Wednesday, February 1, 2012

622 - Forzak Forzak Forzak

I watch the Young Sinner and the benighted and demonic crowd around them.  That... female... who will be named Imperatrix, the foreigners who surround the once pure and perfect scions of the Imperial line...

The dog-keeper in the ridiculous parody of the Fenjitza’s wear surround by his vile beasts, all mocking the various ministers of the greatest Empire on the earthsphere. The foreigners, the whore sister of the Lakan King, the great Demon Queen’s young bitch, the dissolute Crown Prince and his decently veiled wife are all out of reach even of a well puffed dart, on the back of that Hayel monster beast being maintained by Itzan. It curls the snake nose back up and away from the ground and blares its horrific wail.

Vileness.  Corruption.  In this most corrupt of days. In this Hayel-borne festival.  The shocking waste of food on this day, even if most is consumed when scraped off the heaving, vile bodies it has been scurrilously applied to.  Even if festival cakes, of not much more than flour and water are the most often flung weapons... or fruit that is in such abundance now that no one could devour it all... it is still sinful and evil to treat it so.

They are in the fountain now, the boy... the boy that I hope to one day save from his hideous brother’s court and return to salvation... is right next to him.  Their guards... too much too many too vigilant.  The Sinner and her... they are holding bare hands right in the open.  The formal wedding box already sits at the Wedding Gate in the Temple.

When the normal order of things begin again they will make their token walk... her in the public bridal gown, him in the formal robe of the Imperator in fasting... before the parody of the Ten Tens that he, no doubt, will pretend. The Ten must surely have turned Their faces away from us poor mortals.  

I can see the pernicious pair, covered in food, standing in the fountain like a pair of fools, their hands bare before the enormous throng of celebrants.  The whole square below is thick, they had to weave their way over to Ten Angels through the crowd, though they were surrounded by those forzak guard even at a distance.  I could not reach them, I could not plan since I had no idea where they would be in the city.  I tried to have my people in the Presentation Square but they are not daring the guards.  I am not asking them to die for no reason.

The young Sinner and his shameless Masker, repeat the wedding vows in common Arkan... just like the despicable conqueror and his flying slut. Vileness masquerading as holy words.  The translation must be wrong. I do not comprehend this base depravity that they say is a true transliteration of the ancient texts.  Base sexuality. It shows clearly the slime of the female wanton that purification justly and rightly cleansed, but putting those wicked words in the mouth of the husband is both iniquitous and criminal.

The hayel-sent conqueror and his slut are there in the water as if they were proper wedding support, as if this were a proper wedding. 

Their guard are also there.  Easy to see.  Impossible to reach through.  The shrieking horror of a parrot sits above, perched on the knee of one of the angels, cursing in Arkan and I assume other languages. It makes me physically ill, this hayel-display.

Forzak, Forzak, Forzak.  They splash in the water as if they were children. The Yeoli daifikas boy and the draggle-tailed brown bed-smear of a female are linked arm in arm with the two pseudo-Imperials.  They have each other’s rings on bare fingers.  Bare to the sun and bare to the world.  They wind naked limbs around one another and duck each other in the water.  The dogs are milling around and licking up smeared food and faces and bare skin.

I turn away.  This gustatorial excess, the feast being laid out from the Marble Palace to celebrate this horrific parody of an Imperial Wedding, makes me sick.  Ten help me.  I must turn away.  I cannot watch any further. I will steal that innocent child away soon.  I must.  I must save him.  That tentacled slug crawling upon him would be better eaten than played with.  I must plan.

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