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Solaris · 06-21-2016, 10:36 AM

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It was pure white, the walls and sky infinitely bleeding into each other, the only specks that suggested the presence of existing being seven humans, a bird, an urn, and what seemed to be a corpse.

A TURN BACK

Chad's eyes met those of Imago Dei, both could see through their respective masks, but the roles were set. Prince and angel, standing in the center stage, all eyes on them, whether willingly or no, the stage, no, the entire theater flowing with an energy unlike any other. The two make an exchange in that moment, information flowing freely from one to the other, and the intentions are clear.

Imago Dei will die by the hands of Chad Chaswell Charles.

Chad Chaswell Charles will die by the words of Imago Dei.

Two truths told at the same time, both absolute, with a flawless conviction perfectly crafted and for a moment they are both true.

A PRINCE PERISHES

In a moment of weakness, the red headed time traveler is unable to make that final push and wield his unholy blade to kill the final, one and true angel. His blade drops to the ground and his role unfulfilled, failed. The Demonic Prince who came with the horrible intentions of slaying a beautiful and holy being out of jealousy is foiled. The town rejoices as the last angel finally frees them from the pitiful, unending torment that is each and every one of their lives.

In the Company of Full-Stop Angels finally ends and Il Maledicta doors are open, with adventurous sort exploring the ruinous theater, only to find corpses, weirdly fresh, with no explanation as to how they got there, in a theater simultaneously ruinous and maintained.

There were signs of a fire, but that too, seemed to have just vanished.

Rumors would spread, wondering what went on in Il Maledicta, how the doors came to be opened after such a long, long time. How ripe all of the resources hidden inside seemed to be, clean and healthy. It couldn't have been a disease, everyone who explored the abandoned theater felt fine, though wading through the corpses left them uneasy.

Eventually, people stopped going to the theater, man believing its riches to be long stripped and no one bothering to deal with the many corpses.

One day, an adventurer entered the theater, and found something peculiar. It was too books, both labeled the same, exact replicas of one another front and back. However, upon opening them, they found the contents to be very different, down to the ending.

The adventurer could find no more copies of the book, and no one they went to could discern which one was the true copy of In the Company of Full-Stop Angels.

ANOTHER TURN BACK

"Hector, wake the fuck up."

Groggily, the man woke up, his head still in pain.

"It is time to move in for the closer," the bird told the man.

"Pardon?"

"The final step of the plan, if we are to emerge victorious, you must enter the stage."

"As what?"

Nestor flapped off of Hector, made his way to a tree costume, and then stared at him expectantly.

And so a tree entered a stage in motion, with a cute parrot perched on top.

There was no notice paid to this tree, as who would bother paying attention to a tree when The Prince was confronting Yet Another Angel.

PARDON ME?

Imago Dei could not contain himself, HE FELT THE CALL, the call that drew him to the theater he had taken for himself, long after the first copy of In the Company of Full-Stop Angels had been lost, after the many, many forgeries had been made and proliferated. He stayed and watched, generation after generation, seeing the two layers of Il Maledicta bleed on to each other, wondering if he would ever see his precious play performed perfectly. And he would know if it wasn't, after all, he had The first edition.

A final angel descends, more holy and more impressive than the last, and brings the curtain fall shortly after.

Imago Dei allowed the call of the theater to pull him in, his excitement well outweighing any risks/the no risks/it's just a play/there's no danger/at least not to him/he would be fine.

A TURN FORWARD

|Two copies, perfect in every way, one held by the Prince and one held by the Angel, produced at the same moment both almost shining despite their raggedness.

PRINCE: It seems like it is not our texts that will decide out fates, but our actions.

ANGEL: So it seems indeed. *Laughter*

PRINCE: I wield this blade against you false angel, bringer of decay, but as a man of mercy, I give you a final chance, reveal your true form, and allow the justice of the lord to come down upon you.

ANGEL: There is no true form other than that which lays before you, if you truly believe me to be a demon, then there is nothing I can do. Wield your blade all you like, I am an ANGEL, no wound a mortal can give will kill me.

|The Angel's hands are held out wide, as if waiting for embrace.

PRINCE: Then by the power invested in me, by the lord, and my holy lineage, I will take this blade, the blade of the people, and slay you, false idol!

THRUST

Many bore witness to the moment in which the Red Haired Prince, a Hero in so many ways, thrust his blade into the False Angel, bringing an end to In the Company of Full-Stop Angels. As the righteous blade was thrust into the beautiful but dark creature, a smile, pristine but twisted could be seen from the false angels lips. There was a bright flash, with white light flowing outward and encompassing everything and everyone as the curtains closed for the first time in the history of Il Maledicta.

And the show was over. They could move on.

But first, there was applause. Two hands clapping then four then sixteen then an uncountable number producing a sound like a thunder that could scare the gods themselves away. Many say that it was the force of this applause that blew out the flames that had begun to spread. No one cared where the flames came from, nor did they care for any of the rivalries of the past. In the Company of Full-Stop Angels had ended and it was time for after party like no other.

None of the angels were to be seen, nor was the show stealing prince, but that was not enough to deter the joyous people of Il Maledicta. This was a production unlike any other, spanning years, generations, and they finally pulled it off. A show that had a power all of its own, that came to life in ways that no show ever could again, a true masterpiece had been witnessed by all, and they felt moved.

Tales spread about how the mysterious theater had opened its doors, and welcomed any and all with open arms and with so many stories to tell, and slowly, the theater changed. Over time, Il Maledicta began to serve a purpose much more noble, a hub for the lost, a place where one could just sit around and listen to the stories of the legendary production and recover from the woes of the world outside.

There were some that tried to disrupt or corrupt the peace of the place, but these were all effortlessly rebutted. It was as if inside the halls of the grand theater there were guardian angels ensuring that no harm befell upon it.

AND SO IT ENDS

Chad Chasewell Charles, Sam Wun, Hector dressed as a tree with Nestor Notabilis still perched on him, the nameless person, Lavi Lannon, Carlie Levenson, and Zia holding an urn all stood in the whiteness, staring at the corpse of Imago Dei.

Chad walked closer to the corpse of the god (?) he had slain. He kicked it, still fearful of whatever power it could hold, especially given that he no longer had the plot armor granted by his copy of In the Company of Full-Stop Angels. After a moment, he rummaged through Imago's corpse, and took the other copy of the play.

Lavi and Hector were shocked that the plan had worked, Nestor was cackling with pure glee, Carlie had no idea what had happened but still felt distrustful of Chad, Sam and Zia had even less of an idea of what was going on, and the urn was still there.

Chad smirked, running his fingers through his hair and taking a breath. "Well team, it looks like we did it."

It was not celebratory nor was it reassuring, but it was silencing. As Chad stood, his eyes wandering from person to person to corpse to person, he knew the feeling that was flowing through the whiteness around them.

Disatisfaction.

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