“Say, that Wilhelm lad is very off....” “What is with his neck??” “I'm not going to talk to him. I don't like his energy” “His hair is red like the colour of my blood boiling from me seeing him” “Why was he chosen to play the princess? He looks like he should be playing the evil stepmother!

The words echoed through the boy's ears. The red-haired boy, Wilhelm, had no choice but to continue walking. He was carrying a dress, and his mind is focusing on one thing: auditions.

Just another day at school. And yet, better here than home, whatever it is.

Wilhelm never understood why the von Strauss clan took him in. For years, all he endured are plain brutalities. There was little love. And when exceptions happened, such as his brother Sigmund and cousin Hilda, they too received plain brutalities.

And yet, despite the brutalities, Wilhelm was allowed to attend the prestigious, upper-class Bifrost Academy —— allegedly blessed by Ymir himself, keyword allegedly.

”.....” Wilhelm stood in silence at the gates of Ymir Academy. His shark-shaped eyes and mournful eyebrows judged the exterior. It looked like the von Strauss home.

“Wim? What is it?” A blue-haired, fresh-faced, bespectacled young man stood besides him. Sigmund was excited to be educated in such an excellent school, but as soon as he saw Wilhelm in a face that disagrees with him, it became clear that Sigmund should be considerate with Wilhelm's feelings.

”...What? Nothing” Wilhelm looked at Sigmund's worrying face. He knew that Sigmund was excited to be in this school. “Stop worrying” Wilhelm continued, then changed his face into a stern look.

Wilhelm then stepped into the school. Sigmund sighs and smiled as he followed Wilhelm. Maybe this will make things better, Sigmund thought.

It was four years ago.

“Ah! Wilhelm! Come, come, it's your turn” A messy-haired middle aged man called. Wilhelm walked onto the stage of the school theatre.

“This is for Princess Christianne, Director Hartmann” the man's assistant said to him. “Interesting!” the man —– Director Hartmann —– continued. “Susanne recommended you for this role, let's see what you can do as the mournful Princess Christianne”

Wilhelm stepped into the most lit part of the stage. Both director Hartmann and his assistant Susanne can see Wilhelm clearly in his outfit and make-up. With a beautiful short red hair, white dress that held his body and clad in soft make-up, the young red-haired mournful-looking boy now looked like a snow white beauty.

“Is this too much, Director?” Susanne asked to Hartmann, after seeing how Wilhelm's make-up looked like on stage lights. “No. It looked just right” he responded, “This boy's features and paleness works well with Princess Christianne's fragility”

Fragile, that was the word that they described for the role of 'Princess Christianne'. But it is also the word that everyone used to describe Wilhelm.

“He looked exactly how I pictured Princess Christianne breaking down in her dungeon” Susanne continued,

“Alright, enough of this looks discussion. Let's see what you can do.” Hartmann said to Wilhelm, “As I've ordered, have you learned your lines for Scene 15?”

“Yes” Wilhelm responded.

“Great, let's start from the beginning” Hartmann continued.

Wilhelm then did his best approximation of a fragile princess mourning the death of her prince. As he was doing his audition, he thought of the word 'Fragile'.

The time was one year ago. As a yearly tradition, Ymir Academy holds “Merchant Day”, where each class forms groups of students to sell unique things. The grouping system was done to include those who couldn't create things, they can help the merchant

“Oi! Oi! This is all oranges, I need apples, lots of them!” A burly boy yelled at Wilhelm, who had just carried two boxes of oranges.

“You...told me to bring oranges” Wilhelm responded, with his face staying in wide-eyed blank stern-ness. The boy's face quickly shifted from annoyance into fear.

”....Oh, yeah, s-sorry...that was a sudden change” The boy apologized, possibly fearing for his safety upon seeing Wilhelm's blank stare. It looked like there's an air of disappointment, sadness, weep, and malevolence in one expression, “W-why don't you go to the cafeteria and ask Ms. Kirschenbaum? No one's at the cafeteria anyway....” the boy continued.

“Alright”, Wilhelm responded, while he walked calmly into the cafeteria. Then on his way to the main hallway, he was stopped.

“HAHAHA!”, a sporty-bodied boy laughed as he shoved Wilhelm into the wall. “Damn, this red boy's sturdy!” the boy shouted in annoyance, “You lied to me, asshole”, the boy said to his friend, also a sporty-bodied boy. The other boy seemed annoyed, until he noticed Wilhelm's bandaged neck.

“Look at his neck”, the other boy pointed. The boy smiled, and shoved Wilhelm to the ground while grabbing his hair.

For Wilhelm, this is one of the less painful things that one can do to him. And as such, he did not utter a single shout of pain. Father gives me worse beatings, this is nothing, Wilhelm thought. But this time, this act of small violence against him had Wilhelm felt threatened.

My neck, I can't let them grab it Wilhelm shouted to himself, then attempted to grab the boys' arms. But it was no use.

“Let's see what this edgy little pussy is hiding!!” the other boy exclaimed while opening the bandages.

Immediately, everything went silent. Wilhelm couldn't hear anything, not even his scream. For a few minutes, everything was nothing in Wilhelm's senses, until he bandaged his neck back. As he regained his senses, he stood up, and was horrified

The two boys was frozen in shock, and their bodies started to crack like statues. The sight of two human beings, cracking, was enough to send Wilhelm into a loud shout.

It was lucky that the school's principal was a Government-licensed magist that he could reverse the change. Miraculously, Wilhelm was not given any form of punishment.

But at home, it is a different story full of scars and pain. Such is life for Wilhelm von Strauss.

Wilhelm's performance for the audition was something that directors always refer to as “spellbinding”, even though it was painful for him to act while horrible memories of pain permeated his brain. I wasn't acting, I was angry, he mused to himself.

“Brilliant!” Hartmann exclaimed while clapping. Susanne's face turned into a smile full of gratitude, with her hands signaling the expression of “Yes! This worked!”

Wilhelm's face shifted into his normal cold face, but with tears running through his cheeks. But his fake tears weren't real tears. Pain had taught him to not cry, as tears won't uplift anything.

“You nailed her.” Hartmann praised to Wilhelm, “You perfectly portrayed her distress and mourning at the same time, as well as her wailing.....you are perfect. I didn't imagine Princess Christianne with a red hair, but now I see her with a beautiful red hair like yours”, he continued.

Wilhelm nodded in agreement, and he was permitted to leave. He could faintly hear Hartmann and Susanne coming into an agreement.

“We found Princess Christianne”

Now Wilhelm can play as a victim while living his life as one.

#writetober #OCs #WinstonSmith #WilhelmVonStrauss #LotusOperetta #edentrius #writing

“What time...is it.”

“Where am I”

“What am I….”

The myriad of questions echoed through the empty hallways of Purgatorio. It is a normal sight. Time, Space, Life, Death….Purgatorio does not register such concepts.

Purgatorio does have an ‘end’, that is, the Den of the Judge. The den of the Judge is where such concepts come back to existence. Of course, the Judge returns such concepts to judge the inhabitants of Purgatorio. For the Judge, he treats Purgatorio as a waiting room for souls to be judged.

One such soul, a man formerly known as Andreyev, who inhabited Purgatorio for ten years, but he did not feel it. Time does not exist in Purgatorio. Until this moment.

“■■■■■”

He heard a call being made in a language he does not recognize, nay, the language does not sound like any human language. But his soul prompted him to walk into the call. As he understood later on, the language is the language of the Gods, that the human soul understood, but not the brain.

As Andreyev walks towards the end of the hallway, his sense of time, space, life, and death returns. He had realized that ten years have gone by since his death. He reached the double door at the end of the hallway, where he looked at the angels guarding it. The angels' form looked off for Andreyev, as they looked more like skeletal remains of human beings, plastered with angel wings, halos, human eyes inscribed on skulls, and floating rings circling around their arms. To him, they looked like mannequins in a costume parlour.

“■■■■■, ■■■■■■■■■■■■” The angel on his left announced, while opening the door. Andreyev finds it strange that afterwards, the angel made an old-school chivalric gesture of letting him in. He guessed that the angel had seen Andreyev’s mind and felt that he was frightened, and needed a warm welcome.

Andreyev entered the Den where he finds a throne made up of skeletal remains, though they were meticulously crafted that it forms a rather regal throne, akin to the old Russian czars. Red-colored velvet graced the entire room, with black being the primary color of the Den. Purple and brown also graced the room, with fancy British-styled interiors wearing the colors, while draping it with skulls and roses. The den looks like the settlement of a British royalty.

The feeling of it all culminated in the figure on the throne himself. It is a God, in the form of a human being. This man is presumably The Judge. One thing that Andreyev has caught from his glimpse of the Judge was pure sadness. His sickly-looking face, crumpled with wrinkles, with double eyebags brings him an image of a perpetually melancholic old man, with his shark-shaped eyes and slanted eyebrows giving him the look of perpetual anger.

The face is packaged with wavy red hair. Beautiful, yet pitiful, Andreyev thought, but his clothing washed away Andreyev’s melancholic thoughts of the Judge. A long leather coat, filled with tight belts hugged the Judge’s body, but the coat itself looked skimpy, as it allowed the Judge to walk with his thighs and back exposed. Am I meant to find him pitiful or….attractive? Andreyev thought to himself. Certainly not the romantic and erotic kind of attractive, but the kind that makes you drawn to him. I feel that I should either pity him or be drawn to him. But he is beautiful. Like a melancholic bride.

‘Beauty’ was the word that Andreyev’s mind had conjured. The Judge’s form did not frighten him, nor did he inspire any forms of rebellious thoughts. He does not look authoritative somehow. To Andreyev, he looked like a groom-less bride in grief, being left alone in the altar. As the thought conjures up, a vision flashes to his brain.

Andreyev sees the man clad in a beautiful Bridal dress. White dress that covered his torso, and yet, exposed his startlingly-thick thighs, only veiled with a thin petticoat. His hair now becomes startlingly-long wavy hair, clad in veil.

Of course, it might be an illusion, but it looked real. Somehow, Andreyev sees the Judge wearing his coat and the bridal outfit at the same time. He registered both of them as truth.

“■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■, ■■■■■■■■■” A skeletal angel announced to the Judge, however this time, Andreyev was able to comprehend what it was saying, “A nothing person, your honor”

The Judge walked into Andreyev, and the only thing that permeated Andreyev’s mind was that the Judge was surprisingly shorter than him. The Judge must’ve been a tight five foot nine. Another thing he had noticed is that the Judge seemed to be wearing nothing underneath his coat. Andreyev’s vision still sees the Judge as both the pitiful old man and the beautiful bride.

“Ten years….” the Judge began to speak. Andreyev felt a rush of emotions in his soul. The Judge’s voice sends Andreyev into a divine jolt. “Nothing is a long wait in Purgatorio….”

The Judge’s posh, gravelly voice felt like honey, mixed with acid and red wine, that produces an authoritative, yet heavenly sonorous quality. the Judge puts the palm of his right hand onto his left shoulder, and closes his eyes. The Judge’s face, for Andreyev, now turns into a look of mourning. As the Judge inspects Andreyev, he felt a stream of thorns locking into the Judge’s legs. Roses began to bloom. The Judge’s outfit shifted into the bridal dress. My thoughts weren’t playing with me. It was real.

Long time had gone by, and the Judge’s face produced a single tear. The Judge’s tears dropped onto the fancy carpet, and immediately, the roses and thorns returned to its previous position. A strong gust of wind followed, and the windows of the Den opened to let the wind in. Andreyev felt two conflicting emotions —– fear and tranquility, at the same time. And then, everything stopped. the Judge returned to his stern look, and his black coat, with his hands now crossing on his shoulders.

“No grave deeds committed. You were indeed a nothing person” the Judge’s gravelly voice exclaimed to Andreyev. Immediately, Andreyev felt confusion. Is this the end of me?

“I do not understand….” Andreyev said to the Judge, “Am I going to permanently vanish?” he continued.

“You are to return to the mortal plane” the Judge continued, “Sandalphon, bring this soul to Shekhinah”

“Why must I return?” Andreyev questioned,

“You simply must” the Judge answered, “You were nothing. Fill that nothing, you shall”

“Nothing...?” Andreyev answered with a question. The Judge sighed, and turned his back on Andreyev.

“An answer will serve no point” the Judge answered. He stopped looking at Andreyev, “Begone” he continued, in a stern tone, but sprinkled with melancholy.

The Judge ordered an angel — presumably Sandalphon — to escort Andreyev. The angel looks like a human being, with a very long red hair, and an androgynous face, wrapped in exposed torso, with only his bottom parts covered.

As Andreyev leaves the den, he could not stop thinking of the Judge. As Andreyev looks back into the Judge, his vision turns into the Judge, clad in bridal outfit, standing upright. Questions filled Andreyev’s mind, such as why did the Judge shed a tear? And why did he decide to bring Andreyev back to Earth?

But most importantly….why did he see the Judge as a bride?

At the end of the Den, Andreyev glimpsed a possible hint to the answer. A faded name “Wilhelm von Strauss” was written on a sculpture. The sculpture depicts a middle-aged man, tied in rose thorns, kneeling, with his face full of sadness and grief. The sculpture remarkably resembled the Judge —– or was it truly him?

The sculpture strangely produces tears every minute. As he glimpses at the sculpture, he sees what the sculpture is crying over —– a fading image.* Essentially, it is crying over nothing.* *A person who faded into nothingness. A nothing person.

Was it his groom? Was the groom a nothing person? Andreyev thought to himself, as he remembered the Judge referring to him as a nothing person. Many implications rushed into Andreyev’s brain, but as he began to form his concrete thoughts on the ordeal of the Judge being a bride, he reached the end of the den. There was a door.

“Give up your inquiries on this ordeal, as it is useless” Sandalphon said as he opened the door. Immediately after stepping out from the den, Andreyev was cleansed. All memories, thoughts, emotions, even his own name…..was lost. Subsequently, his physical form began to disappear as his soul descended back into Earth.

He is reborn. No longer as a nothing person that he was.

#writetober #OCs #Sephirot #ThroneOfMalkuth #WinstonSmith #WilhelmVonStrauss #Purgatorio #edentrius #writing