» every broken promise

It was difficult for the child to make sense of the comings and goings, of the ominous lines, of the treacherous sanctions lining the halls, spiders in parlors, and snakes in the mist. There was always just enough trepidation in the air to have him question, allow the trepidation to linger in the pit of his stomach – but uncertain as to the whys and hows. He followed after his father because that’s what he’d always done, trailed after the mighty exuberance and force of his sire, smiled at his uncle, turned and became captivated by the throng, the din, the mass gathering of so many souls over and over again. But this one seemed different, and he couldn’t fathom the intricacies, the bellowing, foreboding threads snagging, pulling, tying him up in gnarled knots and frayed ends. So he watched, as any curious babe would do, eyes narrowing in brief speculation, witnessing the glimmering lights and the promises of upheaval, of chaos, down by the river’s edge – fascinated, excited, expectant – a grin forming on the depths of his lips. “What’s happening?” His voice was a blend of ebullience and exuberance, for he still hadn’t learned the measures, the schemes, or the specious webs behind Kisamoa’s reign, power, and supremacy. The boy’s head turned to each individual nearby, hoping for a diverting answer, an exhilarating cause for all this commotion. Mauna CROWNS HAVE THEIR COMPASS-LENGTH OF DAYS THEIR DATE- TRIUMPHS THEIR TOMB-FELICITY, HER FATE- OF NOUGHT BUT EARTH CAN EARTH MAKE US PARTAKER, BUT KNOWLEDGE MAKES A KING MOST LIKE HIS MAKER.

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@Zèklè @Iskra