SEASON ONE TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE HIATUS OF SEASON 3A - SEASON 3B
PREFACE:
Tonight's episode will star a one: u/TheOneWhoSaysMeep, u/FrostyHawk667, u/SubZero008, u/MakaButterfly
For those of whom haven't been initiated.------> The Beginning of this... thing.
DISCLAIMER: If you are prone to fear grammatical errors, spelling issues, random perspective changes, and novice level writing skills, blame u/nerdman01. You will be triggered deeply. Please be mindful that people have been altered and is meant to be all in good fun. Now have fun and thank you for your time- and thank all of you for making my time here great and enjoyable. I WILL ALWAYS MEAN THAT. I wouldn't be writing it if no one was humoring me. FOR THE O.T.P!
Link to all the art done for Season 1 so far.
SEASON 1 FINALE - / The End of a New Age /
“This. This might be the only opportunity in my life to see the island, Sweens. I don't want to hold regrets in the Meta.” Meep was a stoic boy by nature, but Psweens could sense his will and how strong it persisted.
“So, you're just gonna stowaway with one of the most dangerous Starco affiliates in the Meta? You know he earned that crown… it wasn't inherited.” That was the legend, after all. Nobody really knew.
The silence of the cargo bay stood eerily as the two conversed and the pause didn't help the environment ease.
“Yes. Final answer.” A rare expression of inflection came over Meep and Psweens wouldn't persuade the youngster any further.
“Meep, you are a strong one in this world, but you have to realize when you're pushing your luck. Your meta-related posts will only get you so far out there.” He lifted up his hand to present a small glow in front of himself. From the middle of his palm lay one of Meep’s finest Meta posts. “When the morning comes, I'm hopping on one of those scooters and getting to the Discord Islands before the new episodes drop. I'd recommend you do the same.”
“I'll take my chances.” The rest of the night was silent for the hidden. Just as Psweens told Meep, he did just so.
Quietly, he made his way to one of the small vessels that the Tomkies had sat offshore, opened the sails, and headed south.
Meep could hear the guards climb aboard. He heard everything go just as had been advised. His nervousness was dampened by his intrigue. There was nothing that could stop him from feeling the ground of the christened island.
Of course, the emperor's crew checked the cargo bay, and of course, our little protagonist hid. Of course, the Emperor trusted his men, and of course, they set sail before the rising sun. If their timing was correct, they should make landfall by noon.
If that wasn't enough, the island was now guarded by the remaining factions that wished themselves close. Set sail, my emperor, and let your flags fly.
“I want you all to know since the beginning, I've respected your diligence.” They were rare words from the Scepter as he spoke to his company. There weren't many words from the leader, but the crew knew that the situation was grave with his brevity. They had known him long enough that they needn't words to tell his mood or intentions.
All three of the guards saluted and the Tomkie boatcrafters shoved the vessel off the dry dock. Meep felt, that the boat was hellbound.
…
It was shortly after reaching across the Blood Moon Sea that the cannons of the rivals began to fire upon the Tomkie-dressed ship. They paid no mind to what could have been on the ship so long as they managed to fire upon something.
It had seemed the Kellco forces began to fire on the ships of Jarco and created a royal of bleeding nauticals in the wake of the battle. Trust and truce were broken and many of the “allies” began to sink.
Luckily, this small vessel was covert, and not to mention it was fortified with a layer of Nefrald that protected well against most barrages.
The mast picked up much of the gust that blew it eastward towards the island. Most of the Kellco ships remained close as the island rejected Jarco furiously.
The ship skimmed closer and closer to the impending Kellco forces. Meep could feel every onslaught. He heard every percussion from the cannonballs. He could hear the nails moaning out in mercy while the ship was attempting to remain together.
However, it wasn't the Kellco forces, nor the Jarco fleet, nor any of the small MoonCo clan that hung their vessels adrift, but one lone ship, a ship represented by the colors green, red, and purple, coming southward from the Discord Islands.
It sprayed the Tomkie ship with rows of arrows that caught fire in mid-air. A remarkable feat. The flag raised revealed only but a dark-grey. Nothing more, nothing less, and no one seemed quite pleased on the deck of the ship, for the ship was engulfed in flames.
The panic began on the deck as the inferno grew. Meep could hear the sound of metal clanging and movement while some of the crewmen attempted to douse the flames.
FrostyHawk and his Imperial knights stayed towards the far end of the ship whilst they watched as the boat incinerated.
After only minutes, the crew decided that this was useless and make their way for whatever land mass seemed optimal. The regal party watched in horror as one by one their Tomkie sailors jumped off the bow.
In a surprised moment, they made eye contact with the young Marclipsa general. Meep could hear the ringing cascade over his ears as he had heard before.
The royal guard pushed Frosty towards the edge of the guardrail.
“..but I don't know how to swim.”
There was a large explosion from the stern of the ship where the fire had weakened the wood underneath the sheets of metal. There was not much helping one another while the ship rocked, the explosion forced, and all were pushed off into the ocean.
Meep found himself out to sea. He could hear… he could hear the waves and the dying boat; he could see the Isle of Daron not too far off, and this insufferable ringing. It grew louder, louder whilst he gazed in different directions.
The ringing grew as he swam around the moaning vessel, around the rutter that was now pointing to the air. There was the Emperor, flailing in the waves.
Meep grabbed onto his light armament and they both began their way to the island.
“Breathe deeply,” said the boy to the emperor as they lightly drifted out to sea. After a moment of realization, Frosty spoke.
“Meep?”
“Yep.” As he dragged the imperial through the water, he brought the Emperor to a piece of driftwood and they both clung to it. “Just kick.” It was once again said with a small mouthful of salty water.
An agonizing slow travel afloat the ocean, it was. The Liege and The Rebel both awkwardly took their route to the island. All the ships blissfully paid no mind to the miserable two.
After hours of slow travel, the waves carried them towards the shore. The island glowed with the soft black sand, and the final wave dumped our two onto the shimmering beach.
Both Meep and Frosty laid there for a moment gathering themselves on the shore, being doused by the surf.
“Not gonna lie, that was the most excitement I've had in years,” he spoke to the youngster, out of breath from their reprehensible voyage.
Meep finally got up, first kneeling and then raising himself, covered from head to toe in this darkened sand. “Not for me…” Meep was indifferent towards the Emperor. He sought no aggression towards the Starco leader. “The thing you should really be questioning is why your cargo bay was filled with gunpowder.”
Frosty hadn't suspected why his ship exploded, he had simply thought it was because of the mysterious ship.
Frosty finally got to his feet. His light Nefrald armor was not over-encumbering him, but he still didn't get up as gracefully as he should have. The island’s presence felt heavy; the gravity was harsher and the air denser.
He could feel the weight of the Starco Post he was carrying. Meep felt none of that as he wandered towards the heart of the isle.
It was then the fate of the universe was decided. It was the great floating city that began to tilt. It always lingered in the distance, quiet in the sleep of isolation.
Meep looked on as he thought it was a coincidence, or simply some kind of anomaly. The Emperor finally caught up to the young man who was showing no hostility, only showing perplexity at the situation, As were many eyes that watched these series of events unfold.
“Uh, that isn't supposed to happen,” Meep said quietly to Frosty. The island began tilting further, now caught in a surreal pose. It then began to fall. Gliding in the direction of the isle, where the two watched on from.
“Is it gonna hit us?” Frosty asked as quietly as the previous statement.
“It might,” Meep dictated.
“Is it going to hit us?” he repeated, now more like an order than a question to the young General.
“It. Might,” Meep said through gritted teeth.
“Aw. Well, this is awful.” Frosty remained still, watching the massive city break free from its shackled position.
Meep continued walking closer to the apex. “If it hits us- it hits us.” He shrugged as he walked away.
There was one thing of worry as the island began to loom overhead. Frosty could make out one small dot that flew separately from the city. It looked as if it were targeting the island. It wasn't a thing, but a somebody. Frosty prayed for them as he had his eyes locked.
It wasn't flailing as a body in death’s grasp should, however; it was impressively laid out. Descending with purpose.They...he, yes, a he, was all Frosty could watch. He was coming right for him. Right for this very beach, this very meter.
He… the ninja. Yes, Frosty could make out the shinobi attire. His face was guarded and hidden. Frosty’s heart felt heavy, and then it felt like it had nearly stopped altogether.
“Zero,” Frost breathed as the ninja fell towards the only target that could brace his impact. The island was completely devoid of any structure, vegetation, dunes, or anything that could slow his fall. The only thing that stood was these two people that made their way to the island.
It was fast. The impact was incredible but was different than most. At the last second, Subzero had flipped his body, fueled his legs with his karma, and braced for impact. The Crown of Starco crossed his arms and guarded against the shinobi.
The force pushed Frosty back to the line of water in the sand. Eventually, he began to tumble over himself, once again being enveloped in sand.
The shinobi just laid there, not realizing yet the ramifications of that gesture. He was simply happy to be alive, still holding the epic A.U. known as the “Shipping Wars”. Though, he also felt very heavy from the Island’s strange atmosphere.
Subzero knew that voice and he got up, weary of his condition and nearly stuck to the ground. “My liege,” Sub smirked, “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” They both stared one another down for quite some time whilst they knew of the imminent confrontation.
The waves crashed against the sand. The sand held by the island and island held the sand. The sea commanded the beach, and the beach kept the land.
“I have “The A.U.””
“No! I refuse to believe-” He immediately was interrupted as SubZero pulled out the legendary FanFiction known as The Shipping Wars. His hand alit with a golden hue and a brilliant light illuminated from his palm. “...No.” Frosty went from tempered to controlled rage quickly. “Sub, that’s only half the battle. You do realize that the island must accept it first.”
“I've been through too much to not at least try.”
Once more, the ocean called over them. The surf reached the back of Frosty’s foot. It licked him and he hesitated to let it happen again. He took one more slow, precautions step.
“Well, do you feel that heaviness? Do you feel your legs trembling at the mere attempt to keep standing?” Frosty took one step towards the man. “Yes. Yes, you do. It's the same feeling I’ve had coming to this island over the time of my reign. It's the same dampening weight I feel now.” He stepped once more. “The island will never accept you; it doesn't accept me.”
Subzero knew this was not deception. This was, indeed, a fact.
You know the throne will always be there for you when you’re ready,” Frosty mused, almost captivated by the thought. Subzero saw a familiar smile come over him.
Once again, the only thing that could be heard was the pouring waves. Then, without warning, the massive crash of the MultiShipping City came upon them. Subzero flinched, but never took his eyes off the scepter.
“Genetics shouldn't inherit a crown.” The wind rushed as the two couldn't hear much else.
Meep looked back to see the two, but that was the least of his concern- no matter how peculiar the situation. Finally, the wind died and the two could exchange barbs once more.
“Two ways, Sub: By death or by gift… but I’m not gifting you anything until my son can just come home.” Another strong pause was held between the two.
“I have no home. The empire was never any home!” He gestured his hand flat quickly outwards, “The Starco Citadel is a bastion for- no, an enclosure for passive aggressive idiocy and inane politics. There is not a chance that things will ever change, Frosty. Not a chance in hell…”
The absence of thought befell the young man wearing his deep blue tunic.
“So what be it then? What is in a legacy if no one is there to bring about a new era?” Frosty held out his hand and the Starco Fanfiction that was weighing him down appeared in his palm. He lifted his hand and the Fanfiction beamed into the air. Subzero held out his hand to show his own. He dropped to his knees while looking upon the thing that took so much to achieve.
The rushing of the falling City must have altered the weather. Two separate water spouts raged around the island, eating the water, and spitting it into the sky. It began to rain.
"The Starco Empire is diseased. Rotten to the core. There's no saving it - we have to tear it out by the roots. Wipe the slate clean. Burn it DOWN! And from the ashes a new empire will be born! Evolved, but untamed! The Starconians will be purged, and the shippers will thrive. Free to post as they see fit, they'll make the subreddit great again!" He did the same as his father. The A.U. was sent to the sky and returned to the Metascape.
Both, no longer encumbered by the grace of their tributes, dug their feet into the sand. With the sea to his back, the emperor took a stance.
Subzero, sending his karmic energy through the force of his legs, leaped. He was at Frosty, propelled forth by his jump. Frosty caught the punch. Holding Subzero’s hand in one hand, Sub went for an uppercut to the left. Frosty caught the other. The Starco leader pulled both his hands apart, causing Sub’s body to come inward. He headbutted the shinobi, sending him back, rolling backward, and backhand springing to get to his feet.
Sub jumped into the air. Frosty dove and rolled. Bringing the ax-kick down, Subzero left a crater in the sand where the Emperor had once stood. He glared towards the scepter. Frosty looked back and his eyes filled with malice.
Subzero jumped once more, attempting to get behind. He was unsuccessful, the King punched the kick that was pitched in desperation with his own karmic power. This sent the shinobi flailing through the air towards the apex of the island. He began to tumble over himself while the emperor ran towards him. The sand made his running slightly awkward, slipping his first few steps.
Jumping not hardly as far as the ninja, the emperor came down with a punch that met only the ground. Subzero kicked his body up off the ground at the small remaining seconds. Again, there was a small crater in the sand of the island. The emperor grabbed onto the multi-shipper, a deathly strong hug, and attempted to pull him to the ground.
Subzero, in a ditch effort to not get grounded, jumped while Frosty was holding on. This sent both in a spiral of flipping and flopping. When Subzero had finally come to halt, out of breath and still exhausted; he got himself up as quickly as he could from off the sand.
Looking forward The Hawk was already upon him. The shinobi ducked when a jarring left hook sought his head, a small uppercut- juked left. If these punches made so much as a small bit of contact, there wouldn't be much hope for him. He looked down and saw a small opening. His footing fell in the sand.
The shinobi hooked Frosty’s leg from under his body, and lifted up to fling the Emporer in the air. Cartwheeling, the shinobi swung his body around and delivered a reverse-kick to the chest of the man that was in mid-air.
Once again proving his tenacity, Frosty got up to his feet. The bodies were bruised but the wills continued from both participants. The next punch hit directly in the middle of his guard. The forced knocked Zero back; his arms were useless as proven by the fact that they were now broken. The force of the karma shattered most of the bones in his right arm. The next punch was held back and shot through the middle of his person.
From afar, without any warning or forecast, the king was back at SubZero. Without rest and out of breath, the man attempted to give a flurry of kicks. One roundhouse delivered near The Hawk punished him greatly, but he grabbed onto his leg as it rested on his shoulder. Using Subzero’s leg as a pivot point, he suplexed the young man into the sand, and then once more. The force of the slams knocked out the shinobi for minor seconds.
The emperor was going for one more slam, but he allowed SubZero’s leg too close to his body where he kicked off. Using Frosty as a platform, Sub managed to slip away from his might.
A small idea came upon SubZero. From a few meters away, the ninja beckoned The Hawk to come forth. He did just that; as he was just steps away, Subzero hooked it with his own and rolled the emperor down to the ground.
He pressed his legs against his father’s chest and pushed as hard as he managed, flinging him into the ocean. He landed a survivable distance offshore.
Subzero readied himself for another of Frost’s battery, but he just sat there watching the ocean, the cyclones still rushing and dancing in the distance. He watched the ocean longer than he should have, preparing for nothing. He studied the turbulent ocean, but he could make out nothing from the waves.
Walking closer, closer to the edge of the surf. He watched outward, but Frosty was gone. True as my words, the Emperor was no more.
“Father and Son fighting over this?”
Subzero flung his head around; the high pitched voice came from behind him. A small blonde girl stood before him, higher on the beach of the blackened sand. She held out the Ancient Starco Crest that represented the highest level of royalty and anointment. She pinned it on her light-red jacket.
Out of breath, Subzero spoke to her, she stepped slyly closer. “Who-” he panted, “who are you?”
“I'm offended! There's no way in this great-big-undisclosed world that you don't know who I am.” She smiled while she spoke and it was unnerving. “I, my friend, am a convenient, coherent (sometimes), self-aware little obstacle sent here to kill you figments of some idiot’s imagination. Sorry about that- or well, this.” Quicker than Zero could see, she was behind him and he fell to the floor.
…
He wandered slowly to the middle of the island, expecting to see something of an altar, an effigy, perhaps a magical being even waiting for tribute.
As he could begin to view the tip of the island that sloped gently upwards, he could see nothing. It was flat and plain. Nothing of interest that really deserved his attention.
He had reached the plateau of the island- still nothing. Not even a change in environment. Just black sand and harder ground with black sand on it.
He nearly stepped in it. His foot nearly hung off the lip of the hole. His shoe hugged the lip of the pit.
“Hmmm.” It was about 3 meters across. Smooth sides that looked as if were hand carved or excavated by machinery. He put his hand over it. The feeling of electricity lightly coated the boy’s hand. “Mmmhmm.” Nothing quite interesting at all.
He kicked a bit of sand down the “tube”. There was a small echo at first but then nothing. “Welp.” He was done here.
“What did you expect? For him to impress you?”
Meep knew that voice. He really wished he didn't, but he knew exactly who that was.
“He's not writing to impress anyone,” Maka told her brother, “You know why I'm here.”
“Maka, I'm not going to fight you. Not again,” Meep spoke back to her without looking.
“Motherfucker, I just swam across the ocean!” She yelled at him, “I skipped across an entire country! For what? So I can stand here and talk about how he had to do it to ‘em? How I just killed the Emperor?!-”
“You what?”
“How I just want to go home, but no, I had to come all the way across the goddamn MetaScape to try and find you-” She turned around, ran her hands through her hair; the pain of the loud buzzing in her ears and head was too much for anyone to handle. “-To try and kill you.”
There was a pause while Meep attempted to remain as motionless as he physically could. “Why, Maka, why me?” She clenched her fist at Meep’s statement.
“Why you?!” She turned towards Meep. “Why you?! Why me? I should be asking that question, not you!” Meep thought that this dramatic yelling was pretty funny with her high pitched voice, but he didn’t dare allude to it. She continued while she curled her knuckle and bit down on it, “At least you’re not a plot device… why did he choose me?”
“Who?” Meep couldn’t remember too well, but a small buzz came over his ears.
“You know who! He chose us, he chose us for some reason to know that this stupid song and dance isn’t real. Why. Why? Why. Why?”
“I still don-” Meep was still truly confused.
She fell in silence and gathered herself. “Where are we?” she asked.
“The Isle of Daron,” Meep answered, attempting to avoid confrontation. Her head sunk and she looked down at the ground. Her hair dangled over her face.
“No. Bigger picture, brother.”
“The Subreddit’s MetaScape.”
“What is a subreddit?” She looked up occasionally, and Meep could see the emotion on her face.
“Well, if you study The Meta, we’ve come to a conclusion that it’s a website that houses other topics. That’s all we know-”
“Shut up!” She was crying now but smiling. “Yes. About a show, we as people, have never seen and we- and we- and we fight based on these characters in the show. He spoke to you, Meep. He’s spoken to you. Him and his stupid toady. We’re just characters. We’re- this whole place,” She held out her hands and spun on one foot, “is just some fool’s mind. We fight because he tells us to. We live because some asshole is telling us to. We love because some bastard’s sitting there in front of a computer screen and typing over and over and over again.”
Meep eyes fluttered from left to right in a compilation. “...No…” Meep knew it was true. He was a smart boy, after all. “Maka, whether or not we’re real, I still don’t want to fight you.”
“Oh, we’re gonna fight. He’s telling us to fight so he can complete this story. One of us is gonna die this evening.” The two twisters spun and kept the rain billowing down on the two youngsters. It mixed with Maka’s tears. “It’s not fair, Meep! It’s not fair!” She quickly stomped her foot to the ground. She took one of her daggers out from the holsters. She threw it, the blade stuck the dense sand of the island. “Pick it up.”
“I don’t want to.” He responded frankly.
“Yes, you do! I know you do because he wants you to! He wants me to!” she screeched. A pain came over Meep. From inside his head, pain split to his ears. A sharp, disgusting pain that compelled him, whispered and persuaded him to fight. Before he realized it, he had the dagger in his hand. Looking at it, then at Maka.
“Ha Ha!” She laughed maniacally while bouncing up and down. “You said yes to him, you said yes! While you were banned you said yes…” Her face dropped from a gleeful expression to one that of stoic embrace. “Let’s put on something a little more deserving, shall we?” She clapped her hands. “I hate commercials, but don’t we all? That’s why I use AdBlock.”
Luckily, Meep could keep up with her speed. She was already at him, stabbing from left to right with her single dagger. He parried twice in a frantic attempt to keep balanced. He kicked with a decent force, his foot almost slipping at the edge of the hole. It pushed her back a way.
Maka caught herself on the floor of the island. She flipped over his standing body. In mid-air, she grabbed his shoulder with one hand and brought both of her legs into his lower back. She went for a stab to Meep’s throat but was blocked by his own dagger.
She simply struck Meep on the opposing side of his head, kicking from his back. She attempted to kick him into the pit. An incessantly clacking keyboard could be heard even from above the hole, chronicling the battle and these words as they happened. He managed to catch himself before the hole; he managed to clip the floor with his feet and jumped over the hole in the island. Sliding on the sand, he turned to find Maka.
She was jumping over the hole, following him with dagger brandished. The point was directed at his heart. Meep held out his feet and a face of apprehension came over Maka. She landed directly on his two extended legs and using her momentum he flinched her behind his laying body. She tumbled down the sandy slope, but caught her body and slid on her feet to a halt.
Meep jumped from the plateau, using the leverage he had on her. He held the dagger in both hands, one hand with palm on the hilt. She attempted to avoid the brash attack, but it was so powerful that it broke through her guard and it forced her to simply dodge the blade.
Meep went on the offensive. He feigned a stab to her shoulder. Flipping his dagger to the opposing hand, he hooked her in the jaw while she watched the blade. He stabbed under her guard where she kneed his arm upwards. His hand, along with the dagger, went in a haphazard direction.
Smiling, she grabbed his arm, flipping on top of his body and began hyperextending. Meep could barely stand, attempting to fight the slope of sand, her body weight, and her. He grit his teeth and attempted to once again, stab her while she was on his person. He tried with all his strength to hold his joint in its socket.
While the dagger came down on her she kicked the dagger away. He came at her again with the knife. This time she kicked his face. He went down and so did she. They both tumbled down the incline. Meep caught himself first and began running up the hill. Maka dug her dagger into the compressed sand and slowed her descent. She threw her dagger. It swirled and twirled through the air, hitting him in the ankle, slicing, but not stabbing. He continued to make his way up the sandy embankment.
Maka slowly got to her feet and followed.
“Hold on.” Meep held out his hand. “Can we have a break?” The rain stilled belted down on the two. The Meta itself rumbled as if it was unhappy with their defiance.
“I mean, it’s not like we’re going anywhere.” The two of them settled for a minute while they stared one another into the oblivion that was their existence.
“You… uh- I think this…” Meep was cut short by Maka.
“No, you!” She turned her head to look at the dagger. She pulled out a whetstone and began sharpening the edge. She caught the rain as a lubricant for the process. She looked down the blade of the dagger and pointed it directly at Meep. “Father and son, sister, and brother making the island bloody. A bloody mess confessed. I digress. I contest. I detest.” She looked at Meep, and took deep breaths as he was doing. “I want you to speak to him again and again. I want you to speak to him over and over and over until you know my pain in my brain.” They both made eye contact while she said this to him.
Meep took one deep breath and raised his hand
“Ready?” she said.
“Sure.”
Meep ran towards Maka, once again at speeds rarely seen throughout the MetaScape. Maka, at the very last moment before impact, dove under Meep. Her extended foot hit Meep’s planted foot and it sent him into the air. She threw the dagger true and straight. Meep guarded and it struck into his right arm, under the shoulder.
Maka came to a halt, leaping at Meep who had fallen to the ground. She was above him when he fired a shitpost of desperation; she slapped it from mid-air, deflecting it towards the beach.
Maka came down with her fist, punching Meep with all her weight and might. His head was pushed back into the sand. He stammered back on the ground, attempting to avoid the next kick. He couldn't. He kept crawling backward. He held his dagger for the next ax kick that he had buried under the sand. Her leg fell directly on the point. He twisted it before her appendage was retracted.
He looped his foot around her leg and lifted before she could jump away. She fell to the ground. Meep used this time to get to his feet with his one usable arm. Both warriors looked at one another with their disabilities completely known to each other.
Meep ran at Maka once more, his limp and bleeding arm still clenched. He gave a strong left hook that made contact, but Maka came back with her own and then another. His vision was going dark; he held her shoulder and head-butted her nose. With that, she took the dagger out of Meep’s shoulder.
Meep miraculously dodged a flurry of unwieldy stabs and slices. It was little more than an absolute anomaly that he was able to defend himself against Maka, who was clearly winning this exchange. The massive hole in the middle of the island lingered on behind them.
Meep stepped on Maka’s bad leg and managed to uppercut her, but in retaliation, she slammed Meep to the ground in an act of brutality. She was on top of him, dagger held high, looking at him. A small moment of hesitation decided the fate of the youngster. She looked at him for a final time, a lone tear in her eye.
I told you one of us is gonna die this evening.
The dagger came down.
A large draft of wind came over the youngster. An explosion knocked Maka to the side. Laden to the ground, she looked at Meep, the hole directly behind her back. Meep lifted his arm to point it at the small warrior. Her eyes spelled acceptance and Meep whispered to her ‘sorry’.
Meep fired a shitpost at her. Her body flung directly into the hole that was set in the middle of The Island of Daron.
Meep looked behind him to see where the shitpost had come from. Our little protagonist was surprised to see a very apprehensive Psweens.
The massive pit sprayed forth a beautiful array of lights sprang forth and filled the sky.
Well, you weren’t wrong.
....
….
……
……
Cirdian was held up by his many other Starco Generals. CardButton and FrostyJam were having a friendly debate over who was the best character in the show; Ngame attempted to jump into the conversation, but was also jotting down what they were saying. VaultJumper and Jayboi were playfully flipping off the rest of the bunch. TheWritingRex was having a discussion about the music of the show with 650_dollars and many more were collaborating as they had been doing on the boat.
“Screw this,” Frosty said while he took off to land. He held out his hand and stopped the newer user that sacrificed himself in the Battle of Statera. Spoder gave him a pat on the back while he passed by. “Here. Oi! Everyone!” All the Starco commanders and generals came to a halt and looked upon their Emperor in glee. “This is our new Emperor, Alpharius1701!” Frosty and his once subordinating commanders dropped to their knees. The other Starco affiliates followed their lead.
“Thanks?” said Alpharius, while the once-Leader got up.
“Don't thank me yet,” Frosty said while he hugged the man and walked him down the dock. “Thank me after I get the Discord.” He laughed.
JeepDave lingered behind Coraline and after everyone else had left her ship she turned to him. Even with her blindfold, she somehow knew exactly knew where he was. Where his eyes were. Jeep was intrigued. Jeep lit a cigar, and began puffing.
“What's gonna happen, Coraline? What's gonna happen to Maka?” She turned slowly while the gangplank lifted itself from the loading area and nestled itself neatly away. She carefully looked out to the MetaScape.
“I don't know?” Her mouth, being the only thing of expression Jeep could read, seemed serious. “I just don't know? The Island has never accepted a user. Anything could happen.”
“Hey…” Jeep said hesitantly.
“Yes, Dave?”
“Could you drop me off anywhere but here… you know… in the middle of Starco territory?”
She scoffed, snapped her fingers and the sails magically dropped. The winds filled and they were off… Off to another coast, off to another goal, while she watched the people mingle in her Sub.
“They better behave next time. It’s all in the rules. I will bring down this banhammer so hard they’ll be standing in /co/.”
“You and me both know that’s a fate worse than death.”
…
“I know.” She answered. They took to the open sea.
Now. How do we end? Like an ode, there should be a poem. A groan from the audience. A tendency for tender embrace to the fact that we're done with this tale. We're done- I'm done with this labor tailored for all of you. Woven and weaved, fabricated and reprieved, disheartened but never without the ability to upheave. We are the beginning. We are the plot. We are the things that brought all of this together at last, but as time moves and with the tools we use; all must come to an end. Make light this discretion, my friends. O muses, I needn't want you to start, but I need your strength to finish what I started. Apart from what we've created as the sub-goers, some that stayed and some that have gone. Even with these texts of times forgotten, some have already moved on. To other lands, to another place, passing themselves among the greatness that is the wholeness of these worlds. They will forever be part of the history. We will forever be part of the history here, so, please, don't cry when things come to an end. Please don't become filled with emotion of distraught and nostalgia because these things are left to naught. They are not what defines these moments left behind. Left to time and left for more beautiful people to maybe read about our affairs, the mystery, and happiness engraved there. History are we, the people who've read, the people who've written, and the people we've spoken about of these months and weeks and years. Don't feel sad when the boat finally comes to a halt because it's over, feel happy that we can move on beyond what we could ever be. The potential we could ever achieve. Poetry, out.
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“You know, Malthus, soon there won’t be any room for us?” Penguin, sat next to the other Oracle having arrived back home just days prior. “The writer sees the future before our present is written.”
“...but there’s always room for us. He hasn’t even planned the future quite yet…” Malthus began drawing in the air, his gold essence stuck around him while he put minute touches on his work. “This world will always make room for people like us and it’ll only get bigger.”
“Shall we let the children play amongst themselves? The sub grows, we should join,” Penguin said nearly to herself. It made Malthus stop in mid-stroke.
“Should we? New king. Be free. This fate, ‘t’is us, ‘t’is we. Let us do this.” Malth stood on his pillow; Penguin did the same. “They watch us. Let us put on a show. Let it be known.”
The two clasped hands. The maroon and gold ethereal glimmer came over each other’s hands, eventually mixing and developing their hands and arms. The two melted into their corresponding colors. The glittering colors shot to the ceiling of the massive hall and came crashing down on the floor. The maroon hit to the left and the gold hit to the right. After the glow had dispersed, it revealed two users looking somewhat like they had looked prior, but without their oracle apparel. They wore commoner’s clothes and were no longer carrying the auras that once surrounded them.
“Ugh, I forgot what it feels like to be mortal,” he spoke to her.
“O, lord Daron, it feels odd.” Penguin flicked out her hands and shook them for a bit. “Feels… Feels… less responsible.”
Malthus kicked open the door to the hallway that reached to the citadel's main lobby They noticed a forgotten office with a neatly arranged stack of napkins on its desk. The doors of Mt. Hiatus opened.
Submitted October 05, 2018 at 05:28AM by PoetryAreWe https://ift.tt/2zSG63c
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