Upon the Throne of Sacrifice
Copyright© 2016 by path4334
Books littered the floor, pages torn, left laying on their faces, wide open. The room was dim, a candle sat on a desk, standing within the solitary confinement of shadows. One individual sat at the desk, his back facing the front of his bed.
It was midnight. Most people were in bed, lying within the comforts of their dreams. However, unlike the average person, scribbling into the morning was an individual who was anything but, ordinary.
The sound of writing filled the air, growing louder as it went on, and on. Written-ramblings were painted upon papers, pinned across walls.
A screeching sound gave through, as a chair was scooted backwards, giving enough leverage needed for someone to move from their chair. Articulated movements were expected, he understood the distance between him and his bookcase.
He moved across his room like a cat – elegant and soft. Each foot was looking for a hole within the pile, an opening for support. He eventually reached his destination, eyeing each shelf with a hunger and passion. Although, he had trouble seeing.
His name is Arthur.
Arthur leered at each shelf, wondering and looking for a specific book. As he searched for the book, he heard his door being opened. He glanced at the door, waiting for the first few steps he would see. He turned back to the bookcase, still searching.
Arthur sighed as he identified the person. '' ... What could you possibly need?'' Arthur said, pinching his nose in mild irritation.
''I see your patience hasn't improved.'' A feminine tinge, shot itself through the air, and into his ear.
Arthur's eye twitched. ''I don't have any time for you, or your idiocy. Do you need something? If you don't – I can show you where the door is.'' Arthur barked, frowning with his back facing her.
The woman ignored him, moving swiftly across the pile of books, finding a good place to sit on his bed.
''Ellen, I'm ... uhhh looking for a book, have you seen it?'' Arthur questioned, an awry expression on his face.
''Arthur, look at the pile behind you, and look at that bookcase, also – most of the shelves are empty, what are you looking at?'' Ellen responded, an expression of deadpan.
''I ... I'm not looking through that wretched pile.'' Arthur spoke, giving an expression of horror. He understood most of his books were lying on the floor, but still, that didn't mean he wanted to go deep-sea-diving in his own room.
''Well ... regardless, I'm here to deliver a parcel.'' Ellen said, her nose crinkled in amusement.
''Haaaaa, what is it?''
''It's just a letter, nothing special.''
Ellen shuffled in her maid outfit, taking the parcel out of her pocket and handing it over to Arthur.
Arthur took the parcel and nonchalantly tossed it into the pile of books. Ellen quirked an eyebrow, now she knew where he put all of his letters.
Ellen shook her head in amusement, a small smile on her face. ''Now that I know where you put your letters – I should be going.'' She got up off the bed, moved across the sea of literature, and began to open the door-
''Um, before you go, can I tell you something?'' Arthur requested, a guarded, awry smile.
Ellen stopped turning the knob and gave him a questioning look.
Arthur gave a warm smile. ''I hope you know I appreciate everything you do for me.'' Arthur sent a wide smile towards Ellen.
Ellen nodded in response, a slight smile on her face. ''Yes, I believe you should appreciate me – after all, not everyone can put up with your horrible attitude.'' She smirked. ''Oh, and before I go, that book you're looking for – the brown one, right? It's over there, to the right of you.''
As Arthur hear the sound of heels clacking, he turned to thank her, but all he caught was the sight of her burgundy hair, whipping behind her, before the door was slammed shut.
He smiled, smelling the lingering traces of her perfume. Arthur shook his head, he needed to get back to his own devices.
It was almost morning, Arthur walked over the pile, towards his desk. He sat down, letting the comfort of the chair hug his form.
Just in front of him was a window, brown and simple. Red curtains dawned at the middle and split off at the end. Arthur stared out into the evening, basking in the presence of a rising sun. He rubbed his eyes and stretched, pulling each tense muscle and relaxing himself.
His eyes dimmed, feeling tired, he felt he had a few more minutes before passing out, so – he supposed reading the letter wouldn't hurt.
Arthur stood up, almost tripping over his books and went deep-sea-diving. He sunk his long arms into the depths of the pile and pulled out the letter.
He quickly opened it and unfolded the paper. His eyes narrowed and he took a step back. This letter was very, very, serious. As a general he understood some of the responsibilities that came along with his position. Still – if everything he read here was true, then he would have to be ready for an early morning.
Arthur's hand glowed, and all of the books were raised into the air and stacked on top of each other. Wind flowed around his black hair and whipped it around. Eventually it died down, most of the books were still on the ground, but at least he could move towards his closet.
He pulled some clothes from out of his closet and laid them on top of the chair in front of his desk. He turned around and began a trek towards his bed.
As Arthur lied on his bed, he felt an apprehensive feeling in his gut. It was almost morning, he hoped he could get a few hours of sleep before waking up. Tomorrow would be a long day, for Arthur, and Ellen.