11-27-2018, 07:46 PM
[align=center][div style="max-width: 420px; line-height:120%; font-family: arial; font-size: 8.5pt; text-align: justify; margin-bottom:5px"]Murderer. Cannibal. Monster.
Caught upon the fine strands of thought one may find may words lingering, plucked from the mess of the vocabulary given to any who may have come upon the presence of such a beast – roiling mess of flesh and decay, parting of skin until about his structure orifice had been made, hunger touching upon the very strands contained within a structure that should not be. Within a way it seemed to know this fact, felt within the fibres that drew together the mess of it until it flickered in and out of this existence as best it might, clinging to the edges, cracking and breaking apart only to reform once more.
Hell upon earth might it be, this mess of flesh and bone drawn about the core aspect of hunger for the living, for the flesh and the fine network of veins contained within, caught in a prison of its own making.
Better may it have been for both if the one to answer the call, if such may be deemed such for no words found perch upon pale lips, rather home to the curl of a frown was it, had been the man wanted. Child drawn from the threads of heaven and hell, if such places may be rooted within anything one might deem as truth, worked about the core of a mortal being – set apart as this other was, their own thing and discarded for it, outcast in a place of many clinging to the edges for different were they all. Clouded the eyes which find the other, touch upon body that should not exist and almost screams for such, driven on only by the coiling heat of desire, eating along its own prison to continue the cycle.
Within a head toned in shadings of cream and lilac there is no memory of this being nor the things of his past, events drawn about by such a thing which tainted his heart, ruined what once had been a man of honour and kindness, father to few and friend to many no matter his way of acting, brought low by means out of his control. Indeed may have mercy been best, to end the pitiful existence he had found himself suspended within, but nothing of such thing rose within the hollow void of the child, found no root within a heart that seemed missing – so what was the fluttering, the beat of a hummingbird's wings touching along the curve of their ribs.
There was to be no fixing for a creature such as this, no ailment touched him for condemned was he in all ways. Over the dark shape of him eyes roved, found the parting where new mouths had been made, the flickering want of tongues extending and retreating in their disgust, displeased at the tang of salt drawn about the air. They are nothing but shades, colours odd as they reach into the shadings of brown and green, touch upon the lace edge of sky melding with it all, curiosity a gentle touch about their thoughts. Kaisa would not be the next to speak, tightly pressed the lips as the child lingered behind the open gates, silent bystander curious as to what would bring someone such as this here seeking audience with Pincher.
Caught upon the fine strands of thought one may find may words lingering, plucked from the mess of the vocabulary given to any who may have come upon the presence of such a beast – roiling mess of flesh and decay, parting of skin until about his structure orifice had been made, hunger touching upon the very strands contained within a structure that should not be. Within a way it seemed to know this fact, felt within the fibres that drew together the mess of it until it flickered in and out of this existence as best it might, clinging to the edges, cracking and breaking apart only to reform once more.
Hell upon earth might it be, this mess of flesh and bone drawn about the core aspect of hunger for the living, for the flesh and the fine network of veins contained within, caught in a prison of its own making.
Better may it have been for both if the one to answer the call, if such may be deemed such for no words found perch upon pale lips, rather home to the curl of a frown was it, had been the man wanted. Child drawn from the threads of heaven and hell, if such places may be rooted within anything one might deem as truth, worked about the core of a mortal being – set apart as this other was, their own thing and discarded for it, outcast in a place of many clinging to the edges for different were they all. Clouded the eyes which find the other, touch upon body that should not exist and almost screams for such, driven on only by the coiling heat of desire, eating along its own prison to continue the cycle.
Within a head toned in shadings of cream and lilac there is no memory of this being nor the things of his past, events drawn about by such a thing which tainted his heart, ruined what once had been a man of honour and kindness, father to few and friend to many no matter his way of acting, brought low by means out of his control. Indeed may have mercy been best, to end the pitiful existence he had found himself suspended within, but nothing of such thing rose within the hollow void of the child, found no root within a heart that seemed missing – so what was the fluttering, the beat of a hummingbird's wings touching along the curve of their ribs.
There was to be no fixing for a creature such as this, no ailment touched him for condemned was he in all ways. Over the dark shape of him eyes roved, found the parting where new mouths had been made, the flickering want of tongues extending and retreating in their disgust, displeased at the tang of salt drawn about the air. They are nothing but shades, colours odd as they reach into the shadings of brown and green, touch upon the lace edge of sky melding with it all, curiosity a gentle touch about their thoughts. Kaisa would not be the next to speak, tightly pressed the lips as the child lingered behind the open gates, silent bystander curious as to what would bring someone such as this here seeking audience with Pincher.