king of the neon lights
_{wore the crown on friday nights}

From where I stand, at such a great distance (damn these defective eyes), I can just begin to make out the features worn on the blue boy. It's a momentary struggle, bubblegum concentrated on making out the elegance of the face, the cheshire smile that splits across dark blue. It's handsome and devilish, had I been older (more mature), I would have responded differently. There would have been the greedy licking of lips, the eagerness of my steps, a strong stride to push aside the waters and take me to the hooves of unicorn. I would've acted boldly, daring to tease and flirt— perhaps it would be all for not, and I would suffer rejection. Maybe I would be successful, and flourish beneath grace and royalty.

But I am young, a babe in my twisted youth, still pure. There is no desire, no desperatethirst that begs to be quenched— instead just a quiet observation of the refined structure looming over the water. His body is thin, nothing like the bulky bodies that run in my family. It's a change of scene, so often my eyes perusing the figures of bone relatives, with muscle and force beneath black hide. Bubblegum meets the upturned corners again, brows melding momentarily. In truth, I should be the one with the clever grin, with a tempting smirk to offer the idea of false innocence— I shouldn't be on the receiving end (at least, not for this. Other things... well) of such a smile. I'm the devil in disguise here, chaos folded into the body of a boy— not him.

I should be more than happy to be charmed by the crowned prince of the endless ocean, should be honoured to meet a man of another great line. But I know not of his lineage, the importance of his blood, or the relation between Volterra and him. He's but a beautiful stranger, drifting above the cruel darkness of the ocean without care— where had he planned to go from there?

Why stay here, tethered to this land and all the damned it harboured, when you could venture off to greater places? The possibilities were numerous, he could travel beyond Helovia's grasp and into a world unseen. He had no limitations, could traverse across the ocean's surface and never fear sinking into the depths— for hours he could linger among the nothingness, could escape the gruesome reality we lived in and clear his mind of the tainted darkness. I can only dream of an escape so perfect, where I could find solitude and release the building pressure of Mother's expectations.

His words carry, evidence of the charm in his smile pursuing the syllables that cross the distance between us. I reflect my own prideful smirk, eyes alight with excitement— I could do so much, I could distort others' perceptions of me, could weave strong lies and crush kingdoms beneath me. Magic was not my only gift. "I can do many things," I tell him, cocky and confident as the sly curve of my lips only grows. Monochrome lashes fall quietly, gaze held by the boy in blue. "Is this all you can do?" It wasn't uncommon to find others who had more than just one magical gift, blessed with numerous talents (Volterra, for example). As far as I know, it is just my one. I'm no great king yet, with the power of lightning fast bullets and addictive blood, but a prince on his way towards greatness. Soon enough my time will come, and I will no longer be a lesser soul among the greatness of others— I will be something powerful and better.
"talk talk talk"