West and Blaine

The night Hastur appeared,
Blood flooded the streets of Carcosa.
The King stalked the streets, seeking vengeance against those who had turned against him
His wrath was indiscriminate
Making it clear that none would be spared
In fear, the prince went into hiding, taking his courtiers and his friends
To them, he announced a grand masquerade
Spanning seven nights and seven colours

For the first night, blue was chosen
The prince was resplendent
The King unseen

On the second night, the hall was draped in purple
The prince was radiant
The King rejected at the door

The third night was green and the fourth white
The prince took great care to be the most eye-catching
While whispered rumours of the King spread

The fifth night was orange
The prince’s mask no longer hid his anger and his fear
The curtains were drawn so none could see the King outside

The sixth night everyone was draped in scarlet
The rich colour only drew attention to the prince’s pallor
The King’s gaze could be felt through the heavy drapes

The final night was yellow
The prince was first to unmask
And came face to face with the King

The eighth night Hastur appeared,
Carcosa perished.
The king reclaimed his throne as silence roared from the empty streets
The Prince and his courtiers and his friends lay in a sealed tomb
That was once a splendid ballroom
Seven nights had become eternity, seven colours had become decay

And one night, after the years had passed long beyond count
An unassuming play was writ
It’s words a premonition and a warning
That the devastation Hastur had wrought would begin a new
A play that fell into obscurity, then myth, then unreality
Until Hastur reappeared in the sky