And she said... YES! :D
I'm half-tempted to just post the good news and claim the earnings, but that's just not my style. I mean, what is this, Facebook?? No! Of course not! This is STEEMIT!!! A place where a 1000-word post is considered short. So, sit back, scroll down and I'll try to make it worth your while :D
In the tradition that my Good Buddy Boom (see @meesterboom, if you're not following him yet, then for shame!) has started, I shall try to regale you with a tale that would make any bard envious. If you need to go to the bathroom, I advice you to go now, because you won't be afforded another chance. Don't say I didn't warn you.
clears throat
Once upon a time...
In the land of King Philipp's Pines, there was once a timid boy who was too young to be admitted to the Academy of St. Francis and too old to stay in the School of the Heart of Gold. Scholars had suggested that he had untold potential deep within him, and that it wasn't something that should be squandered. His parents knew not what to do with him, so they had him shipped off to the far away Institute of St. Seton.
Frail and unremarkable, he didn't know how he would survive. It was a foreign place, and he had no allies to rely on. The boy felt like a sheep thrown in a den of wolves. He kept to himself, and tried his best not to get eaten. The other students had already formed factions way before he arrived, so he thought that he didn't stand a chance to assimilate.
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Weeks passed, and he was forced to trade in his wool for a more formidable hide. The boy needed to adapt if he ever hoped to survive. So, he did. He emulated the others, until it felt like he fit in. Stories had been told about wolves intermingling with sheep while disguised in their clothing, but his story was the complete opposite. He rose through the ranks until his status as a sheep didn't matter at all.
In his quest for survival, he hadn't noticed a story, that was eerily similar to his, unfolding at the very same time. Their paths converged when the day to celebrate the boy's birth came. Apparently, the girl was born the very next day, and so the celebration became a joint one, much to their chagrin.
The girl had been in the institute for far longer, and was ranked far higher than the boy ever hoped to achieve. While she looked even more fragile, she had been regarded as a ruthless competitor — one that few dared to mess with. "The Silent Assassin" — a nickname that stuck with her — can be heard through the chorus of whispers that littered the air.
It was customary for the celebrant to blow out the fire from a candle that sat atop a frosted pastry, while the others watched, waiting to ravage the baked treat. The two walked slowly, as they journeyed toward the middle of the room. Fate pulled them closer, until they met at the middle. Their eyes locked into each other, with neither one of them wanting to be the one to break the staredown. A few seconds passed, and the boy flinched. His embarassment caused him to avert his gaze. No words were exchanged, but both of them knew the girl had won. They took turns blowing out their candles, and even though the boy was a day older, he relinquished his turn. After all, he was on the losing end of their encounter.
Many moons went by, and even though the boy climbed high enough to be in the same league as the girl, they never once interacted with each other, not since that fateful day. The boy knew to steer clear, and the girl knew that she was bound for greater things. She had her eyes set on much larger goals.
The children were eventually sorted based on their skill. The girl went on to train at a more esteemed institute, while the boy was designated to stay. They had intentionally forced their paths to not cross this whole time, and so fate had removed any possibility of them converging ever again.
As the years went by...
The boy had grown up to become a man. What was once a sheep had now become a ferocious wolf, one that no pack could contain. He had all but forgotten his sheepish ways, and the others didn't even recognize him as the once timid boy. The days of not living up to his potential was past him, and he had decided to make up for lost time.
Seers had foretold that the end of days was upon the world of men. No one knew if what the supposed prophets were saying held any truth, but the man didn't want to regret anything. He made a list of things he wanted to accomplish before he left the mortal plane, and he decided to fulfill them before the end of days.
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"The world is ending and yet you haven't enlisted in the Book of Faces," one of his peers criticized.
The man scoffed at the notion. He had survived many battles without enlisting in the Book of Faces, so he didn't see the need for it now. His other peers jumped in and teased him to enlist, but he kept brushing off their jibes.
"When we survive the apocalypse, that's when I'll take the plunge," he proclaimed, fully believing that their lives would be long expired by then. "How about that, you cretins?"
The day of judgement came, and the Earth still spun. The man opened up the book, and signed his name on the first blank page he found.
He scoured the Book of Faces...
In hopes of finding familiar ones from his past. As he turned the pages, he happened upon the face of a girl he once knew, yet never had a chance to talk to. He took note of her information, and he added her to a list. The man didn't have any intentions other than wanting to reconnect with people from his past.
Very few people remembered who he was, so he decided to fool people by concocting stories of how they met. He was amused by the people's reactions to his tales, most of them believing they were true. When he met with the girl, who had grown up to become a woman, she immediately recognized who he was. Surprised, he was left with no other option but to tell only the truth.
Even though fate had removed any chances of their paths from ever converging, here they were standing side by side. Their reunion turned into friendship. The pair exchanged stories, and they discovered that they were more alike than they initially thought. Like the man, the woman had gone through her fair share of battles. They had scars that matched and complemented each other.
Eventually, their friendship blossomed into a relationship — one that was of the romantic variety. Then, the narrator of this story realized that this tale was becoming lengthier than he imagined, so he decided to push the fast forward button and reserve the other stories for different posts.
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Their paths converged more and more, until the man noticed that they were almost one and the same. So, he decided to take their union to a more intimate plane.
For a whole year...
The man came up with different plans on how to proclaim his intentions. They had always been open to each other about everything, but he saw it fit to reveal his realization through an elaborate gesture. So, he drew up different strategies and compared them to each other. One by one, the weaker ones fell. The convoluted ones didn't stand a chance either. He had been part of schemes like this for others in the past, but this time he was alone.
Once the man decided on the best plan, he practiced day and night, ironing out any flaws. It had to be perfect, he thought. But, as luck would have it, fate was none too pleased that they had deviated from the path it had set them upon. The man fortified his defenses so that his plan would remain intact. Fate took notice, and it was none too pleased. The man didn't know it yet, but fate had been tempted.
The man commissioned a blacksmith from a far away land to forge a metallic band, the likes the woman had never seen before. Once it was finished, the band was shipped off to the man. Fate stepped in, and caused a few delays. It sent out trolls to pass the parcel around, forcingly subjecting it into a maniacal game of keep-away. The man would have none of it, so he grabbed a sword and set out to intercept the package.
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He spent days going from troll to troll, violently forcing them to cough up the parcel, but they wouldn't submit. Perturbed, he brandished his sword and threatened to decapitate anyone who stood in his path. The trolls refused to yield. His intimidation tactics failed him, so he took a more diplomatic approach.
The man laid down his sword and took off his armor. He went to the headquarters of the Depository Holders League to parlay. The trolls were confused, and didn't know what to make of the gesture. The fiends were prepared for an all-out assault, so they didn't have a proper response to the man's peaceful approach. It took them days to decide, but they eventually handed over the parcel that rightfully belonged to the man.
Left unguarded, his plans was at the mercy of fate. It took its sweet time and removed important details in hopes of derailing the entire scheme. Fate didn't stop there. It took out the man's fiber weave, removing his ability to gain access to significant sources for his plan. The malevolent force unloaded its toolbox on the man's carefully crafted strategy. Wrenches, screws, and every assortment of contrivance were thrown his way.
It was too late when the man discovered what had happened. He had camped outside the trolls' headquarters for days that he completely forgot about safeguarding his plans. The damage seemed irreparable, so he did the only thing he could do: to make do with what he had. He tried his best to reform a years worth of plans, but he just couldn't get it exactly as he intended it. Doubt and dismay started to set in, and there were times when the man questioned whether he should push through with his exhibition or just go the easy route and simply ask the woman.
The man needed some air. He took a leisurely stroll to clear his mind. Floating between steps, he trusted where his feet took him. He closed his eyes, took in a deep breath, and let out a long sigh.
"That's not my style," he confidently growled.
"So, uh, that's a no on the value meal?" the lady at the counter asked, trembling where she stood. "T-That'll be, er, 30 pesos."
The man paid the cashier, took a bite of his sandwich, and went back to work.
The fated day came...
And he made do with what he had. The man took his steed and went from door to door to all of the woman's relatives, to ask them all for permission to marry the woman. He had sent her away for a whole day of dance classes so that he could enact his plan undisturbed.
The sun had set when the woman finally made it back home. Her heart raced as she was greeted by the sight of the man. At first, she thought he was a burglar or a ghost or a ghost of a burglar. You see, her eyes aren't as sharp as the normal person's so it took her time to recognize that it was the same one she had been sharing her life with for a few years now.
He opened his mouth, and sang a tune that would make every bard of the realm envious. The man sang his heart out. Even the woman's neighbors recognized his greatness, by shouting praises at him and calling the authorities to make them aware of the angelic performance. Dogs and cats, and every manner of creature howled along with him. Even the earth trembled and the sky wept — tears of joy, of course!
Fate couldn't help but be moved at the display. It had intended for their threads to intertwine, but felt jilted when they rejected the path it had set out for them. Right then and there, it decided to release its hold and let the pair's paths converge.
The man asked for the woman's hand, to which she obliged. He got down on one knee, and put on the ring that he had commissioned on the finger it was destined to bind. It wasn't the grand display that he had initially planned, but he made the best of what was afforded to him. And the rest is, as they say, the continuation of ... his story.
Disclaimer: The events depicted in this story is not 100% accurate. After all, this is his story, not my story. I just decided to include this in my announcement ;) wink wink This took about 30 minutes to write, so I apologize for the lack of cohesiveness. As you can imagine, I was a bit pre-occupied with a lot of other stuff ;)