His Poison is My Blood

Chapter 1

One sentence completed. Paragraphs upon themselves highlighted and deleted. Moon fallen, tea cold, and Arthur knew the second he moved his neck that everything in his body would give a sickening crack in displeasure of having sat over the old laptop for so long.

What had he meant to have done, a page at the very least, his editor had begged almost on knees with tears brimmed. Give the audience something to devour, to savour, not to mourn, and yet as he let his body go limp, fingers numb, a glare was given to that single sentence.

Weeks settled alone, work done and research delved, yet this was all there was to show for all his efforts, for every attempt to flesh out a world, there would be one line that didn't fit, for each sentence of devotion, one came to ruin the previous. 

How could he process any of this. Picking himself up from the chair he had stationed himself at only years previously, pouring each gut-wrenching emotion out onto paper, left numb near the end only to hand it in, and yet even when praise was given there was nothing more than a weak nod of acknowledgement. Tea dumped, cup rinsed, slow to slip his slippers on as he made way to the untouched guest room. 

Everyone had said in time that while the pain wouldn't heal, it would become enough to endure.

 Fingers slid upon the knob only to leave just as soon as they had made it, the space devoid of life, dust layered thick, had it not been for the less than frequent times glimpses were caught of him would reports be made of his absence.

Endurance, made through accepting one's situation, to come to terms that while the situation at hand was horrendous, but never giving heart and mind to what that situation was. 

Then perhaps he had not accepted, still nothing more than a mind long gone.

Orange bottle tipped, glass filled and head titled back as he let it slip down his throat. Fingers trailed along the side railing, perhaps more would come later on in the morning, perhaps he would find an escape soon before the next wake.

Chances remained.

Sentence to be left alone.

Curtains drawn, blanket pulled, and as that singular candle lost its flame with that last bit of wick. 

Thoughts and mind now short of sound. 

~.~

Each movement, each breath, it all felt wrong. There was far too much light and perhaps the rod had broken thus dropping the blackout curtains late through the night when he was far into his dreams, when the synaptic had woven into delta waves. 

A harsh hand thrown back - had the roof fallen in?

No, there was no chance anyone could possibly sleep through such an event. There would be too much of a clatter, rain would have dripped down to stir those under. 

Still, the air thinner and his lungs crumbled around the lack of familiarity, hands thrown across until he brought himself to view what had happened to his room when left in the hands of shrouding darkness that came soon forth with crescent fall. 

Fine sheets laid out around him, knees pulled forth only to find the bed larger, room to spare yet only he laid there. Quick to dart from one corner to the next, hands pressed to his chest until eyes squeezed shut, and deep shallow breaths were taken to allow for his airways to open upon the morphine that pressed deep through twisted into veins and latched onto it's holder like a captive rather than the vessel that enabled survival. 

Breathe. 

Nails woven into his sleeves, ones that had not been there prior to. Slow as he stumbled from the bed, the sheets fallen to the floor and a chill sent through his spine, with a jolt upright as he leaned back onto the mattress.

There was a chance, maybe so low but hopes high, that this was after it all.

Gone in a painless method, where no one would know or he could have conceived. 

Slowly, he picked the sheets up, fabric run by his fingertips to palms, settled down to move onto his own attire. 

What a mistake that was. Head rolled back, on his feet to find a mirror or anything to give him a reflection of himself. 

By any chance this was death, then perhaps he would have some semblance of how he had truly succumb to his fate at such an early age. 

Light showered in, and each step was a chance between ice and warmth. Door's flung open to reveal a slew of outfits he had never recognized, a singular door that led to nowhere, and another to a study, only to give with a heave and slump of his shoulders. 

There would be no mirror at this rate, and despite every belief he had held, there was a chance this was resurrection. In which case, all previous memories, all emotions should have long since been removed. Buried with his body.

In any case, there must have been an exit of some sort. 

Drawn to the source of the light, and he gave a tempted laugh to how ridiculous this all had become. How the moment those doors would blow open, fingers laid upon metal, everything would simply disintegrate into nothing but the abyss he had accompanied himself with over the past years, once more to awaken to the pitter patter of rain upon the walls of his room. 

Doors thrown open, wary as he walked out onto the balcony. Breath drawn back in such an irritating fashion he almost scolded himself, though never once given thought as he stepped out onto the stone, sun shown down where he found buildings laid out below past a wall. 

What had he gotten himself into?

Stopped from any further investigation as the doors to the bedroom were flung open, and in that second fear lurched, unable to register any more as the curtains he had undone now cast aside apart from the breeze that gave them an elegant billow.

"What are you doing out here?" Hand held out, awaiting for another to be slid into the empty space.

Thoughts run amuck, he gazed back to the various buildings overlapping themselves as they grew further out of reach. Distant as the thoughts that warned him against every move. 

That single twitch and curve of his lips, how his hand instantly fell into the others with ease only to be pulled forward. 

He knew naught of where he stood, of who he was until this very second, and yet all of that said could not compare as he gave a firm response no matter how his nerves wracked in on themselves, "Out for some fresh air is all." Each parting as they stepped in, doors latched behind his former. "It's nice seeing you, Alfred."

A laugh filled the room, shoulders slumped. Still on edge, yet as he listened, all too familiar, all too comforting. "Your majesty, you said you wanted me gone yesterday, what gives now?" 

"Perhaps I've warmed to the idea of your presence." Quick to dismiss himself, a door chosen at random as he slipped in and away from the other.

Knee's given way, hand pressed to his chest. 

This was more dire than he had previously assumed.