[attr="class","jdappbody2"]

[attr="class","jdappbody3"]

how can midas put his hands on me again?

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there is a silence in that broken apartment, a worn down bedroom. the paint has discarded itself in patches along the wall. the furniture is in shambles, the crimson soaks into the soft flooring. it is seemingly void of the living, as if resonating a lifeless dream, there is a silver that stirs. from the rigid closet, does that small child force it open. blood smears against his feet, the aftermath of tears evident upon his eyes. so much red-- and yet nothing was there. though the child knew, very well, what had happened.
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the situation was never resolved. when help finally came, what had been discovered was the missing father. the only family which had been left. despite their attempts at search, they could only come forth with the hypothesis that this strange disappearance had been the result of some sort of shady organization. one of many mafias, or perhaps the rarity of a coven. with what little evidence they had, it was left to be forgotten. but, the youth had never forgotten. if the older would not listen to his words, he would find a way to deal with it in the future.
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a looming tower-- a place for those with no home. the orphanage wasn't exactly the greatest start, yet it was better than nothing. he found refuge in friendship, in learning the secrets of magic and the wonders that lay with the covens. though it had seemed all fun and games, his desire for revenge still flared as brightly as the smile which adorned his lips. aside longing for a substitute family, horrible impressions were made in order to remain in place. no matter how lonely it was. or how painful the weight was, tormenting his fragile heart. he would do it.
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"one day i'd realize why i don't have friends".

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he had but one clue-- a golden bell. an item as small and feeble as this was an impossible solution, then again, what this symbolized held much significance to what he was searching for. as the years passed, more freedom was gained. he'd delve deeper and deeper into his search. at last an emblem was discovered. something at which was only unique towards the grouping of jesters. a harmless and seemingly carefree coven. it didn't make sense. how could these people be responsible for the death of his father?
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perhaps a group alone hadn't been responsible. after all-- it had been one body at fault for the loss of another. still did he desperately unravel the pages, hoping to find the one which would feel the wrath of his anger. his revenge. though a darkening path, did he find the light. one that had known what he had been looking for. apart of a mafia, yet also apart of a coven. it seemed unavoidable that someone such as this could ever escape the clutches of becoming an eventual murderer. a great friend-- protective over the coven. yet oddly, had disappeared.
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wiped from the face of the planet-- he didn't believe it. after all this struggle, after all these attempts. the bastard that had taken away what family he had left had simply vanished? there was no way. another determination aroused in the clouded and broken heart. if he could not find the gone, he'd simply draw it out from the shadows. striven by chaos and eventual destruction. it was especially easy in regards to the fact such a place was so open in accepting strangers. welcoming into the new 'home'.
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