On the Other Side

All rise! The Lord and Lady Maker enter! Show your respects! Revere in silence!

That demand for all to stand and honour our entrance still fills me with the shivers. Even…oh my word…no, there is no compare…now that I am his Lady, I feel I must speak unto someone I know well the circumstances surrounding my meeting with him….

I am confiding with you, my dear, such that I may have my own ideas laid to bear in front of me, that I may dissect them and study them as you no doubt will…pay heed. This will be the last time I let any but him know the loathsome, hideous dragon of vice that coils and stirs in its slumber within my mind…and even then, it shall only be bore for him to see, for him to enjoy….

No, that is quite enough of that. I almost lost my own train of thought.

It was during the time I was lost in the Sea of Thorns. I had been wandering through the rose trees just to get away from my insufferable sister. Before I knew it, I was deeper in the Sea than I ever remembered being before. The roses all around me barred all paths but a narrow trail that led afore and behind, and I already knew that I did not want to go back. I wandered for hours, not knowing when I would come to my senses and return to where I belonged. It was foolish of me to continue to put one foot in front of the other. A rose demon could have plucked me through the hedges and vast screens of thorns, like I was but a ripe berry on a bush, and we know all too well the fate of those caught by those infernal creatures, assuming that I was not tender ribbons from the slashing thorns and barbs by the time it had finished dragging me.

It was not until I had wandered for a length of time too vast for my recollection to make precise that I saw something being to peer out from above the plants. As I looked back, I spotted golden dust settle to the floor near me. I had stumbled through a Warp, without even noticing, and the lacerations of the trailing part of my dress making it all too clear that I was now beyond assistance or aid. I had been taken from a place where help could avail me, to a place further away from anywhere I knew than I had ever thought possible for me to reach. The intricate marks along the structure ahead made its identity all too obvious.

The Wall.

Not a single resident of this world is ignorant to its presence; the barrier between this world and somewhere else beyond familiarity. Somewhere beyond the comprehension of us mortals, where…yes; the one who wrought this world and all its quirks sat. He who made us. I always hated him, the idea that I was slave to some omnipresent entity that watched from behind the safety of the Sea and a giant stone blockade, never allowing us he made mortal…weak…worthless, no less…to take a step up to his grand throne and deliver unto his perfect visage a righteous blow for what he designed and deigned to let happen-

No, ignore me, that is the past. That is not now. There is no going back, certainly not from here. Come, sit back down, I shall continue without further incident, I assure you. Besides, that is not how I feel anymore.

Yes, I reached the Wall and I, like many who have claimed to have looked upon it in the past, marvelled at the fantasticality of it, the aberrant nature of the structure unlike anything that even the most peculiar architectural mind of our kind could describe or envision, let alone erect. It was plain to me that this was not an error. If what I saw was not distorted or being manipulated, then I was looking upon the Wall. It loomed over me. I felt belittled, as if it would topple on to me for desecrating its isolation, or threatening to spread my mortal disquiet into the realm of the deity that sat undisturbed for eternity beyond it.

Though even with it before me, I entertained the fancy that I might knock it down, one day. I thought, with a whole if misguided heart, that I could tear it down with my own two brittle hands. I placed them upon the stone, if that was even what the Wall was made from, and brushed it…caressed it…probing it with my fingertips to inspect for a weakness or fault in its immaculacy that I could exploit. I cared not for the stories about those who defile something so sacrosanct, so hallowed. In my own little world, I was the Queen. I was god. I was the maker. I wrought my own destiny. I made worlds and ended them in the minds and hearts of everyone I looked upon with my radiant beauty and countenance. In my mind, there was nothing that I could defile; if anything, it should be this Wall’s maker who should bow down and kiss feet.

Alas, you know me too well, how I was, and how I am not that person any more. Such a short period of time, and such strange events have changed me in ways I could not foresee, nor expect, nor even wanted before. No, it was when the Colour started appearing that I knew my vanity and hubris was about to be punished.

Out it poured. From the brush-marks my fingers made on it, and around my arms in a roiling tempest that lashed in tendrils and burned the surroundings. I recoiled, knelt down and yelled at the sky for absolution, for clemency at my conceited act!

Please, great maker, forgive me! I am a mortal, I do not understand, I never will…but forgive me! Please! Forgive me! Forgive me!

And yet it continued, as the commotion stirred up a wind that began to shake the encroaching thorns. A shriek pierced the noise, a din that signalled only one thing – rose demons. I was certain that it was the end for me.

Forgive me! Forgive me! Forgive me!

A compulsion came over me to stare at the Wall where I had laid my fingers on it, and from that point the Colour spread. Even as it poured out, the force of unpredictable change that we know and fear stained the stone, like a splatter of paint that had been spilled. It, too, did roil and bubble, but remained flat against the Wall, as if it was now little more than art. The torrent into the small clearing halted, and that which had covered me formed into a rime that shimmered and glowed. I had been splashed with Colour before, and it was the most painful thing I have ever experienced, but this…did not hurt at all.

I continued to stare at the Wall, unable to avert my gaze for even the briefest of moments, as a vision unlike any I had seen before began to manifest in the stain…the Colours rearranged themselves into a coherent picture…of a bleak, grey room backed by slatted windows, punctuated by majestic patterns, superimposed over a man who walked around in front of a wooden desk. It was a painting, but one that moved…one that was alive. I called out to it in desperation and the man inside jumped and met my gaze with wide eyes…so wide I could make them out even with the imperfect clarity of the medium.

He threw aside the desk and scratched at the patterns, as if to claw through. At this point I felt the malodour of the rose demons intrude into the clearing, and the snarling filled the air as the Colour around my own body quietened. I managed to muster the will to turn and look, and their hideous appearance forced my attention back to the Wall. I had no choice but to cry out….

Save me!

With a grimace on his face, the man stepped out of the Wall, a paintbrush in hand, and pointed it at the demons behind me. An eruption of Colour streaked past my head, and the cry that followed indicated all too well the pain such volume of it could cause. He swung his hand in an arc, releasing more torrents from the brush, as his own clothes, unusual but practical, shone with a spectral brilliance, incorporating all the colours I knew of and some my mind was not even aware it knew how to see.

I know this sounds like little more than make-believe, a tall story of dizzying proportions, but these lips do not lie. Not any more.
Within moments the Colours had subsided and the rose demons had fled back into the depths of the rosewood Sea. He took my hand and lifted me to my feet, with purpose and urgency, but not without care. I dared not to raise my head. If this was the one who sat beyond the Wall, as I suspected, then I had no right to even think about speaking.

That was close. Are you alright?

As soon as I could, I broke free of his grasp, stumbled backwards with my sight glued to the ground, and prostrated myself before him, nodding my head. This was the ultimate gesture of submission I knew, anything more was beyond my knowledge, and I know you are having trouble even believing that someone as self-righteous as me even had it in me to perform something so humiliating! But I did. And yet….

Please, no need to be so serious! Look at me, I want to see if you’re hurt.

I raised my head as per his wish. His face…seemed little more than that of a mortal, though there was a quality about it that seemed as if he was from another world, even if I could not, and still do not, have the words that could quite describe what it was that was so unnatural and different about it. He was by no means a perfect image of a perfect man – he had wrinkles, he looked weary. Rogue colour had sliced into the arm still gripping the paintbrush tight, and he bled.

He was, by all accounts, a mortal. Yet, it was obvious he was anything but. And…I was blown away.

You know how I was. All too well, I would wager. You know how men were, to me, toys to be played with and discarded at leisure. There was…and still is…no reason why I, Verita of Lyceria, should change the way I think on such a topic with such swiftness. And yet I did. That depraved, almost misandrous…though know that I most certainly do not hate men, rather I belittle them…such an attitude still wanted to have him thrown to my feet and have him smother his face in the dirt until I saw fit. Even as I stood there, stock still, praying for deliverance and his mercy, I…wanted him.

But that was not how I felt towards him. He only had to look at me, and there was just something that overruled my norms and turned me from the witch of emotions I was…into this much more demure personality that I have since adopted. I stated I was fine, my voice cracked and weak from the pounding in my chest. My heart was racing, from both the threat of imminent death, and the advancing taint of lust. It was something about him that I needed, physically and emotionally. I became a puppet of my own feelings, a stark contrast from my usual position as puppetmaster.

We talked about the events that had just transpired, and though I asked him what he was, he did not answer; he evaded my question, and even refused to make eye contact as he looked…sheepish? He would not yield, even as my ego returned and I imposed more of my true self upon him in a rude quest to unveil his secrets. In the end, he merely asked my name. He had not even given me his! Why should I give him mine?

Selamara.

Yes, I know that is not my real name. But…I felt compelled to lie. It left my mouth cracked, so the flaws in my speech that would normally betray a lie were masked behind the weakness of my voice. His eyes widened, and he shook. A glaze in his eyes seemed to clear, and his disposition grew brighter. What seemed like relief grew into…outright euphoria, and he took my arms and danced around me. I could do nothing but let him dance, before he leapt towards me and embraced me, a solitary tear welling up in the corner of his eye. He never told me why he was so happy.
But I wanted him to stay that way. And more importantly, here, with me.

I professed my love for him many times, and he continued to hold me tight. I never wanted to let him go. Not just because he saved me. But because he was supposed to be mine. My ego grew stronger, but as I pressured him further, he placed his finger over my lips….

I know you better than you know yourself. I know where you are going with this, and I can tell you that the path your words will take you is one of ruination and despair. You should learn humility, before it kills you. I should know. I’m…responsible.

His cryptic phrases baffled me, but before long he said he had to leave, and made to walk through the stain on the Wall. I held on, asking when he’d return.

Soon, I hope…there’s something I have to finish….

As he went out of sight, merging with the Wall and returning to the incarcerating grey cell from whence he came, he waved the paintbrush at a spot near my feet and a Warp appeared there, burst of gold dust and all. I said I would do anything to see him again, and soon. Through I walked, and I ended up where I first disappeared. People were looking for me, and their relief was palpable, but I cared not for their feelings of content that I had returned safely. Twelve days later, I would return to where I vanished, and voluntarily take the Warp I found there back to the Wall.

The stain remained in place, but had grown, the sight of the cell beyond had grown wider, and more vibrant – it was no longer the grey lifeless space it was when I had first summoned its inhabitant through the Wall. And now, there were three people inside – the man I recognised, asleep at his desk, clutching a weird cylindrical pot and a note, and two others who looked as if they were here to take him away, clad in darkness and similarly odd clothes. I watched as they walked around the room, admiring what appeared to be me through the stain, yet their fingers could not pass through like the ones of the man I loved could.

I merely held my hand out to him, smiling, waiting for him to realise I was on the other side, wanting for him to raise his head and step through to live with me forever and escape the dark cell he lived in. The others left, and I knew that I had to act. I closed my eyes, walked towards the stain and pushed through, entering the cell and its strange interior decorations. Colour was everywhere, such that I could not see it from the other side, the world that I knew. The floors by the Wall on this side were covered in it, puddles into which it looked as if my foot could sink without end. I did not care. Through them I stepped, the burning pain engulfing my entire feet and ankles as I dragged him off his chair, and with difficulty, through the Wall.

Come live with me. You do not need this place. I will free you from your cell…just, please…open your eyes.

He did, and he looked at me. I looked down at my hands, and they trembled, yet now shone with the same otherworldly aura that radiated from him. I smiled at him, and brushed back a stray lock of hair over his eyes.

Maker….

He smiled.

No…my name’s Ronald….