Melancholy.
The escape from Magnum. Pain.. and pain.
"...." -Drip, drip, drip, drip. A mahogany, free-flowing solution soiled the resting boy's front, a miasma pricking his nostrils, unceremoniously waking the Demon.- "Mor-Morgana..? Bride..well?" -Worriedly inquired Voso, to his tranquility they both situated themselves on either hemisphere of his soma. Further scrutiny concluded they had made dwelling underneath a breached septic tank, his destitute sister lay amidst the foul soup. Common curtesy, Voso directed his sibling away from the ever-producing maw of the tank above, clutching her form to his side. In the breadth seethed the flames of warfare, just ill-defined.. he could distinguish the silhouette of their home which buckled at the foundation, discomposing into nil.-
-Restive as he, Bridewell had nursed the segment of his impaired countenance. Yet still he could perceive the bloodied, tattered remnants. Scarcely did they escape the clutches of Leviathan, though to their serendipity a considerable undertaking presented itself in the circle of Gluttony. Within the median of Violence, the Seventh circle they found minuscule welfare from the impudent individuals haphazardly running a-mock.- "Did you hear Astaroth died?" -Came a voice.- "You're bullshitting me! Astaroth is far too powerful!"-Hollered another woman.- "-Atypical, truly the great war occurring in Heresy, Limbo, Anger, Greed, Gluttony and Lust tossed the other remaining into disarray as the passersby did not seem phased with the "tragedy" so-to-speak.- "What about Fraud and Treachery?! There hasn't been a word!" -Again riled the conversation with another passing soul.- "I heard Beelzebub has settled the matters! He is the strongest after all, now that Lucifer is incarcerated in Treachery!" -Magisterial the word-vomiting civilians, their chit-chat grew so incessant that it woke Morgana which too looked on, befuddled with the naive Demons.-
-The out-and-out moot regarding the sole profiteer of their anterior imprisonment thrust a gobbet of malice into his hub.- "I..I.. I will.." -Incoherent Voso's dialogue, stifled only with an appeasing gesture from Bridewell, such a simple motion was enough to pacify the brother. Wide-eyed pools of heliotrope peered into the smoke-laden empyrean. Though.. something was fallacious, all was not content, an instantaneous flare-up molecular particles throughout the gaseous substance which devolved into the deformity of carbon monoxide with the nearing amaglamation of, a worm-monster derived from the souls of gluttons, Cerberus, the grotesque hound of Lucifer, no doubt the monstrosity still searched every nook and cranny for the remaining Sins. That was his prior conclusion, until experiencing such a horrific display, Cerberus began to imbibe himself upon the outstanding sanity in the Seventh circle, ingesting himself until sated with the Demons dashing for their lives.-
"Father!" -Recalling a remnant of his bloodline, Voltaire, their Father. If his memory did not succumb to woe, Voltaire still occupied the fourth circle, Greed, if they were to make it to their Father, perchance they would survive. In the wake of the worm-hounds arrival, beyond him lay various inter dimensional snags of his rancor, more-so leading to the upper or lower circles. Morgana, a soft-spoken girl at last voiced her opinion as Bridewell and Voso devised their stratagem.- "Cerberus. The Great Worm. As a dog who crave barking, then browns quiet as he snaps up his food, so far the foul faces of the demon Cerberus, who thunders over these souls." -The mental-unsighted woman sashayed towards a gaping rift which both Voso and Bridewell ensued, an ultimate vision of the Seventh circle terminating as the egress enveloped them, assisting them into the fourth realm of Greed. Repetitive sniggering erupted from the esophagus of Voso, which he replied with the gripping of his stomach.- "Those idiots! They talked so highly of their General yet were eaten! Ahah.. ahahah!" -The threesome of siblings ambled onward, the thoroughfare of Magnum was pitted with ichor and varieties of lost appendages and innards.-
-Erected in the span, a titanic citadel which Voltaire up kept as his domicile, abandoned many millennia ago it stood no-less a rigid reminder of depression. Left and right were atrocities of the flesh, murderers in-acting their primal whims, rapists satiating themselves upon the helpless and children fending for themselves. What more were they? Orphaned by distorted accusations, until:- "Boy!" -Voso contorted his head in a rather distasteful fashion, eyeing the figurine steadily encroaching them until he registered the manifest to be Voltaire. Their Father's ecru eyes longingly savored the portraying of his three children.- "Voltaire.. Sinclair." -Interrogated Bridewell, broadly walking a sphere around Voltaire who too appeared deformed, of the Elder Incubus' wings had been slit from his back, his palms profusely salivating plasma onto the chalice he always toted along. Royal garb festooned Voltaire's body as with his unkempt mane and coppery horns pert at his temples. Much like a shadow it stalked them, Voso referred not to Voltaire as a gender, but an it.- "For no man would just let our Mother die!" -Vocalized Morgana who angrily stomped her foot, Bridewell to accompany her ire, feebly shoving their Father, a lamentation of bygone incidents.-
-Voso noiselessly sulked, until his solitude was interjected by an overweening declaration.- "Enough! You children should be grateful I even acknowledge you! I could've kicked you back to the street to accept your fates!" -Elsewhere, Voso was enduring the symptoms of a stroke, too it previously ailed him with an aneurysm.- "My Greed, my Sloth, my Envy. Come, I will explain the severity of your existance, for I fear my time is nearing an end." -Voltaire's gore-soaked digits intermixed with Voso and Bridewell's hair, Morgana herself propped herself against their Father's chest, his guidance led them towards the perishing edifice. As they traversed the infirm staircase, the true resilience displayed. It would last but another day or two. Their port of call ended at the top floor, there were a multitude of cryptic instruments strewn about, scrolls and shattered glass too adorning the place.- "Your Mother, Alena died to ensure the survival of you three, I too am to share a similar fate as my destiny has been fulfilled. You three are named after the three of the Seven deadly Sins, Voso, Morgana, Bridewell, all according to the embodiment residing within."
-There was visible strain on Voltaire's face, foreshadowing what he was involuntary forced to say.- "You three are to suffer profoundly before you are to leave.. Morgana, your clairvoyant side originates from me, I have foreseen that tragedies that have and will ever transpire. Though that I cannot tell." -Voltaire's features softened.- "Though throughout your trek, you will encounter Lust, Gluttony, Wrath and Pride. Cerberus is already grappling with the loss of his, it would explain his path of disorder throughout Violence." -Voso, although amply registering the wisdom of his father was too far absent to face reality.- "And to you, my youngest son, this." -Into his palms fell an ebony representation, encrusted the leaf within the center were saffron, enveloping the volume around it lay obsidian gem. A crest, the actuality to recall the Sinclair bloodline as they were soon to be the last three remaining of once a broad family.-
-A Library laced with novels and eon-laden exteriors, they crumbled beneath the gentle palms of Voltaire. Across the span of his colloquy, he duly noted the paltry rags they escaped within, it would not do! A hiatus to rummage through his reservoir of garb, Voltaire produced courtly threads. For Voso a licorice black tie, equally gloomy the Military jacket to chaperone, chock-full it was with medals and honor-based inscriptions of a past era. This belonged to Voltaire when he was Voso's age, insisted in warfare epochs ago. For Morgana bladed shoulder guards, silver-tinged gauntlets and monochrome heels with an ebony-shrug beneath her carapace vest, obsidian earrings and a prominent thigh-clad armor segment. Too her vestments were rather.. skimpy, yet no-less a weathered girl. And alas, Bridewell, his newfound outfit too fell beneath the genre of Military. Bandaged profoundly lay the gauze in Voltaire's palms, he knew rightfully the fate that befell the second eldest, Bridewell accordingly replaced the festering, blood-stained ones shrouding his pallid tiers.-
-As for his apparel, a scarlet tie, a shrug plastered black which was chain-linked to either of his pectoral muscles. A faux design of what Voso was given.- "I do believe.. my time is up.." -Bewailed Voltaire, a fate's arrival too soon. In their peripheral gaze. Lord of the Flies, Beelzebub, a pseudo incarnation of Lucifer. The entity swooped in like a sentient guillotine, the timbre of it's voice was rasping, callous even. And yet Voltaire sat informally.- "By the decree of.. MYSELF!" -Self-absorbed as he was, Beelzebub payed little mind to the three children mere meters to the right, the horrid being before them grinned impishly, revealing an array of pearlescent daggers. Not even a farewell, he saw not but the swimming head of their Father as it flung through the shattered skylight descending to Hades below.- "...You are to be.. executed." -The dark deed concluded, the structure sagged and buckled, the multi-stories it stood all became nevermore in an instant, as they fell to the unforgiving world, a voice sang throughout his mind.- "My children, do remember me well, remember me as your Father, I loved your Mother greatly, as did she love me, perhaps in another age we will meet again, until then.. live on!" -The voice grew distant, the world became cold.- "W-Wait.. Father..!" -It was dark now, into the void-born abyss, the debris of the citadel collapsed around the sibling's vicinity.-
"A-Ahggh..!" -Voso remember no-more, his last vision was but the emblem his Father gave before his untimely demise.- "Through.. Limbo.. Limbo has Charon.. and with Charon the River Styx.. we.. can be.. free.. we .. can.." -Compulsory instinct to lose consciousness with the overwhelming trauma sustained to a vast preponderance of his anatomy. There spill an abundance of sanguine fluid down his face, it's origin from his eye, which now reside moderately on the exterior of the socket. Vaguely he could distinguishing the nettlesome chatter of Imps scouring the vicinity for miscellaneous and other misplaced items, to their delight, three misshapen bodies lay among the wreckage.- "Why.. why did we survive? I want to be with Mother and Father.. I miss.. them.. I.. miss them." -A riposte of guffawing, with high-pitched replies.- "We are your family now, as parents we need to borrow some things!" -Emerging from the spiteful imps, Voso felt foreign fingers within his eye socket, tugging.. tugging until.- "Wa-Wait.. I.. sto-stop! Stop! Augh!" -With an audible "snap!" Voso's eye detached itself from the stem, he began to retch uncontrollably with the loss of his perception. Nonnative hands, please, someone help. They were going to kill him, though Father said they had to survive.. as did Mother, Alena, Voltaire..-
-Mustering what scant fight he retained, Voso thrashed about vigorously, fending off the onslaught of scavengers and other "collectors" of helpless victims. Only then came a familiar voice of Morgana, with his blood-logged eye he watched her desperately shamble towards Voso's hopeless physique. Momentarily processing the austere situation, they had bypassed the fourth circle, the collapse shifted realms as Greed collapsed inward on itself and propelled the three into the second circle, Lust which diverse from the other's, it too withheld it's sanity minus the thieving imps. Lashed and battered, Voso received the greatest of injury from the aftermath of the collapse, the entire right hemisphere of his body was benumbed, indubitably it had to be encumbered with scars, they would leave quite the glory of scar tissue.- "Come on, we have to get going, Brother." -If she concealed it or not, the melancholic mutuality lingered, Bridewell and Morgana fished Voso from the depths of the wreckage, his right femur was dislocated and a rib or two was broken, he would survive beside his siblings nonetheless. They hardly appeared to have sustained any detriment, it was but he who dragged along, arms fastened about his siblings.-
"...." -There was no song sang, no victory tune to reverberate, there was only muteness. The second circle of Lust lay but a barren wasteland, decrepit and growing gelid much like Treachery, Hades he assumed had succumbed to the fist of Zeus, as much as Angels disgusted him, the light would grant him unaware vengeance against the ones who wronged him. Progressing along, Voso, Bridewell and Morgana's mien had yet to integral. Limber strides fed their desires as they arrived alas in Limbo, it too had succumbed to disorderedness, Charon bulky with refugee souls and other Demons which one way or another escaped the depths of despair.- "We never found Lust, Gluttony or Wrath. Pride however is a rather marvelous woman, though she is younger than I, I would assume she was re-incarnated." -A younger boy jubilantly asked, his mouth to the brink with crooked teeth.- 'So you're really Sloth, Greed and Envy?!" -Voso turned, raising his drink, visualizing his scar-laden countenance and the emblem shrouding the vacant socket which his eye once lived.- "In the flesh.. and I must say." -Voso took a prolonged drink from his canteen, the same canteen from the foremost segment of his anecdote. Swiveling his body around to face the barkeep, still he festooned the gear his Father blessed him with. A memento received from both Mother and Father, his Necklace and his Medals.- "I've never felt better.."