Pleased? Well, she wasn't displeased.

Her mixture of a feeling was pleasant in comparison to others—One example being, if she had a son (she doesn't), and that same son is stabbed over 47 times with a serrated knife while crying out 'MOOOOOOM, HEEEELPP!!!' and the moment she comes in and sees the flesh hanging off the skin in uneven lines with chunks taken out and his internal organs littering the bathroom... her emotional state will be bad. Terrible even.

Compared to that, this is pretty mild, like...

Lightning hits you once every thousand years and all.

That's how she saw it.

'So, maybe I do know how he's feeling, even after that hug... but that just may be me... Ahhh! I dunno... I dunno... and it hurts... it does and does it?! But this is wrong!' She grumbled, showing more emotion through her fingers as they started digging into the open dirt. 'Damn you! Stop feeling so strange... even if I can't call this 'joy' or a 'positive' emotion, I have no reason to complain! This is for myself, right? RIGHT?!'

Her voice wasn't fully understanding, yet not completely furious. She wasn't a being filled to the brim with anger, to let her mind fall into a chaotic inferno and never rise out, but she still felt it was something dangerous if not taken lightly.

Although Zabulus was right beside her, there was an awkward silence between them as Onofre decided it was best that she explains to him, in as little detail as possible... how this kingdom works.

It was a decision made on impulse; as if something else had given a sort of willpower in her mind. 'I guess I'll be more direct, boyo; Not many people can get near here, ya know? Merely, those who come with positive intentions will always receive good outcomes. Never had to worry much bout bad folks, although there was the occasional whack-job that could've easily found themselves a good-for-nothing hole.' She continued to explain.

In her mind.

She was thinking of a way to ease Zabulus into her system. How else could it be said without being the least bit simpleminded and childish, that good always prevails against all odds in a place like this, much less in an entire universe, never-ending as if not for her presence?

'Let me tell you, boyo! Nothing lasts forever, no matter how big the story or small and inconsequential it may be to others. Time always gives the best of endings; a morbid sort, for the unlucky ones, anyway, and if you're one of the blessed souls—then you may go wherever you desire without any regrets or troublesome obstacles. I've said the words, and that's what's to be. Don't let go of that thought... Nope, that won't work.'

A lot of her speeches had random lines, even with her being the one who's currently speaking, she wouldn't deny the fact that, despite being queen—her speeches sucked, really bad.

For instance; Onofre always had a unique way of writing out words. As if the grammar was writing itself anew to fit the 'needs' or 'demands' of Onofre in the moment. But when it came to writing them with a purpose... it's only natural that a person with zero writing skills or practice would not have the proper sentence structure, even less so to say words like those which she intended to use.

And that worked the same for her mind; she always had a way to make words have a beautiful flair, even if it sounded crude or wrong at first—for the most part, though, even that was debatable, but the point still stands.

However... if it came to it being an important announcement or a major speech? That was another thing. Onofre just had bad writing. Period. She simply asks one of her minions to go through the proper steps needed in order to speak—

No,

Not 'one of her minions', and she shouldn't have called them that. That's not their names and not even their 'identities'—They're just as much real people like anyone else; one has a friend and family of her own. But their true names are long since lost. That's perhaps why she took such care in reminding others who to respect and where their boundaries lie. She will always remind them who is in charge. Always.

Or she calls them 'whores'.

'Whoever says whores is a derogatory term is a big fat liar and deserves to be thrown out!'

Is what she thinks.

Because...

"..." Zabulus stared at the broken paths ahead of him, looking beyond the dirt roads as it traveled past the untrimmed plants and into the emptiness beyond, watching the stones turn to dust. Onofre made him feel as though there was nothing else that could be considered but himself...

To not know whether he could survive the test of time and defeat the impossible. Whatever the impossible was; He simply knew it subconsciously.

Dead beings with emotion.

That was one example, of the dead at least.

...

"So! Boyo! Here's a basic run-down of what to expect." Onofre began walking onto the stone pavement as they approached a bridge that crossed over a fragmented fluid substance that resembled an endless, gurgling tar pit. "As the ruler of this kingdom—that doesn't mean I don't do stupid stuff or take long periods of time outta the blue and disappear whenever I fancy... though, I do it with cause."

She brought them over the bridge and onto a much clearer side, letting the air clear out her mind while she continued, "Basically, this kingdom has been ruled by multiple different Librarians before... It's kind of the system, the way the kingdom was built was that whomever is assigned to protect its contents, and to serve its population, can also become the next king. But again... due to some strange circumstance or whatever, that person has no authority whatsoever. So I am technically only responsible in presentation. Though, the people listen to me regardless, I think I know why that is..."

"Ok, I get that." Zabulus interrupted, sounding a bit irritated and ready to take command. Onofre noticed this from the very beginning. 'Damn boyo, not too obvious, but that's so predictable!'

"Look. That's not the main reason I've brought us out here; I just need... to bring you in."

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Her statement seemed so definite... So absolute, even to a point where Onofre's vision had a faint trace of daze to it. "Right, I... I would think so..." perhaps out of unease. She felt some sort of intimidation; and was ready that he'd wring her neck right then and there.

'Do you want to die? Hah!' Is what she thought he'd say.

"I see. Ok then, but, that just begs the question: Why exactly do I have to be your pawn, is there a purpose for it, because you've only brought me this far." He wasn't asking for answers, nor giving a sense that he was on the defensive, merely giving her some lighthearted question.

"Ah... Well... ummmmmm...."

She can't say it.

It isn't as simple as to be truthful or not. That won't matter to her, as her name isn't that simple either.

It's always,

Always!

Going back...

She can't.

"So... Haha, you won't have a role if ya know what I mean, but... I have someone you'll be able to talk to, don't worry, you won't die or disappear." She tried to salvage something she thought went wrong.

"...You're not trying to keep secrets, are you?" He paused briefly, looking around and down, thinking maybe that might show her a hint.

"I'm not."

But then, an idea popped into his mind.

'Tch. Fine. That's it, then, no secrets...' Zabulus tried to open his mouth and continue, but couldn't muster the proper words to say.

Why is that? Why can't he?

'This is difficult...' Is what he thinks in response to himself. 'I feel oddly neutral about it. If she did lie... would I really be hurt or pissed? Probably not... because... why, exactly?'

The situation felt strange, surreal, almost; like a dream he could never reach.

Why he cares so deeply—That part of him was forlorn.

"I have to trust you, I guess. Or I could go off somewhere in the darkness. Whichever makes you feel better." Cracking his stiff neck and flexing his hands, he could see the bones moving and shaking, yet there was no pain. It felt normal.

'Why isn't he mad, though?' She thinks, 'Maybe he just trusts me? But no, can't be that, not at all. Something has changed.'

'Something has changed...' He muses on, 'not really. Something had already changed.'

"So, Boyo, ready to go!? Just follow me—or maybe, instead of 'Boyo', it could be 'boy, man, m'boy, big guy... hehe." She felt somewhat embarrassed from that slip. But again, not that it really mattered; there was nothing directly to look at when saying that, so it wasn't like she was supposed to feel silly or ashamed in the first place.

"You can just call me Zabulus, that's what I go by."

'...? That's not right..."

She was going to push more but stopped herself as she heard a shout from afar.

"O-OH FUCK!!!! HEY!! WHERE ARE YOU, I TOLD YOU TO NOT GO OUTSIDE—YOU MORON!" A rough voice yelled.

A sharp and fierce glance showed a boy about two years younger than Onofre with a sadistic grin plastered over his face and eyes.

He was shirtless, bloodied and torn apart.

It took only a few seconds for Onofre to register what's going on as her eyes widened and mouth gaped ajar—Zabulus seemed to notice the reaction and followed up on what was causing it, so his body leaned forward, the sensation of tumbling came next as he made his move...

Lights blaring red and fire cracking, echoing. It happened as fast as a flash.

He ran fast towards the young man as he held a knife above his head, blood dripping. A wicked grin followed up as he made the cut; a cry and gurgling of fluids followed suit.

A bright beam of light blasted outwards—somehow it defied the laws of physics and merely acted like a transparent glass mirror to the attacker, without making any damage or injuring him in any way, form, or fashion whatsoever.

The knife continued downward as the metal clanked to the ground and blood spilt everywhere, flowing rapidly and noisily into the pavement while the victim continued to squirm on the ground and slowly lost consciousness.

He committed himself to ending the life of one, and yet not getting an ounce of satisfaction from it; he continued, simply as if a doctor checking their patients heart for a fatal wound.

Blood spewed from his own body, the wound that inflicted was not from the knife as it fell out, but from a massive scar from the stomach, oozing thick, almost pitch black, almost... too realistic; too much like a creature could have created it, could have taken one whole scoop of him, and left a small part of his internal organ unrecognizable. The fluid spurts from him every second, while still feeling numb.

"ERK!—" A muffled noise escaped his lips and a droplet of crimson spilt into the grass below him, an eye was squashed under a single heavy heel that belonged to the assailant, no longer alive but surely aware of his mistake; yet as always, an uncaring coldness lingered.

Zabulus stopped in his tracks; 'What are you doing, Lamb? Don't you want to... feel it once more?' The icy, shapeless voice spoke within Zabulus once more. 'Feeling alive in this dull place, where's your desire? Will you keep living until you're killed? Will you keep trying and trying, until you become sane again? Funny. Funny. FUUNNYY!!!' It laughed as it drowned his mind with its shriek.

"MOVE!"

Onofre wasn't weak nor incompetent. Her strength alone was above and beyond a regular woman's and could easily knock out an adult, despite looking so slim; the color of her clothes seemed to have changed again; a scarlet red had bled over her white cloak and the outlines of a faded circle was etched deep into the material.

With her fist reeled back, she delivered a hard uppercut right underneath the chin, sending the now corpse flying backward. A groan from Zabulus sounded in the distance before she turned to help the young boy whose breath stilled in his throat.

Oh—The illusion wore off. That boy... That assailant.

They were all by-products of a mass mind; no such thing as an individual has ever truly existed.

And that was that.

"Where were you going... Young boy?" The queen said with a heavy frown on her face as she kneeled down near the bleeding corpse of this 'being'.

He couldn't remember if they had an actual name for this 'mass being' though it really wasn't all that important—since they never referred to one another that way and only stuck to their individual identities, a lone body was lost amidst the waves.

She reached out slowly, rubbing a gentle thumb across his forehead, making sure that this is the right thing.

With a quick snap of the finger, everything disappeared. There were no bodies, no knives, no wounds. Everything had disappeared in a blink.

That was that, at last.

A person's time was over.

She stood up slowly and faced Zabulus.

"And that's how you lose, sometimes. When someone doesn't even feel guilty about what they've done. Only time can fix what was broken, there is no justice in these worlds." He said, gazing at the sky as it got darker.

"Sad..." She added. "But, I suppose you're not wrong. That was just an illusion. Just some poor lost soul wandering about."

'So even those of them are prone to failure, interesting. To lose their sanity means to lose themselves... well, most of the time.' He mused further. 'Nevertheless... it's an end like no other, I wonder what happens when they die...'

As if by a whisper from heaven, or the sound of a bell being struck once in a minute by the finest silver.

'Ahhh...' He remembered. 'And... yet, not to feel anything but pleasure, ahahaha....' He thought. 'Bewildered, I feel a hint of true... what would they call that? Fear? Or just a small glimmer of something?'

The entrance to the kingdom seemed tall and daunting. It looked as if it hadn't been built in centuries; the wooden sign had cracked and crumbled away until nothing was left. Onofre beckoned him, inviting him closer.

"Ready, now? We have to keep moving if ya wanna survive long enough for things to happen around here..." She gave one last nervous look as they walked inside the open gates that shut immediately upon contact.

'They can't be trusted—They never are, no matter what or who we are. If they didn't look so out-of-character when acting, maybe they could've had a good run at trying to fool me. I'm not that easy to trick, though... hell, I'd reckon that bastard would probably say so much otherwise... So what about her, then?' He began analyzing every possibility of a sudden outcome. 'All the cards are in place, they're just not shown yet, I suppose.'