I primly sit down, inclining my head with the appropriate degree of deference towards The King and then observed all of the appropriate rituals.
To my left is a courtier who is all around far bigger than I have. The courtier has a massive verdigris eagle head and a huge lime-green body with large rolls of fat that jiggle like Jell-O. Every time the body bumps into the table, it melts through parts of the banquet just by touch. Every time they laugh to “talk” to me, I have to crane my head all the way up, practically perpendicular to my back, which is such a pain.
Not to mention, I despise the type of noble they represent on principle.
To my right is, I would presume, the captain guard, a scarab-headed guard with even more elaborate anime-style armor. They act all serious and gruff. I can tell from the alert antennae and efficient movements he makes as he eats, not to mention, the subtle scanning he makes of his surroundings for dangers. He also has 3 feet on me.
I really want to grumble. I am surrounded by friggin’ giants!
GRMnmNRrrrRRRrMn.
The King toasts to me and my wonderful celebration.
How wonderful. Truly.
Praise be to me.
Ugh.
I just can’t muster up emotion outside of my current “mask.”
I’m exhausted and my arms are in excruciating pain. It feels like a hammer is driving multiple spikes into my head.
My impending death is soon. No doubt.
I breathe deeply, the world turning dizzy for a second. My iron-clad posture starts to bend.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“BANG!”
I sit to attention as if I was in the military, narrowly avoiding slamming my head into my pasta.
I turn towards the clashing sound, peering around the massive bulk, and trying to find the right angle to see past the crystal on my eyes.
What is interrupting? A messenger maybe?
The first thing I see is the gates torn asunder yet again.
Awwww, seriously? Those were just fixed!
Standing amidst the ruins of the gates, proud in a flamboyant light pink dress, is Betsie.
My eyes widen and I stop breathing.
My mouth dries with absolute shock.
She is... alive?
I- HAH! She... I’m saved?
I can’t believe it. I mean... this... could she heal me? My thoughts go
I stand up in disbelief, pushing back my chair in my haste, the rest of the Anathema still frozen in this still tableau, unsure of what to do.
I walk lightly around the courtier, my feet padding quietly across the ground with my ragged pink-and-white sneakers, my speech stuck in my throat.
She paints an imposing figure, looking at all of the Anathema in complete and utter disgust. In her hand she holds a valiant sword. She has the remains of Anathema all over sword, but otherwise remains untouched. She is every bit the Magical Girl I thought she could be.
I know what her name is automatically, just from the way that the Miasma, now ever-loving on me, quivered in fury at her intrusion. It spelled her name in searing kisses on my body, urging me to rid the Tormented zone of her existence.
Her name is Magical Girl Charity.
I ignore it with ease, in favor of staring at her with complete shock.
She realizes I seem to be the only one moving in this odd scene. Everyone seems to be waiting for the other to move. She points her sword at me, failing to recognize my features, but still hesitant.
She could impale me at any time, like she has obviously done to many Anathema, but...
She recognizes something is wrong with this. All of this.
A faint smile graces my face. A wistful smile full of so much pain, and yet, what breaks the soul held within my eyes is not that.
No.
It is filled with hope. So much hope.
I whisper. I whisper so quietly.
“Hi Betsie.”