Chapter: King VI

Yes, I suspect the chapter lacks quality. But I finally wanted to get the creature off my PC, it annoyed me endlessly. Wargh, terrible. Well, you have to live with it, haha.

***

Somehow this statement annoys me immensely.Powerless because I am powerful.What a successful play on words.
I would love to give him a hard shake to finally dissuade him from the crazy idea that something should be more special about me than someone else. Well, because of me, I had powers that set me apart in a certain way. But what else is, as he says, unique about me?
With horror, I feel a deep sadness rise in me - once again.
The only thing that is special about me was her.

"... and now your good friend Ryan Ope will say a few words. Ryan." The director gives me a serious look through his black-rimmed glasses, and I nod and slowly step onto the stage. Again in a suit, again in front of everyone - only this time without Leia.I swallow hard and put my hands on the small podium on which the microphone is placed. I need every hold that this hammered piece of wood can give me, and even if it's completely nonsensical, I feel a little reassured.
The smell of dozens of flowers almost numbs me and the loud whirring of the slide projector, which projects Leia's face larger than life size on a white screen behind me, displaces all the words I've come up with over the past few days. Nothing remains but limitless emptiness and the feeling of being terribly out of place - here without her.
"Leia was," I begin, and my words echo a hundredfold through the whole hall, breaking the silence that has fallen over those present, "something very special in every way." I pause and clear my throat softly Glancing past all the pitying pairs of eyes that weigh on me. "She loved walking in the rain.Because of this, she was constantly ill in the fall and had a cold, but she could not be dissuaded from it. She always said it was God's way of caressing us. "My voice is getting weaker and I clear my throat again. A lump forms in my throat and I swallow hard." She knew poems by heart once she had read them. And she spent a lot of time in the summer lying on her back on the grass and looking at the clouds. “My voice is shaking and I press my hands a little tighter on the worn wood.” When she smiled, you just had to smile back. "I swallow again and look down on my hands, which are clenched into fists so tightly that my knuckles poke out white and my fingernails cut into my hand." She hated talking about death. She always said death would come soon enough, and when it does, words are superfluous anyway. "With great effort I loosen my fingers and slowly slide them into the pockets of my pants."I thank God for every second that I was allowed to spend with her."
Under the pressure of the heavy looks on me, I slowly step back from the podium and slowly walk down the stairs again. This time without a cape. And without Leia.
With a blank look I sit down again and lower my eyelids.... and I curse him for taking it from me so early.

A big lump has formed in my throat and although this time I was halfway responsive in the middle of the memory and the last impressions passed me by in a shadowy way, the effect lasts almost longer this time. As if in a trance, I sit there and stare in front of myself, the look just as expressionless as on that day in the accursed gym - how ridiculous - where a kind of vigil was held in Leia's honor. How would she have scoffed at it.
"Orion", Dismas says urgently and I feel his golden yellow eyes on me like insects sticking to me, "I need you."I slowly raise my head and look at him. "I don't think that's a particularly good basic attitude," I answer flatly, "everyone who somehow needed me only suffered from it."
The expression of his gaze changes, becomes a little worried. “Thanks for the warning,” he replies, slightly mocking, “but I have no choice but to rely on your help.” He hesitates and frowns a little. "You will help me, won't you?"
I sigh and look away again. "Of course I'll help you."
His face is reflected in the window pane and he doesn't seem completely satisfied. "Thank you," he says anyway, as he slowly walks to the door and thus disappears from my field of vision, "and by the way, it's comforting that your eyes are blue again."
He disappeared out the door before I can say anything, and I only look after him for a moment before I automatically look for my reflection in the window pane.It is a desolate and strange sight, the way I stare in front of me with drooping shoulders, sunken cheeks and bleary eyes - a completely different man than the one I have previously thought myself to be. And not one that you would particularly like to get to know.
Shaking my head, I look away. Not a particularly clever idea to mourn the past times - whatever - all the time. I sigh softly and put my legs up again, back to the position Dismas found me. I slowly close my eyes and quietly hope that I can at least get some sleep - when 'calm' has already become a state that seems quite simply utopian.
Despite this uncomfortable thought - or perhaps because of it - I almost instantly fall into an almost comatose sleep, which is largely due to my exhaustion.

This time, for a change, I am woken up by a quiet throat clearing, and when I open my eyes in a daze and look around me like a sleepy owl, my gaze falls on a row of messengers who stand devoutly around the couch and make solemn faces.The curtains are drawn and through the thick fabric I can see the sun, which must be in the sky - apparently it is day and I actually slept a little.
As if the thought had been enough to wash away the last traces of lack of sleep from me, I am suddenly wide awake and sit up. Everyone standing in front of me frowns in sync, a sight that makes me smile. Seeing these similar faces with exactly the same facial expression is like standing in a mirror maze and really amuses me, even if I don't really understand why. My psyche just seems to be a little unstable, so that no matter what I'm feeling at the moment, the sensation is increased many times over.
"Sire", one of them finally says in a slightly indignant way, while I am still fooling around like a moron, "your eyes ..."
Oh yes, right. It is day My laughter fades as quickly as it came and I look down for a second."Nothing that should worry you," I answer calmly and quietly hope that my voice sounds as convincing as I would like it to be.
Whether out of respect or because they actually believe me - they obediently put on a "normal" face and do not comment on my unusual appearance.
"We found a rose," one of them finally told me, who has extremely short hair. They are only about an inch long and encircle his head like a furry helmet. "But only him. No one else."
"Indeed?" I follow up and get up quickly, no longer able to sit so idle because of the adrenaline that suddenly rushes through my veins. "Where is he? When can I see him? Where did you find him?"
The messenger exchanges a look with one of the others, who has unevenly longer hair - it just comes down to his bottom and curls gently, which gives him almost feminine features from behind. However, this impression is belied by his distinctive facial features, which are in stark contrast to his hairstyle."In the park," replies this messenger slowly, "by a lake."
A bitter smile crosses my face. At the lake, of course, where else too. "Thank you."
They nod and walk out of the room one by one. The last two - who seem to know each other a little better than the rest - I hold back with a wave of the hand. "What are you names?"
Again they exchange a look. "Cedric," replies the one with the short hair. "Joe," says the other.
I nod to them and try to memorize their faces. "I thank you."
"You don't have to," Joe replies seriously, and before I can reply, Cedric adds: "We'll bring you the rosary." And then the two of them have disappeared through the door.
Excitement flows through my body like electricity and puts me in a state that is difficult to control. Fortunately, I am human - otherwise I would probably burn down the whole building without being able to prevent it. So I just pace through the room like a caged animal and wait eagerly for every sound.Then, finally, I hear the familiar creak of the door and drive around.
My eyes bulge out at least two inches and it almost seems like a miracle that my eyeballs don't land on the floor with a full "clong".

Their smell is confusing, not their original, very own scent. I can still smell the aroma of her rose shampoo, but her personal smell is barely noticeable, covered by a strange mixture of sweat and musk that makes me angry. I close my eyes and press back the welling tears that are only too happy to fall on the floor to report my weakness.
"Where have you been?" I ask instead, making sure that we still have some distance between us. Touching her would be unbearable now.
"I ... I was ..." The guilt is clearly written on her face, but the pain that is reflected in her eyes because of my rejection is even stronger.My heart spasms - on the one hand, because I am suddenly certain with irrefutable certainty that she has betrayed me. On the other hand, and this part is almost bigger than the other, because I can't stand to see her suffer. Her pain hits me even more than my own pain, the emotional torment that she feels because of me.
“Where?” My voice is harsh and I make no attempt to soften it even a tad. She cheated on me, even several times - and how did I find out? Because of one of her adventures that waved her bra in front of my nose! And here she stands now, her smell still masked by his, and expects forgiveness from me!
"I'm so sorry, Ryan," she says quietly and fixes her gaze on me pleadingly, "so sorry."
Why ?! I actually want to scream, why the hell did you do that ?!
Instead, I gather all the disgust inside me