♣ Crowned by Fear - Chapter 20 ♣

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First: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1245646040/ Previous: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1295385513/ Next: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1308922971/ Tw/s: None Thumbnail by @-b3RRy-_ Why do y'all think Scar is the ringmaster- He genuinely isn't- I apologize in advance for stretching the definition of rhyme and poetry/prophecies so thin... ♣ Crowned by Fear - Chapter 20 ♣ The Storyteller, like Cheshire and the Ringmaster, enjoys her job immensely. Their price is surprisingly low. Anything in the world for a good story. It can be true or false or a mixture of the two. As long as she is entertained. They believe that everyone has a story to tell... ♠ ♠ ♠ "I need to speak with The Storyteller." The Ringmaster tapped his foot on the ground impatiently. He didn't have all day after all. The room was nice. He supposed. They all had their tastes. He liked a theatrical aspect to his. A tent preferably, grandiose and flashy. Something eye catching that showed his status as the most powerful. Because he was. And he enjoyed showing everyone that. Cheshire just shoved everything in random places and called it 'Art'. The Ringmaster called it a mess... The Storyteller had a slightly mystical vibe, potions and cauldrons adorning nearly every surface. As well as countless bookshelves everywhere. Nothing was enchanted. She clearly did not have the power to do that. The woman sitting in the chair did not look like she belonged. She had long red hair, big yellow eyes and big thickly rimmed black glasses with a dark green jumper, crisp white shirt and a knee length black skirt. She looked like a student at a school. "I'm looking for The Storyteller." The woman jumped up, shiny black Mary Jane shoes clicking on the floor as she did. "Who's asking?" Her voice was very perky and happy. The Ringmaster was already annoyed. "The Ringmaster." "Wellllll...." She did a little twirl. "Shelby Shubble Shrub. She/They. Also known as The Storyteller." The Ringmaster was expecting... Someone impressive. Not someone who looked like they'd just graduated. "The Ringmaster. He/Him. I'm here because I want to make a deal." "Ooh! It's been a while since I've made a deal- You're stealing all my business." They laughed. The Ringmaster did not. "Tell me a story. And then we will have our deal." "That is your price?" "It is. It can be true, false, a mixture of the two. It can be a tale of heroes or one of villains. I do not care about the details as long as it interests me. As truth and lies mean different things to different people. I believe everyone has a story to tell." The Ringmaster sighed. "Okay." The Storyteller smiled. "So tell it." “Once upon a time there was a boy who believed that everyone had good inside of them. That deep down everyone no matter how bad their actions or deeds- No matter how deep the rot ran in their soul- Was good. They had good inside of them they were just victims of consequence or just needed someone to shine a light on the darkness inside of them. As the boy grew older he met more and more people. Some who many believed could never be good. Could never be redeemed. Yet the boy kept up his hope and his belief. Because to him that was what kept him going, His foolish, foolish hope. Soon after the boy's fourteenth birthday, tragedy struck. And he was alone in the world. That was when he learnt his first lesson. The world owes you nothing. And you owe it nothing. A few months after that he discovered he possessed tremendous power. He could create- destroy- Change the world around him the way that no one else could. But as the world was cruel they didn't see what the boy had as a gift but rather as a curse. They shunned him. Forced him to hide this gift from the world. And slowly he became bitter. Jaded towards the world. If they didn't help him then why should he help them? The night of his fifteenth birthday he left the orphanage he lived at to start a new life. To fulfil the greater purpose he surely had. Because why was he put on this earth- Gifted with these powers if he wasn't meant to use them? For good? Maybe. For evil? Maybe. But what truly were good and evil. Words. Terms used by a society of people in a feeble attempt to grasp at their cold unfeeling reality by grouping people into boxes. Neat little boxes and labelling anyone who didn't fit in these categories as wrong... That was one of the reasons he decided that they were not worthy of him. And soon enough he found someone in need of his help. A man named Abolish R. Veylocke was willing to make a deal in exchange for his soul. That was the day the boy realised what power he possessed over people. He gained new clothes. A new name. And he decided once and for all to leave the past behind him." The Storyteller didn't say anything for a few seconds looking at The Ringmaster with another smile. [[ Continued in Ns & Cs ]]