Am not I A fly like thee? Or art not thou A man like me?
For I dance And drink & sing: Till some blind hand Shall brush my wing.
If thought is life And strength & breath: And the want Of thought is death;
Then am I A happy fly, If I live, Or if I die.
A room made entirely of white marble, almost blindingly bright and reflective, a massive throne opposite the sole entrance that could seat a being of 50ft or more. In the middle of the floor, just in front of the throne, is a stark contrast of a thick, black puddle, scattered with various bits of what must be trash, mostly. But some parts sticking out might be bones.
Suits of armour line the walls, most simply standing at attention, others chained down and grunting or even screaming. Though any noise is quite muffled by their helmets, there's a certain quality to their one shared voice that sounds familiar.
THRONE ROOM
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou
A man like me?
For I dance
And drink & sing:
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.
If thought is life
And strength & breath:
And the want
Of thought is death;
Then am I
A happy fly,
If I live,
Or if I die.
A room made entirely of white marble, almost blindingly bright and reflective, a massive throne opposite the sole entrance that could seat a being of 50ft or more. In the middle of the floor, just in front of the throne, is a stark contrast of a thick, black puddle, scattered with various bits of what must be trash, mostly. But some parts sticking out might be bones.
Suits of armour line the walls, most simply standing at attention, others chained down and grunting or even screaming. Though any noise is quite muffled by their helmets, there's a certain quality to their one shared voice that sounds familiar.