10-08-2018, 04:24 PM
[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 540px; min-height: 6px; font-family:times new roman; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; color:; padding: 20px"]It’s absence had been in good taste. If anyone were to see it like this, it would surely feel shame; shame, something it did not want to bear witness to, surely and truly, for such emotion had no place in a greater being. In a god.
Esklav had been the vessel, but Michael and Lucifer had been the two pieces needed to create it. It felt them inside. It’s body was a prison, the conflicting essences battling for control, resisting it’s Divine Will and attempting to undo the Great Fusion it had thrust upon them. They would see. Everyone would see - they would bow down in collective awe of It, this god, this Hierophant.
It liked that. It liked that name very much. It commanded power, and would be wielded as a sword was, to pierce the unholy flesh of all who opposed it; I am The Hierophant, demiurge of The Pitt. Oh, yes. It felt a strike of glee, a thing it had felt before in two other lives, lives that would propel it over and above the heads of these unknowing mortals. It smiled from ear to ear. The Michael had felt this once when looking to its child. Alas, when Hierophant sought to recollect whom this being was, it almost slipped between its grasp, grabbed too quickly by the Michael in a desperate attempt at keeping its dignity. It tore it back, however. He mustn’t keep his memories from it. It was okay - it would keep them safe. Now... the child’s name had been Selene. She had been devoted to her father, scouring the ends of the earth until she him close to her side.
It wanted this very much. It liked being loved, it decided.
It was supposed to be sick - Esklav the Vessel had said this before it came to know it’s higher purpose - but it was still working to reach the full extent of its power, which would take many days. It would not hurt to return, if only for a bit. The Lucifer told it that that’s how you hooked the mortals in, by giving them a taste of what they were in for. They were so very curious. Like babies, just very old babies.
Hierophrant (Esklav’s form remained the same bright blond as ever, although the weeping wounds and the skinnier build were a change) was outside, staring down a slave. The slave was tripping over it’s paws trying to reply as Hierophant proudly repeated the same introduction, over and over. ”My name is Hierophant. I am the demiurge. Are you a slave? Esklav was a slave. Mayhaps you can become a god like me, but you don’t have a Michael and a Lucifer. Or do you? There are lots of them.” the slave whimpered as Hierophant cheerfully approached it, swinging its paw around only to roughly cuff the submissive on the head. The slave went down like dead weight, and Hierophant blinked. ”Please answer next time. Lucifer does not like it when stupid mortals are disobedient, no, no he doesn’t. Hierophant likes Lucifer very much. He is very kind. He says he likes me too, and that I should let him go, but I do not want that. He’s so funny! Michael is laughing. Haha, ha! Like this!” his laughter was child-like, his face so bright it could rival the sun’s glare. It looked out of place on Esklav’s usually stoic form.
Esklav had been the vessel, but Michael and Lucifer had been the two pieces needed to create it. It felt them inside. It’s body was a prison, the conflicting essences battling for control, resisting it’s Divine Will and attempting to undo the Great Fusion it had thrust upon them. They would see. Everyone would see - they would bow down in collective awe of It, this god, this Hierophant.
It liked that. It liked that name very much. It commanded power, and would be wielded as a sword was, to pierce the unholy flesh of all who opposed it; I am The Hierophant, demiurge of The Pitt. Oh, yes. It felt a strike of glee, a thing it had felt before in two other lives, lives that would propel it over and above the heads of these unknowing mortals. It smiled from ear to ear. The Michael had felt this once when looking to its child. Alas, when Hierophant sought to recollect whom this being was, it almost slipped between its grasp, grabbed too quickly by the Michael in a desperate attempt at keeping its dignity. It tore it back, however. He mustn’t keep his memories from it. It was okay - it would keep them safe. Now... the child’s name had been Selene. She had been devoted to her father, scouring the ends of the earth until she him close to her side.
It wanted this very much. It liked being loved, it decided.
It was supposed to be sick - Esklav the Vessel had said this before it came to know it’s higher purpose - but it was still working to reach the full extent of its power, which would take many days. It would not hurt to return, if only for a bit. The Lucifer told it that that’s how you hooked the mortals in, by giving them a taste of what they were in for. They were so very curious. Like babies, just very old babies.
Hierophrant (Esklav’s form remained the same bright blond as ever, although the weeping wounds and the skinnier build were a change) was outside, staring down a slave. The slave was tripping over it’s paws trying to reply as Hierophant proudly repeated the same introduction, over and over. ”My name is Hierophant. I am the demiurge. Are you a slave? Esklav was a slave. Mayhaps you can become a god like me, but you don’t have a Michael and a Lucifer. Or do you? There are lots of them.” the slave whimpered as Hierophant cheerfully approached it, swinging its paw around only to roughly cuff the submissive on the head. The slave went down like dead weight, and Hierophant blinked. ”Please answer next time. Lucifer does not like it when stupid mortals are disobedient, no, no he doesn’t. Hierophant likes Lucifer very much. He is very kind. He says he likes me too, and that I should let him go, but I do not want that. He’s so funny! Michael is laughing. Haha, ha! Like this!” his laughter was child-like, his face so bright it could rival the sun’s glare. It looked out of place on Esklav’s usually stoic form.