A cross post from withhumanvoices

[ayoub]

Every masque turned to him
yet he ignored them all
striding calmly into the ballroom
hands empty and by his side
light from floating candles
showering his hair
each grey shines brightly
brief flashes of incandescence
each black reflecting in challenge
the flames suspended above

In stark and striking contrast
to the kaleidoscope around him
he is clad in midnight black
the lack of colour, blinding
with merely a silver wolf's head
proudly upon his breast
a path opens up before him
all gazes drawn to him
masques half lowered, or raised
almost dare reveal their wearers
His eyes, brown, yet liquid,
twinkle as a half smile graces his lips

He stops before the throne
eyes locked to those of the King
he bows in formal fashion
yet his expression remains impassive
giving scant acknowledgement
to the watching, questioning eyes

"Who is that?"
a whisper races through the crowd.
"The Royal Executioner,"
a solitary voice reveals
and his simple striking beauty
suddenly becomes terrifying.
"I've never seen his face,"
the shock hushes the whisper

The only masque for the eternally masked
is no masque at all