Repent: Gwyllomay of the Darkness (1.5) (MANUSCRIPT)

-CAPITOL 48- More Similar Than They Think, Part One

    Quilke's eyelids lowered some. An excitement in his sternum bubbling up, he brushed at the ends of his hair. His dark tuxedo still covering his body, he edged closer to the ends of his throne, scarlet trimming around the edges. 

    "S- Sir. What have you done?" Cesare's eyes widened. 

    In front of the adviser, a bubbling collective of smoke hissed about. 

    "Wh- What is this?" 

    "This- This is how he makes his entrance." Quilke gripped the edges of his seat, the gold cushioning hugging  to the trim. 

    "This- This can't be! Thanatarus? Th- The one and only." Cesare gripped his chest. "N- No! Not in here. Not the capital's main room!" 

     "Mhmhmhmhmhm. Rise before me, Thanatarus. You are my enemy. You are the enemy of this entire state, yet I declare you to be my personal prey. I will kill you now." Quilke grabbed at the side of his pale face. "I WILL KILL YOU!" 

    An arm waving about among the smoke, a phlegm-filled voice distilled itself. "Now why would you go and do that? Hugggh. That's just gonna make my job a hell of a lot harder." 

    His right eyebrow raising, Quilke's head lunged back some. "What ever do you mean? Who are you? Are you really Death?" 

    His white eyes, blank as the white of a vanilla orchid, possessed bags underneath. "Hugggh. What's that supposed to mean?" 

     Quilke stood up from his throne, his feet levitated above the vast floor. "You're Death! I mean- Aren't you? Aren't you supposed to have a deep voice and a threatening posture?" 

    Beneath Lord Quilke stood a pale and skinny man. "Hugggh. That's a stereotype, bro. Like, come on man. I haven't washed my hair in, like, five days and you're just summoning me here? Like, why, bro? I have, like, toenails to clip and shit." 

    Cesare cleared his throat, his eyes unable to stop blinking. 

    Quilke chewed at the insides of his cheeks some, the red energy in his eyes slanting. "Listen, if this is some kind of joke-" 

    "Joke?" The pale figure ran a hand across their forehead, a long staff in their other hand. "Hugggh. They always never expect a guy with colorful hair, do they?" 

    "Colorful? The top is black and the bottom is white. Fantastic- You're two shades. Not really colorful, I wouldn't say." 

    "Oh, don't be so close-minded! There's also some grey in there if ya look hard enough." 

    "You- You can't possibly be Thanatarus. I'm- I'M GOING TO MURDER YOU FOR PULLING A PRANK ON ME, WHOEVER YOU ARE! One of my regal underlings, perhaps?" 

    Quilke leaped towards the gothic individual. 

    His fingers twirling, the blade of a scythe grew larger and landed a bolt of electricity into Quilke's stomach. 

    "GAH!" The vampyre fell back, his head knocking against his throne. 

    "My lord!" Cesare's eyes discontinued their blinking. 

    Thanatarus shook his head. "That was an overconfident move on his end. I'm sorry- The bro just came at me." 

    "How dare you?" Cesare stomped on the ground. 

    "Oh, yeah, blame Death, why don't you? Everybody blames me. Like, fucking hell, my guy. Nobody ever asks me how I feel about it, do they? They're just all, 'Oh, damn him'! or 'Wow, what an evil guy he must be'. No one ever asks, 'Hey, you know, how do you think he feels about the way we paint our toilets'? Because, like, let me tell you what. You all paint your toilets in a very weird color here. I don't, like, get it. What's the appeal of-"