Club

He stares out solemnly at the life he has built: the kingdom that is his story. Still, memories weigh down on him, tangible enough to feel them clawing up his sides and tearing through the fine fabric of his robes. He sustains a wary grin. It is his pride that anchors him, as well as the self-importance that marks him as a man of nobility. He refuses to acknowledge the urge that haunts him. It is close, though. It is close enough to touch him, so that he could lightly grasp it. Soon it will permeate the stone fortress. It will not be long, now.

Spade

It is not yet time for extreme measures. He has come to understand the mediocrity of his creations- something he was not formerly familiar with. The kingdom erupts with the apathy of its leader. Their desperate pleads provide him no solace, only strengthens the longing and confusion that whither his soul. The prospect of destruction begins to appear, and he studies it with admiration and disgust. He grips it firmly as discontentment descends into melancholy.

Diamond

The land has been poisoned with the jagged seeds of hysteria. He pleads, reasons with something unseen. He seeks answers, acceptance, or something different entirely. He seeks. He attempts to turn away from his frightened renderings. Vulnerability conquers. He regresses like a butterfly back into its cocoon, slithering out as the grimy larva he should have been in the first place. All that will proceed is inevitable, yet he acts as if choice and free will still reign in his kingdom. To his dismay, the treachery of his own hand lurks close behind.

Heart

He stares out wistfully at his once grand story. Peaceful now, he is decidedly rendered incapable. Preparations have been made and he surrounds himself with a deafening silence. Not even the soft warble of his voice fills the chamber of his mind. Clockwork. There will be no interruption. The laws of natural justice have determined that man is entitled to his surrender. It should be quiet and certain: an unspoken agreement between a man and his disease. Hand over his heart and all visions fled from his eyes, a vow is left on his lips. It shall never be written. Remembered by few, but never written, for no end is respected without mystery. And in the creeping way that poison moves through veins or night falls, he rests, and a kingdom is abandoned.