05-21-2021, 11:29 AM
[align=center][div style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 8pt; max-width: 65%; text-align: justify; line-height:120%"][ tw for gore and throwing up in the last para, not open to attack as plans are in place ]
A testament of callous intent, violence and degradation, but a feast for scavengers. No purpose in wanton loss, in the culmination of minor offence spilling over, untimely conclusion brought about. Misunderstood, never cared to parse, best alone left.
A coward. Man of words, of medicinal means, soft beneath a veneer that bore fine cracks. Not his place here where the land was ravaged, stolen kingdom brought low, tarnished, tainted beneath a rule history deemed necessary to repeat. Mistake once more enacted, followed for ambition won over all else, proceeded a downfall of such vicious grandeur. No phoenix they, nor the children shackled, weighed beneath the seeded desire, that drive that may bring only ruin. A shambling corpse, death escaped though the good of it not tangible.
Mere thieves, murderers that bore blood, felt it lap at them, stained even as the eye might never perceive, association enough for damnation.
Understood the gravity of their misdeeds, the culmination of all that was performed beneath singular banner, the tutelage continued, staged as supple minds were turned to a cause fit only for destruction. Still rebellion rose, twisted thoughts, drew a gentle hum against the seam of his mind, a ponderance he may not silence. Reformation beyond them, too far steeped in this existence, a life built on principles faulty to their very core, hope still wanely flickered.
Wrong, wrong, wrong.
Not his place the field upon which battle was waged, never his, a fragile thing, bone encased in skin, a spectre bound in poor fortune. Best witnessed the atrocities, understood that known by all else and vainly blocked out in a bid to afford unearned second chance. Too much still. Gait slow and uneven dwindled, churned earth catching, breath stuttering, soundless cry painted against parted lips. Too much, all of it.
Wide golden depths swept open expanse, snow and soil mixed, foul the stain, crimson a veil against it all. Still some, others weak, agonising, futile desire to stop the spill of blood, win for themself a chance, acted upon all the same. Dirt clogged his mouth, choking upon it, sputtering cough, copper a tang heavily laid against his tongue. Horror dawned, claws digging, muscle torn into, addition only further fanning panic. He knew not when the tears began to fall, how their heated spill mixed with that which adorned his chin, awash in his own blood, ruin the tongue that sat, thick and heavy, between trembling jaws.
Vision turned, sought respite here where the reaper extended a hand, awaited the inevitable end, the tally only growing. Among the muddy tones stark the ivory, unmoving, small, familiar and yet forgein. Dark princeling towered, assured his this victory, a short fuse snuffed out. Commotion began, renewed combat, aloft bore the weight of broken child. Indeed, apparent he was such, pitiful bid to be free of the support, sharpened points jutting forth, sullied and yet beautiful still. Throat closed, bile rising, transfixed. Wrong, understood his frantic study, the manic inspection of the field for a cause, anything but the execution sought as focal point.
Best he had not, simply stemmed the frantic beat, continued a desperate bid to take any air in. What there was slipped away, a low whistle, teeth held taunt, jaw aching with the pressure. Michael. Heard of his disappearance, never feared for, capable, stronger than most, a man of action if not thought. Should not be here, anywhere but here better. But then he would not be the man that had taken his heart, a fool adorned in stolen trinkets with a heart similarly hued, reckless with a life that he knew little about but wished to pick apart.
Mouth moved, paws extended, trying to shift himself, assist as his mind seized. There was nothing there, thought devoid, want flourished in the absence. Too late, too weak, never good enough. Always too slow.
Beneath did extremities tremble, steps too numerous yet no distance covered, mind overcompensating, miniscule each even as the gulf widened. No chance. Still beneath assault, marble given life once more reduced to stone, awoken only as flesh parted. Almost he heard it, how muscle broke, the contact of it, ragged fragment aside falling, flow following the beat of blackened husk of a heart. Lips moving with no sound, smooth the transition, low brought before position changed, the brief darkness of blink obscuring. Almost he wished to never open his eyes, pretend that all may be well if only he need not witness it.
A scream. His own or another, he knew not the origin, knew only his jaws hung open as the display commenced, audience welcome to witness, cordial invitation extended. So delicate the flesh beneath fine ebony strands, too short the time it held, parting in a mass of ribbons. The world spun, balance gone, earth rushing forth, chin struck. Blissful darkness, nothing left but that cool balm. Short it, never enough even as he grasped at it, wished reduced to a nightmare all that had transpired. Joyous celebration drew his mind back, the foul display central focus.
To look upon their queen was to know her mind was not present, that which held it together, which fastened it in place, had been striped away. Grotesque sight had she been reduced to, adorned in blood and aloft held the length of small intestine, hold almost ginger. Laughter bubbled, spilled forth from twisting lips, tears falling in a ceaseless stream. To think she capable of such, unruptured the mass that trailed behind, at least by she, a contradiction to the brutality enacted upon the man left in her wake.
Was this why they followed her, did those that fell about him find some fragment among the myriad of darkness that acted as a beacon, ever called for, lulled into a false security. Thoughts scattered, head turning. Burning that ejected from his empty stomach, bile all that he may produce, unknown the last time he had bothered to eat. Assured nothing was left began the arduous task of dragging his limp body forth, to her own devices left the mad queen, sole focus the body, her prize left behind as a crimson trail marked her progress across the battlefield.
A testament of callous intent, violence and degradation, but a feast for scavengers. No purpose in wanton loss, in the culmination of minor offence spilling over, untimely conclusion brought about. Misunderstood, never cared to parse, best alone left.
A coward. Man of words, of medicinal means, soft beneath a veneer that bore fine cracks. Not his place here where the land was ravaged, stolen kingdom brought low, tarnished, tainted beneath a rule history deemed necessary to repeat. Mistake once more enacted, followed for ambition won over all else, proceeded a downfall of such vicious grandeur. No phoenix they, nor the children shackled, weighed beneath the seeded desire, that drive that may bring only ruin. A shambling corpse, death escaped though the good of it not tangible.
Mere thieves, murderers that bore blood, felt it lap at them, stained even as the eye might never perceive, association enough for damnation.
Understood the gravity of their misdeeds, the culmination of all that was performed beneath singular banner, the tutelage continued, staged as supple minds were turned to a cause fit only for destruction. Still rebellion rose, twisted thoughts, drew a gentle hum against the seam of his mind, a ponderance he may not silence. Reformation beyond them, too far steeped in this existence, a life built on principles faulty to their very core, hope still wanely flickered.
Wrong, wrong, wrong.
Not his place the field upon which battle was waged, never his, a fragile thing, bone encased in skin, a spectre bound in poor fortune. Best witnessed the atrocities, understood that known by all else and vainly blocked out in a bid to afford unearned second chance. Too much still. Gait slow and uneven dwindled, churned earth catching, breath stuttering, soundless cry painted against parted lips. Too much, all of it.
Wide golden depths swept open expanse, snow and soil mixed, foul the stain, crimson a veil against it all. Still some, others weak, agonising, futile desire to stop the spill of blood, win for themself a chance, acted upon all the same. Dirt clogged his mouth, choking upon it, sputtering cough, copper a tang heavily laid against his tongue. Horror dawned, claws digging, muscle torn into, addition only further fanning panic. He knew not when the tears began to fall, how their heated spill mixed with that which adorned his chin, awash in his own blood, ruin the tongue that sat, thick and heavy, between trembling jaws.
Vision turned, sought respite here where the reaper extended a hand, awaited the inevitable end, the tally only growing. Among the muddy tones stark the ivory, unmoving, small, familiar and yet forgein. Dark princeling towered, assured his this victory, a short fuse snuffed out. Commotion began, renewed combat, aloft bore the weight of broken child. Indeed, apparent he was such, pitiful bid to be free of the support, sharpened points jutting forth, sullied and yet beautiful still. Throat closed, bile rising, transfixed. Wrong, understood his frantic study, the manic inspection of the field for a cause, anything but the execution sought as focal point.
Best he had not, simply stemmed the frantic beat, continued a desperate bid to take any air in. What there was slipped away, a low whistle, teeth held taunt, jaw aching with the pressure. Michael. Heard of his disappearance, never feared for, capable, stronger than most, a man of action if not thought. Should not be here, anywhere but here better. But then he would not be the man that had taken his heart, a fool adorned in stolen trinkets with a heart similarly hued, reckless with a life that he knew little about but wished to pick apart.
Mouth moved, paws extended, trying to shift himself, assist as his mind seized. There was nothing there, thought devoid, want flourished in the absence. Too late, too weak, never good enough. Always too slow.
Beneath did extremities tremble, steps too numerous yet no distance covered, mind overcompensating, miniscule each even as the gulf widened. No chance. Still beneath assault, marble given life once more reduced to stone, awoken only as flesh parted. Almost he heard it, how muscle broke, the contact of it, ragged fragment aside falling, flow following the beat of blackened husk of a heart. Lips moving with no sound, smooth the transition, low brought before position changed, the brief darkness of blink obscuring. Almost he wished to never open his eyes, pretend that all may be well if only he need not witness it.
A scream. His own or another, he knew not the origin, knew only his jaws hung open as the display commenced, audience welcome to witness, cordial invitation extended. So delicate the flesh beneath fine ebony strands, too short the time it held, parting in a mass of ribbons. The world spun, balance gone, earth rushing forth, chin struck. Blissful darkness, nothing left but that cool balm. Short it, never enough even as he grasped at it, wished reduced to a nightmare all that had transpired. Joyous celebration drew his mind back, the foul display central focus.
To look upon their queen was to know her mind was not present, that which held it together, which fastened it in place, had been striped away. Grotesque sight had she been reduced to, adorned in blood and aloft held the length of small intestine, hold almost ginger. Laughter bubbled, spilled forth from twisting lips, tears falling in a ceaseless stream. To think she capable of such, unruptured the mass that trailed behind, at least by she, a contradiction to the brutality enacted upon the man left in her wake.
Was this why they followed her, did those that fell about him find some fragment among the myriad of darkness that acted as a beacon, ever called for, lulled into a false security. Thoughts scattered, head turning. Burning that ejected from his empty stomach, bile all that he may produce, unknown the last time he had bothered to eat. Assured nothing was left began the arduous task of dragging his limp body forth, to her own devices left the mad queen, sole focus the body, her prize left behind as a crimson trail marked her progress across the battlefield.