[erside]

There comes a time when old wives' tale continues to spin and reach the ears of kings and lesser men.
A time where rumor becomes myth, and myth becomes legend. 

A moon bleeding, a sea tainted, a dragon perversed, an artist fated.
A king betrayed, a judge admonished. Their kin, asunder.

Everyone's heard those tales once in their life. But-- Less spoken about are those tales that simply slip by. The ones that hardly involve the divine, or the spirits-- Or the Netherworld for that matter. Words spoken in tongues of old broken empires, with meanings lost over what they could pertain to.
Of Boogeymen who eat children. Of heroes wielding epic swords meant to slay impossible evils.
Then, the more mundane ones. The ones spoken in tiny little rhymes. On songs passed down from a deeper Alma Mater.
The ones spoken by soldiers in tents, now arising with Atheleon's conflict with Delphina.
Duets have become quite popular with them as to remind them of family.

.. this one goes like this...

1, 2, 3 . . .

Son, have you heard
How we play with funny words
Like 'how many more will go
before no more are left to stop?'

Barracks left behind
Road ahead and I
see the red of your heart
but will you see mine?

Father, I'll be walking now
as my laughter fades
My soul won't feel your woe
while your own decays

I know better than to tread
on the road you made
Ruby is my love alone
but yours has turn black.

Among spirits we played two ways
Among spirits we played two ways
and the games we won
and the games we won...
Who watched the father-son grow horns
felt their love grow cold.

Through paths unknown I walked
I alone was left behind
primordials trapped growing moss
my soul turned to red-stone
Who watched the father-son grow horns
now left all alone.