02-17-2019, 01:03 AM
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Perhaps once, some time ago, Bubonicplague found a home. In another world, a life somewhat different than this, he had a place that he could always come back to. It wasn't the territory or the residence that was home to him, no; it was the people. For the very first time in his long, long life, the demon had found himself a family. Only when he inevitably outlived that family did he return to the I have no home outlook. It was the same with Lirim. The end of their relationship too was inevitable; time after time they died, returned with no memory of each other, returned to each other's arms only to die or disappear again. Their love was true, but perhaps not meant to be.
The Typhoon did not exactly feel like home, but it was something close. He had convinced himself as such, at least—only time would tell if his beliefs were true. In the meantime he would remain there. The hound's ears twitched lightly at the sound of approaching footsteps, and he inhaled the scent of bitter sea salt upon food (has she eaten salmon recently?) and, faintly, flowers. He wasn't sure until he heard her voice that it was Goldenluxury. Pincher's sweet, naive daughter—the new captain, a voice added—that he couldn't tell whether she liked him or not. It wouldn't be a surprise if she wasn't particularly fond of him, in all honesty. He was not a good man after all.
Bubonicplague paused his steps and raised his head, sightless eyes turning to face the girl. "I just thought it might be nice to see how you all are faring." He rumbled out. "Seems you've had complications concerning the eruption." A nod of his chin to her new body, before he turned his empty gaze to the scorched jungle. "Don't worry your pretty little head. I've not come here to cause you any more trouble. I'm free to help with any renovations you need done."
Perhaps once, some time ago, Bubonicplague found a home. In another world, a life somewhat different than this, he had a place that he could always come back to. It wasn't the territory or the residence that was home to him, no; it was the people. For the very first time in his long, long life, the demon had found himself a family. Only when he inevitably outlived that family did he return to the I have no home outlook. It was the same with Lirim. The end of their relationship too was inevitable; time after time they died, returned with no memory of each other, returned to each other's arms only to die or disappear again. Their love was true, but perhaps not meant to be.
The Typhoon did not exactly feel like home, but it was something close. He had convinced himself as such, at least—only time would tell if his beliefs were true. In the meantime he would remain there. The hound's ears twitched lightly at the sound of approaching footsteps, and he inhaled the scent of bitter sea salt upon food (has she eaten salmon recently?) and, faintly, flowers. He wasn't sure until he heard her voice that it was Goldenluxury. Pincher's sweet, naive daughter—the new captain, a voice added—that he couldn't tell whether she liked him or not. It wouldn't be a surprise if she wasn't particularly fond of him, in all honesty. He was not a good man after all.
Bubonicplague paused his steps and raised his head, sightless eyes turning to face the girl. "I just thought it might be nice to see how you all are faring." He rumbled out. "Seems you've had complications concerning the eruption." A nod of his chin to her new body, before he turned his empty gaze to the scorched jungle. "Don't worry your pretty little head. I've not come here to cause you any more trouble. I'm free to help with any renovations you need done."
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I AM THE END OF ALL THINGS.
I HAVE SEEN THE FALL OF BABYLON.
I HAVE DRUNK THE BLOOD OF KINGS.
I HAVE SEEN THE FALL OF BABYLON.
I HAVE DRUNK THE BLOOD OF KINGS.