![]() Without warning, the roof of the Maestro's museum was ripped clean off, cast aside-a present coming undone at the hands of an overeager child.Įrrant stared up in horror at the monster that loomed over a crumbling, distorting New Capenna. Plated branches shot through the openings from other planes and sunk into the foundations of New Capenna. The sky streaked with crimson that tore the budding stars asunder. "Can you not see-" Errant was interrupted by a low rumbling in the distance that heralded death and war. "Go, where?" Parnesse slowed to a stop, cupping Errant's cheek. Was she not seeing what Errant was? Did she not feel the ominous miasma that had replaced the aroma of flowers? "What's wrong?" It was now for the twisted union of all of them, condensing into the singularity of one being.Įven her father, Anhelo, had been transformed.Įrrant stumbled. The celebration was no longer about Errant and Parnesse. Their expressions had transformed, too-mouths hung open with broad, too happy grins underneath hungry eyes. Red sinew crept over their bodies like the vines of an invasive plant. ![]() Rivulets of black oil dripped down their cheeks. But what was it doing here, now? Errant's feet stumbled and, when she turned again, the loving eyes of their friends and family had changed. She had seen that symbol before, many times, in the exhibits of the museum. The world was perfect.Ī glass of wine spilled across the floor, the red liquid flowing unnaturally into the shape of a near complete circle with a line drawn through its center. They made their next turn and Errant leaned in, brushing her nose against Parnesse's. It was more perfect than anything Errant's hand could ever hope to capture in ink. Every breath and brushstroke that lay ahead.Īnd her wife's smile as they glided across the dance floor? It outshone the brightest spotlight. They were surrounded by everything and everyone they'd ever cared about and yet the only thing that Errant saw was Parnesse. ![]() Strings hummed over loving whispers and quiet, happy tears. The gathered Maestros-friends and family-were all held in a thrall. Freshly polished statues glistened in the lowlight and music carried their feet across the floor. Flowers hung from the ceiling, strung like chandeliers, perfuming the room with the aroma of exotic blooms. ![]()
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