It's been a long time since we heard from Byron, Shelley, and 'On the Other Side of the Mask', hasn't it?
Right now, I'm wondering if Matt Bright and Lethe Press are going to do 'Gents' again this April? I'm thinking of splitting 'On the Other Side of the Mask' into two.
One story would introduce Byron and Shelley as church songbirds in Paradise, but they'd find themselves singing a different song. Maybe I'll call it 'A Rebel Hymn in Paradise'?
The second tale of life in the House of Lord Ruthvyn would remain 'The Other Side of the Mask'.
In case you've forgotten these two boys who dared to take on the names of two famous poets, here they are, once more.
Poems can shape the world, just as poets shape it with their thoughts and ideas. Their legacy causes ripples across realities, inspiring the inhabitants of other worlds. Their very names invoke power.
Which was why two, shivering boys brought before the court, before they were consigned to the church’s grasp called upon them. The court warden looked down upon them from her lofty dais, only to scowl upon her wards.
“Your bodies and souls belong to the temple,” she said, as she turned her scowl from their small faces to their tiny, clapsed hands. Affection had no place in court, or in church, unless it was given to the Goddess. “The only thing, which belongs to you is your name.” She rose from her seat, the judgment of heaven resting upon her powdered head. “What name will you choose?”
The first boy, a sleek, dark haired lad, with bluish veins standing out from his small hands, raised his head with the pride of an aristocrat.
“Byron, Your Honor,” he said, in a clear, ringing voice, which carried throughout the room.
A few people murmured at that. The second boy shot him a surprised look, which set his strawberry blonde curls to trembling. A tiny smile touched his lips, as he looked, not at the judge, but at his companion.
“Shelley, Your Honor,” the second boy said, as he exchanged a secret glance with his companion, who squeezed his hand tighter.