User:The Koromo/Scorpio

(in progress)

The idea that the old man could remember the events in his life before the Monarchy of Arachnia was a futile one. Often times the old man, properly known as Hubert Blake, leaned forward onto the railing separating The Plateau from The Valley and wondered where it all went to hell, and how his life could have been before it did. He remembered vaguely his mother, whose name he had forgotten, but her face he remembered, though the memory was muddy and unclear, dim. He wondered if she was still out there, an old lady now, estranged from him. It was unlikely, but there was not a day where he didn’t think about that possibility. As he usually did, he looked over the balcony overlooking the capital city of The Monarchy, located in The Valley. He took in a breath of air – only a little, too deep a breath would contaminate his lungs and poison his arteries – and, also, took in the sights and sound of The Valley, watching the weaving river of venom ebb and flow between the city’s streets, some boats atop of them, other unnoticeable figures walking – no, crawling - upon the streets. Hubert looked up at the contaminated purple sky, a thick cloud of dense color cast above the city, shutting out any possible sunlight that attempted to break through the thick wall of poisonous air. It had been decades since he had seen any sunlight, but a separate substance released by the Monarchy of Arachnia provided, somehow, the ability of life to the paleness of the human skin.

Scorpio.