Post by ecstasy on Nov 27, 2005 16:19:03 GMT -4
Name. Ectasy
Breed. Arabic
Side. cursed
history.of hate
age. 5 forgotten turns of pain
color.lucid
post:
Pacing through the winding patterns of the seemingly never ending forestry, the lucid contours of the latin godessa were soon lurching into imagery. Her visiage set dark, skimming over the surrounding area for a second culprit, her harps percked in nothing but alertness. A harsh call was sent out into the distance, the barren silence annoying the she. Her whipcord slashed irritabley over her slim spinal chord, keeping watch over the habitation. She stood solemnly, captive held by the wooded canopy atop her being. The shade it offered cooling her heated mold quickly. A ghastly chuckle folded coarsely from her parted laburnums as she stepped out into the dismal clearing.
Turn now, flee. You other femmes mustn't near me, for your patheticness shant be tolerated by I.
the demoness spoke clearly, though her warning lay buried and murky within her phrase, it was clearly there. Indeed, she wanted not another femme to be with the radius of her own. No tolerance would be accepted for another, only the bickering and perhaps fighting and massacreing. Her probiscus loomed heavily atop the she's perch, watching the blankened canvas of the surrounding lands for another, ah, the royals perhaps to allow her into their humble lands.
ah, the mock and desire of what all come hence figuration of the set proposal. the dusk struck, to her liking, the absent minded horror taken in by the femme. oh the pain she would rather inflict than to live in the dreaded illumination that of the lights. embedded within the teritorial, there she stood. waiting. the ashen femme of the downfall slowly cleaved at a casual level, her seekers dull with a darkened hue. The solemn wait was nearly overwhelming, though durable. Her lucid hyde gleamed coarsely against the flora of the present vegitation, angry notes to flee from her cerebrum.
the distraught ray of mesmerizing sophistication complied. the drought of the overpowering wander gap within all that held. the continuous streak of the painted figure that pierced the empty sky, specs of your own tears that planted themselves along the navy written book that was so tightly clasped. irritabley, the strained femme set forth, crossing over the dunes of dismal likings. indeed a fancy was taken to the lands, but not yet had she been permitted to explore further. true, the lands would be full of cruel beings such as herself, but what of the opposite race? little did she know of the dreaded lights, all other than they were truely cursed, dammed for eternity. oh, the things she would sacrifice to prevent life on the compelling side. she musnt lie, for indeed her thoughts were morbid and sherely psychotic..a factor that appealed with a high extreme to most of her fellows.
indeed, her masterpiece of life was but deception, for her perception to the twisted society to be the appeal of innocence, though innocent she was not. a sinner she was. Her harps flickered rapidly, her pedastals scraping impatiently at the floor below. The wait would be an afterthought, forgotten once she discovered the true gems of the land, with this thought, the dread of the wait was endured more easily. Her gaze rested over a limp scrap of floral, rejected from its home of the bundles of its kind, an ivoric floral, sticking out queerly from the fluorescent greenery around her. Her peppered plumage sifted gently over her slim spinals once more, only out of anger this go round. A loud sigh was given, clearly within the traps of any beings near. Her sharp cries were piercing, tearing at the nagging silence. Boredly, the femme shifted to amble slowly about, shuffling through the elongated stalks that grew madly around her curvaceous though muscular physique. A low lullaby of but death and brutality began, only interupted with the femme became bored with herself once more.
Breed. Arabic
Side. cursed
history.of hate
age. 5 forgotten turns of pain
color.lucid
post:
Pacing through the winding patterns of the seemingly never ending forestry, the lucid contours of the latin godessa were soon lurching into imagery. Her visiage set dark, skimming over the surrounding area for a second culprit, her harps percked in nothing but alertness. A harsh call was sent out into the distance, the barren silence annoying the she. Her whipcord slashed irritabley over her slim spinal chord, keeping watch over the habitation. She stood solemnly, captive held by the wooded canopy atop her being. The shade it offered cooling her heated mold quickly. A ghastly chuckle folded coarsely from her parted laburnums as she stepped out into the dismal clearing.
Turn now, flee. You other femmes mustn't near me, for your patheticness shant be tolerated by I.
the demoness spoke clearly, though her warning lay buried and murky within her phrase, it was clearly there. Indeed, she wanted not another femme to be with the radius of her own. No tolerance would be accepted for another, only the bickering and perhaps fighting and massacreing. Her probiscus loomed heavily atop the she's perch, watching the blankened canvas of the surrounding lands for another, ah, the royals perhaps to allow her into their humble lands.
The ocean swell turmoils and rolls,
so generously offering me its tolls.
reluctantly they are taken,
secretly knowing I have mistaken.
The output of this?
darkness.
hate.
bitterness.
me.
so generously offering me its tolls.
reluctantly they are taken,
secretly knowing I have mistaken.
The output of this?
darkness.
hate.
bitterness.
me.
ah, the mock and desire of what all come hence figuration of the set proposal. the dusk struck, to her liking, the absent minded horror taken in by the femme. oh the pain she would rather inflict than to live in the dreaded illumination that of the lights. embedded within the teritorial, there she stood. waiting. the ashen femme of the downfall slowly cleaved at a casual level, her seekers dull with a darkened hue. The solemn wait was nearly overwhelming, though durable. Her lucid hyde gleamed coarsely against the flora of the present vegitation, angry notes to flee from her cerebrum.
Now I be reaching,
Inside you forever preaching.
Your scream is but a whisper,
hold tight.
Inside you forever preaching.
Your scream is but a whisper,
hold tight.
the distraught ray of mesmerizing sophistication complied. the drought of the overpowering wander gap within all that held. the continuous streak of the painted figure that pierced the empty sky, specs of your own tears that planted themselves along the navy written book that was so tightly clasped. irritabley, the strained femme set forth, crossing over the dunes of dismal likings. indeed a fancy was taken to the lands, but not yet had she been permitted to explore further. true, the lands would be full of cruel beings such as herself, but what of the opposite race? little did she know of the dreaded lights, all other than they were truely cursed, dammed for eternity. oh, the things she would sacrifice to prevent life on the compelling side. she musnt lie, for indeed her thoughts were morbid and sherely psychotic..a factor that appealed with a high extreme to most of her fellows.
calculations must be perfection,
for the completion of the masterpeice of deception.
I ache for you.
Come closer...
It shant hurt but a moment.
[/center]for the completion of the masterpeice of deception.
I ache for you.
Come closer...
It shant hurt but a moment.
indeed, her masterpiece of life was but deception, for her perception to the twisted society to be the appeal of innocence, though innocent she was not. a sinner she was. Her harps flickered rapidly, her pedastals scraping impatiently at the floor below. The wait would be an afterthought, forgotten once she discovered the true gems of the land, with this thought, the dread of the wait was endured more easily. Her gaze rested over a limp scrap of floral, rejected from its home of the bundles of its kind, an ivoric floral, sticking out queerly from the fluorescent greenery around her. Her peppered plumage sifted gently over her slim spinals once more, only out of anger this go round. A loud sigh was given, clearly within the traps of any beings near. Her sharp cries were piercing, tearing at the nagging silence. Boredly, the femme shifted to amble slowly about, shuffling through the elongated stalks that grew madly around her curvaceous though muscular physique. A low lullaby of but death and brutality began, only interupted with the femme became bored with herself once more.
