eve of her graces and show that she was also capable of sin. She needed to show that no amount of protection would have changed anything. A little bit of corruption was simply part of life, and she wouldn't be the worst offender. But to her brother... this was original sin, damnation for all to come. If she couldn't be pure, no one could. She crumbled his world and that was that.

"You're on the road, but you've got no destination. You're in the mud in the maze of her imagination."

He simply was incapable of changing the track of his mind. He had once known how to love a love so great, only to have it taken away from him in the blink of an eye. Did he want her to feel that? To feel as if he had been given the kingdom, only to have it taken away. He had hardened himself, unable to see past his lone castle walls. He wouldn't open the curtains or unbar the doors. He couldn't bear to see that she shined much more brightly in the sun.

Every saint has a past and every sinner a future.  He tried to find faults in her companion. The lad wasn't always a good man. His vices were tainting, his sins were many. But he was only human. He had his virtues, but Vash was too blinded by bitterness to see them. Do you know what bitterness is? It is like drinking a vial of poison and expecting someone else to die. He was slowly killing himself, and she couldn't help but feel guilty, but he wasn't to be helped. Those who wouldn't accept help can't be helped.

"Touch me, take me to that other place. Teach me, I know I'm not a hopeless case."

Her brother's defenses started to crumble, little by little. Her silent revolution was undeniable. She was a saving grace and she kept going. She found that it was her duty to reconcile her companion with his past, and to reconcile her brother with his past. His secrets fell, he lost face. The gods fell, and when they fell, they never fell gently. They went out with a bang.

The men in her life were simply unable to look towards the future, and she would have to lead them to their Promised Land.

"What you don't have you don't need it now. What you don't know you can feel it somehow."

"Did Aoife have to threaten you to make you agree?"

"It wasn't necessary."

"Then why did you—"

"Do you think that I need much of a reason now?"

"What a beautiful day."

She smiled as she walked towards the land of milk and honey, up the steps of the alter. The sun need not set on her empire. This was the way it was supposed to be. She looked at her protector, who smiled at her, his fingers intertwined with someone he was finally able to love. She looked at her companion, her lover, her partner, and her eternity.

"I am the luckiest man in the world to live to see this day."

[Vash Alois Zwingli]

This is the first chapter/thingy of my NaNoWriMo.

SPOILER: Click to show

{Trigger}

What a dangerous weapon you're carrying there.

A marvelously dangerous weapon of mass destruction. Of mass creation. Of self-entitlement, so difficult of a weapon to control, so malleable, so corruptible, so pure. A pity you don't know the potential of such a weapon. The most dangerous of people arm themselves and play their games, believing they are in control, but even they fail to see just how far down the rabbit hole goes.

Perhaps it is a good thing that they can't see what lies down there. Some would say there's a paradise down there, a wonderland where you are in control. Others say it's abysmal, a place as grim as the destructive nature of the human spirit itself, a place where you are also in control. You have to wonder, though, are you really in control here?

Do you really control your mind, or are you simply a puppet on a lone string?

Would you be the same person if you hadn't took part in some of the events of your life? Would you be a different person if you simply forgot those events? If you are a million different people from one day to the next, you can't help but wonder how things would have gone different if you had made a different decision. Oh the wonders of the mind, to try and explore different paths and seek different answers! It is simply a shame to see just how restrained by reality the mind is.

It is in our nature to fight what restrains us.

It is in our nature to question, fight, and manipulate reality.

We change our realities. We conquer our environments and don't allow our environments to conquer us.

But it is a shame we let our minds conquer us, that we let the past we stored in our minds to define us and to destroy us.

No matter the angle, the gun is pointed at you.

[Deleted]

AAHHHHHHHHHHH

Oh my god asu ;w; that's really great!!!! <333 I love it so far hehehe

[Asunara Wisdom]

Please please please kill Amy and me. This hurts.

SPOILER: Click to show

{Sell Your Freedoms} She was known as a sweet girl, but in truth, she had become bitter, corrupted, dead. She was unable to hold onto the world she wanted. She kept herself in the fantasy world she built for herself. A world where Iain was never frustrated, a sweet older brother who regularly sewed her sheep plushies. A world where AOife was the sister she could always confide in, where Finny boy never ran away, where Arthur got better with her best efforts and they were a family, happy, even if a little broken.

But she acknowledged the truth, even if it was somewhat rudimentary in how she did. She wasn't the kind of perosn you would expect to take up such a trade, but at the same time, she was the perfect person to do so. She made herself known as a true neutral as a broker, a fairness that took no sides. It probably began when she was younger, when she know how to play off her sibling's fights in her own small ways. She found lying about certain things would calm things down. That fabricating information sometimes was the best way to peace, that the truth could choose the winning side. Of course, her approach today was different.

Of course, she never believed that she deserved the places that she dwelled in. Call it the idea of holiness. But how holy was she, selling information on her siblings? Of course she HAD some conscience and didn't sell them out when she judged that it wouldn't be in her favor, but even that was a fuzzy line. Sometimes it was the subconscious desire to punish those that broke her world that drove her to sell. The only clearly defined bound was to never sell anything regarding Arthur. Never would she sell a word on him. He did no harm in her world, she believed.

She found the easiest way to a man's secrets were through his heart. She established herself as a goody (or as good as an actress could be considered) in the world of the stage and the backstage, but she was careful. She let the aphrodisiac in her kiss and a smooth legato from her soprano voice slowly draw the hallelujah out of them. They would forget and she would have their secrets. If only she didn't have the weight of remembering and the occassional genuine feelings.

Regret is something she had become bed fellows with. Maybe she took after Estelle in this respect. She considered the French woman one of her closest friends, perhaps because Estelle had given her the power to win the chess game. Maybe it was her sympathy for the underdogs that was her downhall. Or her desire for just a bit of revenge for the people who took away her perfect world with their selfishness (though it was perhaps selfish of her to expect perfection from something so fragmented). But she fell from grace and there was no climbing up again.

Seamus had come to her on his knees, begging for absolution. Had she known what his absolution was... she had not forseen that she would be on her knees and murmuring a secondhand solliloquy to the heavens. She wanted the underdog to get a taste of victory, the sinner a piece of salvation, the lost lover a last word with the bride before she would be given away.

He had been plagued, as she was told, with drunken sadness as he watched life go by. He watched Donald and Lili's wedding from the shadows, watched as the two of them made a family and built a normal life together. A life that he couldn't have. He seethed with jealousy and turned around to go pursue a path he thought would get him such a life, but even she was gone. Aoife had found her own happiness. He continued waiting and wasting away, wary-eyed as her belly billowed like sails and bore Vash a daughter.

If only it was my own child.

He found more fault when she had accepted the proposal. Around that time, he began to plot. He had considered murdering Vash, but rationalized that would only leave her in melancholy. Not his intention. Same with taking he child and threatening to end her life if Aoife wasn't his. And so he found his plan.

Oh my dear, how I love and hate you so. But forever is how long I will be with you.

She sold him the information. When the night before the wedding was, where the couple would be, when they would be separated for the evening, even her dress colour... It was a plea to reconcile his past. And perhaps she wanted something to happen to her sister. Maybe she thought it wasn't fair for her sister to be so happy, yet she herself hasn't reconciled. She murdered her sister without remorse and she didn't know just how much she meant it.

Aoife Saoirse O'Neill was murdered the night before her wedding. She was put in bed, two hearts painted on the covers in her blood. He climbed into bed and closed her eyes, the traces of her last thought etched in them. He wasn't quite comfortable knowing what that last thought was. He shot himself in the temple and there was no pain. Only the pleasure of feeling Miss Aoife's bare body embraced in his.

Together forever.

Lea had watched.

Cerys sold her freedoms and kept to herself what she knew. She would punish herself in time and quietly wait as the loneliness ate away at her.

The church pews were empty. She felt the coldness of the cathedral upon her. She turned around, looking at the aisle Aoife would have walked down. Cerys walked the opposite direction, upon the aisle and through the church doors, disappearing into the night. There was a show at the cabaret tonight, and the show must go on.

SPOILER: Click to show

{Broken Hearts, Broken Spirits} Once upon a time, he knew what he wanted. His future was very clear-cut, bright as a diamond, and the blue box was in the drawer, a choice he could make at any time. He just never worked up the courage to ask the question he knew the answer to. She was his golden apple, and she was the fairest of them all.

And she was unobtainable.

They lived together for two years, and he waited much too long. Miss Amelia Brownell Jones never became Mrs. Amelia Zwingli. He lost momentum and was dragged into duty against his will. He was bitter and that was that.

Then he found what he wanted. He perhaps would have been much faster had he not had bitterness and denial as his mistresses. He never learned from his mistakes. She took the form of the fiery Aoife Saoirse O'Neill, whose demeanor was a far cry from his dear Amelia. She was simply a colleague, an ally, trustable. Maybe that was the chink in the wall. Vash could trust no one, and she somehow earned that trust.

Their relationship was much more long-term. Fitting, given the circumstances. Along the way, there was a little bump in the road with the conception and birth of their daughter, a beauty by the name Lea Ailis O'Neill-Zwingli, who was unlike her mother with her feminine tendencies and unlike her father in how easily she threw her trust around. She had her mother's bravery (and admittedly, her badassery later on) and her father's worrisome disposition. They lived as a little family, and Vash, being the slow one he was, was not pushed into asking the question until Aoife had caught he bouquet at Lili's wedding (though technically, Peter caught it first and threw it again)

Cerys and Lili had gotten right to wedding planning, the bride rolling her eyes as the two of them "ooh'd" and "ahh'd" at colour swatches and dress designs. There was always Donald in the corner who kept sneering "It's about time" every time Vash was in the general area. Lea was to be the flower girl, Elliot the ring bearer.

That was, until he came home the night befor ehte wedding to find Aoife in bed with the bare body of a blue-eyed Irishman, her arms embracing his cold deadness. The bed was bloody, and not a breath passed through either of their bodies. Miss Aoife Saoirse O'Neill was most certainly dead, and her daughter had witnessed the vile deed.

Maybe it was the shock, but what was done was done.

Seamus had obviously committed the atrocity and there was no one left to take out his anger. Vash lost and his passions and exaltations were not enough. He lost strength and neglected Lea, failing to console his daughter, the sole witness of such an event. Lea was left to Lili as he fell into himself and wondered why things like this happened. Why his first loved failed with even his best efforts and his second taken away in such a manner. He didn't bother anymore. It was lucky Lili and her small family often took Lea in. If she didn't have at least that, who knows which path she would have repeated. Donald was her protection from the road he went down.

Vash sat at the top of a building, legs over the edge, but no intention to jump. He couldn't find worth in even that. Beside him was Miss Amelia Brownell Jones. There was a passion absent in both of their eyes, a perpetual silence that permeated their worlds. It wasn't going to be better and there would be no going back to how it was before. It was simply a mutual feeling at looking back at what was left. She put her head on his shoulder, but it was no gesture of affection or re-found intimacy. She was weary and wanted rest. He didn't protest. He put his arm around her shoulders, as if needing support to continue walking.

"I suppose we've made it full circle."

And then there was silence.

[Deleted]

I don't know why I thought this was a good idea.

Please pretend that this is the way Prime Ministers are inducted because I have no idea how this works and I wanted to use creative freedom. It's in the future anyways.

SPOILER: Click to show

{Tomorrow Never Dies}
"...We are living in a victorious age. An age of discovery and innovation, an age of agreement and peace. The man is ushering in a new era. The Labour Party is sure to do good for this United Kingdom of Brits. Welcome to the new age. We will be talking about the beginnings of..."

The drawl of the radio on the dresser filled the room with words of praise. Several ties were displayed in his closet cabinet, several suits spread across the bedspread. He had chosen his lucky boxer briefs, but that was all he had figured out. Much of the house was cleaned, traces of the man hastily paced into boxes for the move, though much of the furniture was left for his cousin's nanny to use. Lucille was certain to appreciate the bigger living space in a prestigious neighborhood.

He chose himself a green tie to match his emerald green eyes. The grey suit, black trench coat, and walking cane suited him handsomely, giving him a sense of authority, a sense he has most rightfully earned.

He was going to rise to his glory today, to realize his destiny. He had fought long and hard, gained and lost allies, spoke with the strongest conviction as seas rose as he gave the word. This would be his kingdom. His beloved people loved and adored him. They would part themselves for him, respect him, some almost worshiping him. He would rule with a fair overtone, do all the things as he promised, and maybe attract someone. He was considered one of Britain's most eligible bachelor's second only to British royalty's princes themselves. Of course, he would be firmly married to his work with all the projects he would like to complete.

"Arthur, you look so stiff in that!" a young voice whined.

"Peter, you don't go around saying that, even if he looks kinda stiff," Lucille said as she entered the room in a solid black cocktail dress, complimented with aquamarine jewelry (a gift for her services by Arthur for her bravery; what danger this young woman faced in her work daily).

"Mister Kirkland, aren't you looking sharp today. I answered some messages for you. Seems Queen Joselle will be sending a gift basket to your new residence. We will be picked up soon as well. You have your vest on?" Lucille asked.

"You flatter me. Of course I have it on," he said as the honk of a horn beckoned the trio outside.

"Peter, please stop fussing with your tie," Lucille scolded as she urged Peter into the black limousine. Arthur straightened his own tie. Inside the limousine sat the Q and the M, his older brother Iain and his mother.

"You've done good, son, you've done good," his mother said, smiling at the discomfort in her son's face that stemmed from the fact that the his family was here to share this moment. Maybe it was part in due to the shock of seeing his mother again. She rarely saw her son or step children anymore, given the secrecy of her work. Iain was surprised that his stepmother was the M, but had since become closer to her through work, growing a respect for his stepmother and coming to understand how and why Arthur's mother is the wife his father dares not be unfaithful to. She found herself trusting Iain very much, only second to her own natural born son. She couldn't help but feel somewhat wary when it came to her older stepdaughter, though it was Miss Lewis who took care of her son as a sick lad. Perhaps weariness stemmed from the fact Cerys was not an MI6 member. She couldn't say what the feeling was.

"Why are you and Iain here?" Arthur asked. It was amusing how Arthur was out of the loop from what seemed to be quickly becoming the Kirkland trade.

"Merely business fer ya," Iain said as the limo drove the crowded streets of London, the crowds waving their Union Jacks and chanting the name of Kirkland.

"This is your world to rule, your people to lead to a golden age," he thought to himself.

The limo stopped in front of Parliament, a stage in front of the building. There was a crowd gathered, cheering and unruly in their seats. There were security guards stationed everywhere, ready to shoot down anyone who dared lay a hand on the Prime Minister. If any nationalists groups dared come, security would shoot them all the same. Scots, Welsh, and Irishmen would go down if they declared independence. Liberation and anarchist groups were to be locked up and ruled with an iron fist.

A security guard opened the limousine door. Lucille and Peter were escorted out the back door, to be seated in the front row. Arthur exited the car with elegance, his mother and half-brother flanking hi. On-stage stood Queen Joselle and her husband, King George and the current prime minister, ready to swear Arthur in. The chants of the crowd called him King Arthur, Excalibur of the Kingdom United.

He heard the lull of a voice, a lovely voice that only seemed lovelier today. She sang of the salvation of the Queen, her voice almost inciting Arthur to immediate action to go save the British Isles instead of go through this ceremony.

"I will, dear sister, I will," he thought as he made his way towards the stage.

As he reached the bottom step, he felt a sense of nervousness set in. How long did it take to reach this step? He had his studies and his days of sorrow. He gained and lost, regained and relost. He won and rejoiced. He found himself losing and losing again, but he fought. He wasn't helpless anymore. He was not going to show weakness. He was going to overcome.

He climbed the steps, Cerys ending the national anthem with a sense of regality. He was looking below the sea of people for the first time. He was looking down.

"I'm not with the people as I once promised," he thought. He walked up to the podium, as if he was ascending the steps of heaven towards a perpetual holy throne to begin eternal rule of the kingdom everlasting. He knew he would descend those steps a changed man. He cleared his throat, and the world held its breath.

"You may be wondering why I have gathered all of you today. You have come here today to witness the swearing in of Arthur William Kirkland, yes?"

Pause.

"No. You haven't," he said with a somewhat tired smile.

Pause.

"Instead, you are to witness something much more monumental. Much more important than a man like Arthur Kirkland being sworn in. What you are about to witness... is a marriage — the marriage of a common man to the beautiful goddess Britannia, who she had chosen to carry out duty. He reveres Britannia and has agreed to be her caretaker for as long as he is allowed," he said, looking towards Donald and his wife Lili in the front row. Donald had arms around his wife's and daughter's shoulders. Donald smiled with a pride Arthur has never seen.

"You will watch as the Excalibur ushers in a new era, an era some say will be of prosperity and dignity, of greatness and restoration, an era where we grow as a family as we make peace and define ourselves as the British people. No longer will be a washed-up, former empire, believing the glory is with the past. The glory, my countrymen, is with the future," he said, smiling at Aoife and her can-you-two-get-married-already boyfriend Vash. She glowed beyond what her late-pregnancy glow already gave her. She wasn't looking down at him like he was a weakling anymore. She was proud that he climbed so far.

"I, Arthur William Kirkland, do solemnly sw—"

A bang was heard from the distance. There were wide-eyed stares, shrieks from those who couldn't restrain themselves. After a minute, there were sobs. Sobs of sorrow.

What a shame, this golden era ending so soon.

The bullet had struck him straight in the heart, the shooter hitting perfectly. He was gripping onto the podium for support.

"Do not worry, 'tis a scratch. Though, I have to say, this experience is a bit character building. Talk to me tomorrow, and you'll find me a more serious, grave man. I do solemnly swear to pro-protect the int—" he said as he fell. He felt the wound, felt as the pain bloomed like a red, red rose. He felt the lightning and thunder, the darkness and cold.

"This is how the world ends," a voice seemed to say from nowhere. He looked behind him, to see how the Queen reacted. It wasn't polite to collapse like this in front of the Queen. She was smiling widely, her eyes the size of moons. The King had the exact same expression, the prime minister smirking. The parliament building seemed to have been painted a nice shade of black, the sky red, cloudless. Everything was black and red, black and red. Donald and Iain and Cerys and Aoife... all the world was left with mother. A white glow in the distance, all the way across the sea. He pressed his hand to the bullet wound and would brave his way... mother... mother... mother... why were the people pushing him back, their Excalibur and hope? He felt as if he was drowning, either in the people or his own blood and breath. He reached his hand out, as if to grab onto that light...

---

His hands were gripped tightly, as if he were caught from falling off a cliff, yet he still hadn't been pulled up. There was the feeling that he would never be pulled up, that they would have to tire eventually and accept he was going to fall and he was going to fall far. There were tears in their eyes and a silence in their hearts.

"Why didn't we pull him out of this sooner? We subjected ourselves to this... this..."

"You know he fought and wouldn't have wanted to give up like that... he wanted the chance to fight, and giving up on him would have..."

"We were selfish and we just wanted a small hope," he voice ended the discussion simply. They all knew it was true.

They were resigned to the facts. Arthur felt as if he were looking at this from elsewhere. He saw them gathered around him, younger likenesses of his siblings. Iain was without his permanent scowl and lab coat, Cerys without as much of a twisted depth in her eyes and a much simpler outfit than at the inauguration. Donald was without weight on his mind and wedding ring on his finger. Aoife was neither with child or with secrecy... and his father and mother were in the room together.

Has Aoife given birth or Iain found a hobby or something?

He was caked in his own body and he felt a pull away, a man with golden eyes gripping his hand.

"You have lived tow lifetimes and I mean to grant you rest. You will be glad to know your family did not suffer such fabricated fates," the golden-eyed one said as Arthur was freed. Arthur wished to reply, but the words weren't allowed to manifest in his mind.

"I may be breaking a rule or two, but I think you deserve some peace. Some souls never could have answered the questions made in their own heads in life, and so wander the Earth still and never find their answers. If you kept living in your timeline, you know what would have happened to everyone later on, yes?"

I do?

"...yes," Arthur replied.

"You know how Kasem, a high-ranking White Lotus member you have never met in that timeline, would end his and others lives."

"He would end Yao Xun Wang's life slowly and take Im Yong Soo's and his own lives atop a building."

"Correct. And you know who Iain eventually marries, the names of Donald's two other children, how Cerys unwittingly is a catalyst for Aoife's death, who Aoife's daughter would grow up to be..."

He was wide-eyed, struck with the fact that he did know.

"Iain... Iain marries a mafia boss and is estranged from the family. Donald has two more sons named Tyler and Oliver. Cerys sells to Seamus and he kills Aoife the night before her wedding, and Lea... poor Lea... Lea..."

"I believe I have proved my point."

"They would have all fragmented and I would remain Britain's most eligible bachelor as a single prime minister. But the assassination attempt?"

"Was never supposed to happen, but the other timeline interfered."

"I believe you lost me there."

"I will give you only truth. THe definition of reality is subject to perspective, in all honesty. Are you certain you wish for the truth?"

Arthur nodded, somewhat unable to fathom what the gold-eyed man was trying to say.

"Arthur William Kirkland is lying not outside, bleeding on Parliament grounds, but in a hospital bed, not bleeding. He has been lying there for a while, and life went on. He has been suffering for a long time, unfortunately. Iain is currently completing a doctorate. Cerys babysits as a side job to help pay for Iain's tuition and some hospital bills, but she takes joy in that work and sings weekends at the cafe and is working on a novel to keep herself busy. Donald never ran away or joined a gang, he has a bright future as an actor. His top-notch smile and ginger hair are wooing ladies everywhere. It seems Brits really like gingers. Then there is Aoife, who you wouldn't have expected, who will be marrying her on-off boyfriend Seamus, who is quite the catch with his vast family fortune in Ireland. They had met via Donald. Quite a sweet boy, really. They're going to Seychelles for their honeymoon."

Arthur wasn't so sure he caught onto most of that. What was... what was the point of all of that, then? This... working to the top? He felt sick to his stomach that all of it... but he had to accept it if this was his fate. There was nothing else he could do, and fighting it would only make accepting it more difficult. This was how he dealt with knowing the end was near, and he had to face it eventually. No more running away into that... that world he built, that he so loved and treasured. The London where tomorrow never dies.

It isn't the point that mattered. It was the fact that you found a way to stay alive.

"What happens now that I concede to the fact that I never... that I've been dying every day?"

"We can go home now, Arthur. Peter will be very excited to see you."

"Take me there, then."

"Gladly," he said, lifting the soul into his arms and not looking back at the reality behind him.

SPOILER: Click to show

{Some Notes - Don't Click Until You Read The Above}
- The "reality world" presented is of course, the reality and you know where the world conjured by Arthur's mind was.
- As for fates in the real and fantasy world, here:
- Iain marries mafia boss in the mindscape, Iain is studying to be a doctor in the reality and is not affiliated with MI6, and he hasn't met a mafia boss in his life, not even of the French variety.
- Cerys betrays her sister in the mindscape and is a broker, Cerys is just an average girl in the reality, not as famous as in the mindscape, but equally cares for her family and doesn't bear the twisted grudges she had.
- Donald joined a gang in his youth in the mindscape and became an agent eventually, Donald is a cutesy Irish boy in reality and is quite a good actor Maybe the next Rupert Grint or the next actor for the Doctor at this point and never joined the gang. He simply knows Seamus because of his broadcast work.
- Aoife investigated and found her brother in her youth in the mindscape and became an agent and a relationship with a coworker sprung up. In reality, she is still kinda kickass and I believe she would have been a great athlete ooh tennis. And it's obvious you see her with Seamus here.
- Arthur got better in the mindscape. He didn't in reality and was in a coma.
- The reason why Peter wasn't mentioned in reality and is mentioned at the end is... we can make our own stories. Peter was perhaps a cousin in Arthur's youth that would be just a tad bit younger than Arthur had he lived. He dies at the age of 12 in a fatal car accident, but in Arthur's reality, he is still alive, but would have suffered the same fate in the timeline eventually, as a reaction to how traumatizing that was for Arthur. Remarkably, he is about twelve years old in the mindscape timeline, the age he had died, instead of two years younger.
- Mama Kirkland is M in mindscape, not M in reality.
- You go define who the gold-eyed man was.
- Even if the reality sounds a bit better than the mindscape, it really isn't. It was supposed to be a foil for what was happening in the mindscape, to seem just a tad bit better and a bit more normal. If Arthur were to ask the gold-eyed man what was next, the man probably wouldn't have wanted to answer. Life would just go on. Iain seems like a clear route, but eventually, he'd run into some medical ethical issue along the way or something. Cerys would probably forget to look after her own happiness after becoming so dependent on her family for happiness. Donald would probably give into the vices of the show business the higher he climbed. I actually imagined that Seamus and Aoife would eventually stop being able to work, though it would depend on how much they would give each other. I probably would say they could fight to the brink of divorce somewhere down the line, like every relationship could potentially reach. So yes, the scene with the family gathered together — I believe they would come together at a time of crisis and forget their petty fights, but they still would be dysfunctional.

[Asunara Wisdom]

This is a story.

For my Secret Santa.

Her name is Gennixior.

She is the nicest Gennixior I have ever come across.

She is the only Gennixior I have ever come across.

She is not my Gennixior unfortunately.

But I crafted this story just for Gennixior.

Genni, this story is interactive. Read the first part, then you have three endings to choose from. NO PEEKING AT ANY OF THEM UNTIL YOU READ THE FIRST PART. Have fun~

SPOILER: Click to show

{A Snowy Christmas Romance}

The streets of London were filled with a great amount of cheer (or at least as cheerful as the Brits could get). As with many holidays, the young, and at times the not-so-young, would be riled up to progress their romantic endeavors, be it with first dates or mistletoe.

That is, unless you are Marko Veselinov Iliev.

The man had been planning for quite a while, with extra hours spent in the workplace and doing favors for the Q, and even begging Agent Zwingli to pay him if he did extra gun polishing and cheap upgrades (needless to say, getting extra income from Zwingli was the most difficult thing ever). Marko had no need to use the holidays to get riled up for this sort of thing. He has been riled up for the whole year.

However, despite his best efforts, money was always something likely to leave him. Money repelled from his wallet, and so it took him much longer than planned to buy the ring.

Money wasn't enough to get her a diamond ring with the platinum band as he had imagined (though you can say that expectation was a little far-fetched in the first place). Instead, he found himself purchasing a silver ring with a single red ruby. Red was a passionate colour, and so it seemed just right to give her a ruby. It was genuine and represented the bonds in blood they would forget together, not a faux "diamond" of cubic zirconia. And besides, the ring came with a matching pendant he could bribe her with if she felt a bit unsure.

He was able to obtain himself a reservation to the regal eatery of the Fortuna Magnus with a social connection that would be able to waive the exuberant bills. He would never be able to eat here alone, let alone with a date. He arranged for a driver to pick her up with a Porsche... which of course, entailed that his social connection be sponsoring such a date.

He stole borrowed a suit from the MI6 wardrobe department. It was a simple black suit with a green tie. He sent her a matching green chiffon dress, knowing her history of struggling to find clothes for events (though she won't be needing it after if things went well... if you know what I mean). And of course the dress was stolen borrowed from his favorite apparel source.

He owed quite a bit to his social connection, and, if things went well, Marko was going to be indebted to the man for a long while. Marko straightened his tie as he waited outside, thinking about how easy and less expensive the woman's side of the relationship was.

She arrived not a minute early or late, and indeed, donned the green chiffon dress. Her hair was held back with a plastic gold clip and she wore black flats, probably borrowed from a coworker of hers.

"You look beautiful tonight, lyubim," he said, offering his arm "Take it. I'll lead you in."

The couple were lead to their table and were seated. They were given menus, and the waiter winked, as if he knew just what Marko would do tonight. Then again, proposals were common at this restaurant and it was no surprise that a few would be happening on this Christmas Eve.

They ate their dinner, Marko making light conversation, smiling and laughing at the wit in her replies, maybe accidentally too much in some cases. She could somewhat tell there was something on her Bulgarian friend's mind, but what it was, she couldn't exactly say...

He cleared his throat towards the end of the meal after talking at length about the recent wedding of an Albanian friend of theirs.

"Vesna, I know this is sudden but..." his eyes trailed down to the velvet box on his lap. He got out of his seat and felt an unfamiliar shakiness in his legs as he dropped down to a knee.

Here goes nothing.

"Miss Vesna Kitanovska, I love you to the ends of the Earth. You are my sun and stars and I can see you as the mother of my children. You are a goddess and the loveliest person I have ever met. I don't know if I'm worthy of you, but... will you marry me?" he asked, slowly opening the box, revealing the ruby ring. Her great brown eyes widened in astonishment.

"Oh Marko, I..."

SPOILER: Click to show

{Ending 1}

She felt the words slipping out of her mind, and the world stood still. She felt as if gravity no longer bound her to the Earth, and he, Marko Veselinov Iliev, had just freed her forever.

"I... I... I'm sorry I... I..."

Her eyes filled with tears and she ran outside the restaurant.

"Mom, he asked me to marry him! You need to tell Violetta, she probably won't believe me, but he asked!"

Unfortunately, Marko did not know if that was a yes or no and did not get the chance to try to bribe her with the matching jewelry with that speedy exit. Was that a... he hoped that having your intended fiancee run outside crying was a good sign.

SPOILER: Click to show

{Ending 2}

She felt a heaviness in her heart and couldn't believe what she was seeing.

Oh... so that's what all this is for.

"I... I... I'm sorry I... I..."

She could only offer him a tired smile.

"What is it? If it isn't enough, you can have an engagement necklace too," Marko said. He felt his knees turn into jelly. This wasn't how this was supposed to end.

"I'm sorry Marko, I really am, but... I'm engaged to Zoran and I don't think the two of us can be very happy if I accept another engagement. As you know, we've been living together, and he's a nice guy and treats me kindly... and I'm pregnant with his firstborn. I'm sorry, Marko, I really am..." she said.

Andthenhefeltlikeshrivelingawayatthatpoint.

SPOILER: Click to show

{Ending 3}

"I don't know what to say, Marko..." she said, taking the ring "But yes, Marko, yes. I will marry you—"

He swept her off her feet and spun her around several times. She laughed and planted kisses on his forehead.

"You do know you are going to have to ask my dad if you could marry me," she joked.

"I'll get to that, dear. Let's take it one night at a time," he said and wiggled an eyebrow.

I'm sorry if it's OOC but Merry Christmas!

[Deleted]

ASUUUUUUUUUUUU

I LOVE YOUUUUUUUUU

[Asunara Wisdom]

Introduction: This little saga is called "The Dandy Donald" and is told in the same manner as the original tale. I tried to stay somewhat close to the text and dialogues, but of course, incorporated our beloved cast. Please enjoy this production of "The Dandy Donald".

CAST
Jay Gatsby/James Gatz - Donald O'Dalaigh/Finn O'Neill
Daisy Buchannen nee - Lilly "Lili" Adelaide Kirkland nee von Zwingli
Tom Buchannen - Arthur William Kirkland
Nick Carroway - Vash Alois Zwingli
Jordan Baker - Amelia Brownell Jones
Myrtle Wilson - Charlotte Carriedo
George Wilson - Antonio Carriedo
Meyer Wolfsheim - Seamus Ó Ceallaigh

SPOILER: Click to show

{Chapter 1}
It was most certainly a happier time. In those days, people tended to look brightly to the future. They were filled with a great sense of hope for the future. Anyone could invest in the stock market and could expect to find themselves rich in no time. They were all influenced by greed, no doubt, as he was. He traded hot passions for cold cash.

Vash had once considered himself a man that possessed optimism, a hope for a better future, but he found that there was nothing to warrant any such optimism in this world. His optimism was powered with some greed. It had been a while since he had last been back in New York, and for all he knew, he never wanted to see the city again. A city cloaked in white and drenched in its sins, no doubt.

He knew a man who hoped so much with a hope so pure, so just. Donald—who represented everything ash wished he still had, who was holier than the city with no doubts.

---

The Zwinglis were a prominent family who find their roots in the old, upper-echelons in Switzerland. The Zwinglis were known as the von Zwinglis in Switzerland and Liechtenstein, and a few immigrated to the United States, dropping the unnecessary "von". Vash was among one of the descendants of a Zwingli sans the von. He grew up with a nice amount of money and occasional visits to Switzerland. Well-to-do and living in the mid-West, the world of bonds and finance seemed to call to Vash. And where would be a better place for that than the city of New York?

He found himself a home in West Egg. Twenty miles from New York, a pair of eggs lay, separated by a bay. West Egg was the less fashionable (and more economical) of the two, where anyone with new money wanted to find themselves. Adjacent to Vash's house was a mansion that resembled a miniature French chateau, with a luxurious marble swimming pool and acres of garden just over Vash's hedge. This was Donald's manor. Vash's house was not nearly as elegant or large. Simply comfortable and well-to-do.

Across the water stood the temples of the fashionable East Egg, where the people lived like gods and goddesses with money bestowed to them through the ages.

Vash was driving out to the east for dinner that evening with the Kirklands. Lilly Adelaide Kirkland was once a von Zwingli, a close cousin to Vash. She had lived with Vash for a period of time. They grew up with a closeness that almost resembled siblinghood, though she left at the age of twelve for Switzerland again. From what her letters told him, she spent some time in London. Vash wasn't so sure he could imagine his innocent cousin as a young woman who had married the illustrious Arthur William Kirkland.

Arthur had gone to university with Vash a while back. Arthur comes from some pretty old money back in England, and so even in his university days, he didn't have to be so thrifty with his money. The two of them were acquaintances and had something that only somewhat passed for friendship. Not that Vash had too many friendships to compare with anyways.

Lilly's husband was without a doubt a powerful figure. By the age of 21, he was known as a successful published writer who had perhaps written the world's next classic, Eyes of Silence. His family's wealth was so vast, Arthur never had the need to bother himself with the silliness of the bond business. Arthur and Lilly seemed to float around restlessly, having spent two years in England and a month as guests in Spain.

It was on such an evening that Vash found himself driving to East Egg. Their mansion was an elaborate palace that towered over the bay, the lights a glittering gold through the French windows (imported from France, of course). Arthur stood like a Greek god, straight and tall, on the front porch.

"Glad you could make it this evening, Vash," he said with a politeness that is to be expected of a Kirkland "We'll go inside."

They walked through a high hallway, the interior having twice as much grandeur as the luxury of the exterior. A breeze blew, the curtains billowing like the sails on ships on the bay.

There was an enormous couch where two women sat, dressed in white as the goddesses of antiquity were clothd. There was a boom as Arthur Kirkland shut the windows and killed the wind. The two young women rose from the couch.

One was a stranger to Vash, with honey blonde hair and eyes as blue as the bay. The other was Lilly, who laughed in her perpetually charming manner. She held ash's hand for a moment, and looked Vash in the eyes, as if promising that there was no one else in the world she wanted to see.

"It really has been a while, Vash!" she said ecstatically.

"It really has."

"This is my friend, Amelia Jones," she said with a smile, prompting the two to shake hands. Lilly had really grown to be a beauty, as any von Zwingli was meant to be.

The husband and wife idly chattered for a whiles, until Lilly irrelevantly said to Vash "You ought to see the baby. She's beautiful and she really would love to see her uncle."

"I'd love to."

"She's asleep right now. She's three years old. Haven't you ever seen her?"

"Never."

"You really should see her. She's—"

Arthur Kirkland rested his hand on Vash's shoulder.

"What do you do, Vash?"

"I'm a bond man."

"With who?"

Vash told him.

"Never heard of them," he remarked.

"You will, if you stay in the East. I'm predicting an exponential growth of principle."

"Definitely will stay in the East. Why should I even dare to venture away from the top of the world? Europe is on the brink of destruction."

"Absolutely, though why should we care for now? We're safe enough here," Miss Jones said. She looked towards Vash and raised an eyebrow. "You live in West Egg, right? I know somebody there."

"I don't know a single—"

"You must know Donald."

"Donald?" asked Lilly "What Donald?"

Before Vash was able to reply, he found himself being whisked to the next room. They sat at a table overlooking a porch basked in sunset. The two women engaged in idle chatter that Vash took no part in. They talked about gossip involving princesses and presidents, of Parisan tennis matches and Chinese pearls.

"You make me feel uncivilized, Lilly. Can you talk about goats, at least?" Vash confessed.

"I apologize, but civilization is going up in flames. Have you read The Kriegwaldsteiner Case Study by van Kooten?" Arthur asked Vash.

"Why, no. I don't try to involve myself in politics, frankly."

"You really should read it someday. It is a fine book that examines the development of Kriegwaldstein in central Europe and outlines just what will happen to Europe as a whole in the future, comparing it with the case of the dissolution of Kriegwaldstein. There will be a few troubling changes in governments by force. It's already starting."

"Arthur really is very profound with his reading choices," Lilly said, a bit of sadness somewhat buried in those eyes.

"This Dutch fellow really has this whole thing figured out. We are fortunate to live here in America, despite its flaws. Once war strikes in Europe, there will be no escape."

"You ought to see what it's like down South—" Miss Jones began, only to be cut off by Arthur's passionate tirade.

"But you see, despite all this and the way things are shaping up, Britain and her empire will remain, even if there are talks of decline in the empire. Those colonies should understand that once everything is up in flames, things would be much more difficult without the support of the British. She will be the savior of Europe. Her location is advantaged, her power strong, her people a hardworking people. The British are the ancestors of the first Americans, after all."

He was much too focused on his own personal knowledge, his face contorted into one of sincere concentration. It was really intriguing just how much heart he put into an otherwise mundane topic. He was only interrupted by the telephone ringing inside. The butler left the porch.

"I really am grateful you've come to live here, Vash. You don't know just how much I've missed you," Lilly said, her face glowing ever so slightly with the light of dusk.

The butler came back and whispered something into Arthur's ear. He frowned in response.

"Please excuse me," he muttered as he pushed his chair back and went inside.

"I'm sorry, Vash," Lilly said quietly, going into the house.

Amelia and Vash exchanged a short glance.

"What is—"

Amelia put a finger to his lips.

"Shhh..." she leaned forward, unashamed to eavesdrop.

"This Donald you spoke of is my neighbor—" Vash began.

"Don't talk. I want to hear what happens."

"Is there something the matter?"

"You mean you don't know?" Amelia asked with a look of surprise "I thought everybody knew."

"It's obvious I don't."

"Why—" she lowered her voice "Arthur has some woman in New York."

"He does?" Vash asked, feeling a sense of anger, but knowing that it was none of his business.

Amelia nodded "She might have the decency not to call during dinner, don't you think?"

Before Vash had a chance to respond, Arthur and Lilly were back at the table.

"Excuse the interruption..." she said, looking at Amelia and Vash "It really is romanic outdoors, yes? The lawn trees are in full bloom. It's romantic, isn't it, Arthur?"

"Very, my dear," he said.

The telephone rang inside, and Lilly was shaking her head at Arthur. All conversation ended there.

---

After dinner, Vash and Lilly spoke alone together, around the verandas under the moon's glow.

Her eyes were filled with a mixture of emotions, bottled up properly, not to be outwardly expressed; a woman of her rank was to deal with decency and disconnected politeness.

"I've had a really bad time, Vash, and I've become much too cynical," she said, breaking the silence. This wasn't the Lilly that Vash remembered, but at the same time, did he really remember her? He attempted to steer away the conversation.

"How is your daughter? Chelsea, yes?"

"I suppose she's alright... Listen, Vash. Let me tell you what I said when she was born."

"Sure."

"It really shows how I've come to feel things... she was less than an hour old, and Arthur was God knows where. I felt utterly abandoned. I asked the nurse whether it was a boy or girl. The nurse said it was a girl. I laughed to myself and said 'I hope she's a fool. That's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.'"

She shook her head and wiped the tears away.

Vash felt the uneasy insecurities within her, insecurities that she hadn't had before. She was fully aware of Arthur's affair, but what was she to do about it? Where was happiness now? Leaving Arthur would cause a big scandal, and besides, her letters had expressed how much she did love her husband. For all Vash knew, Arthur could probably be a good father to his daughter, but he had the feeling that Arthur perhaps failed in that aspect.

---

The turquoise room bloomed with light. Arthur and Miss Jones sat on opposite ends of a long couch as she read to him in her sensational alto voice.

When they came in, she held them silent for a while with a lifted hand.

"To be continued," she said, tossing the magazine on the table "in our very next issue of Time Magazine."

She slowly lifted herself up, stretching her arms and legs in the manner of a cat that had just awoken.

"Ten o'clock," she remarked, apparently finding the time on the ceiling. "Time for this good girl to go to bed."

"Amelia's going to play in the tournament tomorrow," explained Lilly.

"Good night," she said softly. "Wake me up at eight, won't you, Lilly?"

"If you'll get up."

"I will. Good night, Mr. Zwingli. See you in the morning."

"Of course you will," confirmed Lilly "In fact I think I'll arrange a marriage. Come over often, Vash, and I'll sort of, hmmm... fling you together. You know, lock you up accidentally in linen closets and push you out to sea in a boat, all that sort of thing—"

"Good night," called Amelia from the stairs. "I'm not listening!"

Vash was unamused by such a proposition, but he saw no way to object to Lilly. Not that he could.

"She's a nice lass," said Arthur after a moment. "Her family really shouldn't let her run around the country this way."

"Her family is one aunt that's a thousand years old. Besides, Vash is going to look after her, aren't you Vash? She's spending lots of weekends here. I think the home influence will be good on her."

Lilly and Arthur looked at each other in a moment of silence.

"Did you have a heart to heart chat with Vash?" Arthur asked suddenly.

"Did I? I suppose we did. We discussed Kriegwaldstein if you are interested."

"Don't believe everything you hear, Vash," Arthur advised.

"I heard nothing," Vash said, getting up to get home. They came to the door with Vash, side by side. As Vash started his motor, Lilly called "Wait!"

"I forgot to ask you, but I heard you were engaged back in the West?" she asked.

"That's right, we heard you were engaged," Arthur said.

"That's not true. I don't have enough money," Vash said.

"What a lie, you aren't poor at all, Vash! It must be true, we've heard it from quite a few people," Lilly said.

Vash knew what they were referring to, but Vash wasn't in any sense engaged. The lies that people made up were extraordinary. Vash had no intention of being rumored into marriage, even if the lass involved (involuntarily as well) was a lovely one. Of course, such rumors were an inconvenience, given that she really was engaged to someone else. Such rumors were a driving force for Vash to move.

The drive back was a peaceful and relaxing one, the bay clear, sparkling with diamonds of moonlight. The New York lights were like millions of stars on the skyline. As he parked his car, he noticed that he wasn't alone— fifty feet away, a figure had emerged from the chateau, hands in his pockets. He was looking towards the silver sky, as if contemplating what was his in the heavens.

Vash was tempted to call to him, but decided against it. It seemed as if he was content with being alone. His neighbor stretched out his arm to the dark water, his hand trembling. Vash looked in that direction, seeing nothing of significance except... a single green light at the end of a dock on the other side of the bay. When Vash looked once more for Donald, he had vanished, and Vash was left in the discontent of the clear night.

[Deleted]

Uh okay so I know this thread is my book of words.

but this has words too (kinda)

I haven't experimented with SVP in a while, but I love how this came out.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=eH8a6RAq_GQ

[Deleted]

I REALLY LIKE IT YOU DID WONDERFUL AND FANTASTIC AND IT'S AWESOMEEEE <3333

[Asunara Wisdom]

Wow I haven't written for a year.

SPOILER: Click to show

{Northern Downpour}He was a failure, and he knew it. How dare he fall? How dare he allow himself to be put in such a state? How dare he let her see him in such a state? He had failed his mission, a strike upon his perfect record where it mattered most. 

He couldn't look her in the eye, in his unworthiness. He had heard that she had become quite frail during her kidnapping experience, but he, had not the heart to look upon her. She wasn't supposed to see any sign of weakness from him, but she saw him fall. She saw him lost the capability to protect. She saw him shot with his own gun. Where was the honor in that? He stood in front of the door, but couldn't find the strength to turn the knob. He simply couldn't. He left as he heard the brewing of an argument nearby. 

It was not as if she needed his visit, anyhow. 

He was discharged before her, and he had made his decision.

He was no longer worthy, and simply couldn't serve her any longer.

Dear Miss van Rosenfeld,

I am writing to inform you of my formal resignation of your services. It has been a pleasure being in your service these last few years. I hope you will be able to promptly find someone to replace me. I have included the names of two people who I believe are qualified for the position. I wish you the best of luck in any endeavors you so desire to pursue. 

Sincerely,

Sebastian A. Zwingli

He wrote it in his most impersonal English, without the familiarity of the French they often talked in. 

He hand-delivered the letter to her estate a week before she was discharged, and he left the house without as much as a word to Marianne's staff. It sat upon her desk with its loaded apathy.

But oh how he wanted to say much, how much pathos he wished to imbue in such a letter. Even with all the languages he knew, he was without words. 

How he wanted to express remorse for his cowardice by informing her this through a letter. How he wanted to apologize for his inability to protect her that night, to allow her to be kidnapped, to allow her to suffer the cruelties she had suffered by the hands of the lawless. How he wanted to attest to his worthlessness for freezing up as his worst fears were realized. How he wanted to express how useless he felt. He was no longer needed if he could not protect her. He was of no use any longer. And her heart needed no protection as he felt his own sister's did. There was someone else there to protect her heart, to make her happy, to accompany her grave of flowers. 

But he had no words, the coward that he was. He had absolutely not a word. He was no longer worthy if he could not protect the the people that held weight in his heart. He mourned for his strength, for his stoicism, for his duty. There was nothing else left to do but run.

The last place he was seen was during a funeral. And afterwards, on the next train to Paris. 

I have no clue what I'm doing ffff—