From: "macha" Date: Wed Jan 1, 2003 1:37 am Subject: winter king triad at year end WINTER KING TRIAD AT YEAR END the winter king sits brooding in his counting house and counts up sins and she is one childe of his body he remembers her as water changeable and wild trickling down and leaving riverbeds behind her wormhole workings while desolate she decimates the world that lies before her clapping clever hands and laughing with delight Angelus sang his litany of art against her innocence destroyed her and remade her damned and left her here exquisitely unblinded cursed with her purity of second sight and Angel offered fire in which to burn as he still burns but left her here to wander all alone through the cold world of living men that she can only eat but never own again the winter king sits brooding in his house of eyes and counts up penances and she is one his dark childe losing everything she loved to his unholy commedia conceit of murderous madness she dances with him still in dreams whirling through plague halls in red ball gowns with her mask in place so beautiful inhuman with her head thrown back and laughing bathed in blood and, mad, still innocent still wanting children to play with singing her happy songs of bloody death and torment she was the masterpiece he painted and must now take down she wanted to be loved with family around her clean in the eyes of god and is so lonely in the world to which he has abandoned her bewildered always an obedient child with branding irons and wholesale slaughter she was remade into this sweet swaying dancer of red ruin what is the penance due that will pay for that? hungry they are these childer he has left her with the marks he made meticulously sired and shaped greedy for life designed for blood but built with pain and everlasting ... the winter king sits brooding in his hunting hall and counts up sins and he is two childe of his Heart he is remembered now as fire his spirit changeable and wild heir to the poetry of dead slayers he left style behind him taking whatever he wanted from the world he viewed as entertainment amused amusing bloodied and unbowed Angelus sang his litany of pain against his innocence and then remade him damned and left him here exquisitely unskinned and bound cursed with that depth of feeling and Angel offered nothing but the stake in which to dust as he will dust but left him here to navigate his destiny alone in the cold world of living men who will not stake him or accept him or forgive him the winter king sits brooding in his house of glass and counts up penances and he is one his dark childe losing everything he loved to that conceit he had that first he must be broken he dances with him still in dreams they wage war against one another across all of europe unleash fist and fangs and never get or give quarter brutalized buggered beaten he never learned his lessons he never gave up never gave in never gave over himself coming up for more each time he threw him down blood all around but challenge in his eyes that saw him clear and found him wanting to the end running on instinct and still pure somewhere inside as he was never pure he was the masterpiece he painted and must now take down he wanted to be loved with family around him clean in the eyes of god and is so lonely in the world to which he has been abandoned bewildered loving child he taught with branding irons and wholesale slaughter thought he had remade him into this charming elegant dancer of red ruin what is the penance due that will pay for that? hungry they are these childer he has left her with the marks he made meticulously sired and shaped greedy for life designed for blood but built with pain and everlasting ... the winter king sits brooding in his courtyard and he counts up sins and she is three childe of his soul he remembers her as earth and air so changeable and wild carrying light before her on the field of battle full of grace she gave forgave and died and killed him doing her duty to keep the balance of the world before her an elemental life and never meant for him Angelus sang his litany of art against her innocence and then tried to remake her damned to relive guilt for those who died because she could not kill the other and left her here for him exquisitely uniquely burdened with all she knew about Angelus in him cursed to love and bound again by pain but pledged eternally to light and Angel offered barren ground for love in which he turns as he still turns inside but left her here to wander all alone through the cold world of living men that she can only save but never savor the winter king sits brooding in his empty house of grain and counts up penances and she is one his child of light still losing everything she loved to his unholy hold caught in his dead conceit of pomegranate seeds she dances with him still in dreams her swordplay still impeccable his mark upon her neck still claiming mastery of she who masters air and lives inside a dream so beautiful it hurts to have known her once to see her meant for sunlight always lost to him and marks of his tenancy clear in her eyes her heart her body and her soul Angelus could not see but tried to take still beautiful but guarded now against him and remote she was the masterpiece he painted and must now take down she wanted to be loved with family around her clean in the eyes of god and is so lonely in the world to which he has abandoned her to memories of evil in the hearts of men and monsters pretty lies and slaughter she has been remade into this sweet spinning dancer of red ruin what is the penance due that will pay for that? hungry they are these childer he has left her with the marks he made meticulously sired and shaped greedy for life designed for blood but built with pain and everlasting the winter king sits brooding in his throne room counting wounds that will never heal the undisputed master of the world around him sits awhile and contemplates ungrateful children the one he cannot seem to dust has pitied him the prospect and is gone to ground the one who stole his glory and his destiny by venturing to Africa is captive but still free the one who stole his heart and may yet claim his dust is lost except to memory all three are lost in time but will not let him be each time they meet he sees in their clear eyes some final judgment it's not the demon that needs killing, it's the man the game he played so carefully may yet fall to the boy the prize he wanted he will never have the winter king sits brooding in his mausoleum cold and getting steadily colder counting another year never to have or hold the grail he chose to shelter macha macha@ntl.sympatico.ca 1st draft 28 dec 2002 2nd draft 1 jan 2003