|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sun Dec 07, 2008 1:57 pm
Whose to say that your soul will fade at all.... The one you sold to fool the world... T h e M o r t a l H y p o c r i s y [[..Good God it's the Changing of the Seasons..]] ..A Literate Writer's Chance in Hell.. [Welcome][Story][Rules][Skeletons][Players][OST][Antagonists][Setting][Updates]
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Dec 07, 2008 1:59 pm
h y p o c r i s y .
1. a pretense of having a virtuous character, moral or religious beliefs or principles, etc., that one does not really possess.
2. a pretense of having some desirable or publicly approved attitude.
3. an act or instance of hypocrisy -----------------------------------------------------------------------  [[you should know that the lies won't hide your faults, no sense in hiding all of yours...]]The year is 3998, the earth well beyond it's younger years, as time slips by in an effort to remain a prominent player in the lives of mortal man. Void, the God of the Univese, creator of everything and all, has decided that he no longer wants to bare the burden of raising humanity in his tightly cradled arms. Instead of passing the torch to a more worthy emmisary, he has decided to let it go....[[G o o d G o d Y o u ' r e C o m i n g U p W i t h R e a s o n s]]As earth plunges into chaos, Void cannot help but feel sorry for humanity for leaving them in their hours of need. With his great and glorious powers, Void set onto earth his army of angels and brought his adoring creations to live with him in the great city of Heaven. But not everyone was so lucky to be relieved from the crumbling earth. Instead, Void took away the remainging females' right to bare children, and left them to die. The sun draws ever closer making earth an unbearable rock of hundred degree temperatures.[[G o o d G o d Y o u ' r e D r a g g i n g i t O u t]]Now, without the ability to produce, the population of earth plunges into numbers never before seen in the nearby centuries. The remaning cling to the coldest climates of earth, and most live in Utopious, the City of Hope; which is what was formerlly known as The United Kingdom. Through the years that Void has been missing from their lives, Humanity pleads for a salvation that wont come, until one day...[[G o o d G o d I t I S t h e C h a n g i n g o f t h e S e a s o n s]]A man named Arborelle made his way into Utopious and claimed that he had been in heaven, that he had seen the face of God. The man also claimed he had family, a daughter and a wife, of whom were no where in sight. His body was adorned with jewels and the markings of the Gods, the inhabitants of Utopious had to assume that this man was right, there was a way into heaven, of which, he called, "The Ladder of Heaven."[[I F e e l S o R a p e d... B u t N o L o n g e r]]Utopious has decided that the neglect has got to stop. They can no longer be forgotten by the God's the had faithfully served for so many years. It is time to make their way to their footsteps and question their motives. The humans have made up their minds, the God's would answer their pleas, or they would pay dearly for their damnation. Six select humans will cross the fiery lands of earth in order to find this "Ladder of Heaven," and hope to bring life back into their beloved planet before chaos takes total control... Let's hope they can succeed....[[B u t W h o s e' T o S a y...]]It is not only the humans that have felt the heavy blow of chaos, the inhabitants of the UnderRealm, ruled by Demonia, Goddess of Hell, are already starting to systematically die off. The entirety of the UnderRealm is powered by Human Souls. Since there have been no new humans, and thus no new souls, Demonia has had to watch her people die off one by one, of which she is furious. She has made a bargain with the Humans of Earth, to Aide them in their quest for Salvation. Perhaps she too, can find her salvation, sending six of her best soldiers to fight this war.
Demons and Humans working together to fight angels....
May God Have Mercy on Everyone's Soul.....[Welcome][Story][Rules][Skeletons][Players][OST][Antagonists][Setting][Updates]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Dec 07, 2008 2:00 pm
r e d e m p t i o n
1. an act of redeeming or the state of being redeemed.
2. deliverance; rescue.
3. Theology. deliverance from sin; salvation.
4. atonement for guilt. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- .Y o u r e S u c h a F u c k i n g h y p o c r i t.___//&&;; N o t e s// If you are going to fill this out, please do so all the way. And title your PM by your character's name. Nothing else, just that. Everything else is all completly up to you loves. [size=9][align=center][i]WRITE A RANDOM QUOTE EXPRESSING YOUR CHARACTER HERE[/i][/align][/size]
[align=right][size=12]I Will Have My Vengence…[/size][/align]
[size=10]私は罪がないです。私は、幸福を必要の中にいる人に持って来るのを手伝います。私があなたの顔〔表面〕の微笑が感触の場合にはいくらか を示すように仕向けてとても良いです。私がここにいると心配しないでください。私の手を開いてください もし私を必要としていれば単にあなたの目を閉じて ください ください。きっちりと...貸さないで行ってください。私はあなたを愛しています [/size]
[size=12]I Deserve Atleast That Much…[/size]
[align=center][size=18][b]X x - - - - - - - - >> Name: First, Last ‘ ‘[/size][/b][/align]
[align=center][size=10][b]βuτ ι gø bγ[/b] Nicknames[/size][/align]
[align=center][img]PUT DIRECT LINK HERE[/img][/align]
[b][size=15][xxx] - - - - - >> [/size][size=12]The Person I Once Was;;[/size][/b]
• [size=10][b]ιƒ γøu dιdη'τ κηøω γετ, ι'm α[/b] [gender]
• [b]ι'm α βιτ[/b] [tall or short][b] sταηdιηg ατ [/b] [height]
• [b]αηd ι ωειgh[/b] [weight],[b] sø mγ pαηts αяε[/b] [full or flat]
• [b]łøøκ ιη mγ εγεs αηd sεε ρøøłs øƒ[/b] [eye color]
• [b]βεłιεvε ιτ øя ηøτ, ι’m ηøτ γøuя αvεяαgε[/b] [hair color]
• [b]ρεяmαηαητ τhιηgαmαβøβs? ι'vε gøτ[/b] [tattoos ect none or many-describe them][/size]
[align=right][b][size=12] ;; Is Not Who I Want to Be...[/size][size=15] < < - - - - - [xxx] [/size][/b][/align]
[align=right][size=10]• [b]ι ωαs βяøughτ hεяε øη[/b] [Birth date]
• [b]αηd βεεη łιvιη' ƒøя[/b] [age] [b]γεαяs.[/b]
• [b]gιmmε, gιmmε, gιmmε! [/b]
<3 Like
<3 Like
<3 Like
<3 Like
<3 Like [[add more if needed]]
• [b]øηε ωøяd: εω.[/b] [/size][/align]
[b][size=15][xxx] - - - - - >>[/size][size=12] But it's All I Have... ;;[/size][/b]
• [size=10][b]pεяsøηαlιτγ? Βεττεя sαιd pεяsøηαlιτιεs αs ι hαvε mαηγ[/b] [personality]
• [b]ωhατ αm ι? ωεłł ι αm α[/b] [[choose from the list below: Karavan, Crimson Council, The Fallen..you get it]]
• [b]ωαητ τø sεε ωhατ ι cαη dø?[/b] [abilities-what are you good at… it doesn’t have to be fighting related either. Like... sewing or something like that]
• [b]pαγ cłøsε αττεητιøη αηd sεε mγ hαηdγ-dαηdγ[/b] [weapon/items/clothing/armor. Whatever is extra other than your normal clothing]
• [b]łετ mε mαkε hιsτøяγ [/b] [Why you were chosen to go on this excursion, a paragraph is all that is needed, but you can write more ]
[/size]
[align=right][b][size=12] I Can Be No One Else[/size][size=15] < < - - - - - [xxx] [/size][/b][/align]
[align=right]• [size=10][b]τяιγιηg τø cяαck mγ ηuτshεłł? Wεłł, dø ι hαvε α sτøяγ τø γøu…[/b][four paragraphs with six sentences atleast please. Make it good, I don't care how emo you want to make your character it's your character do as you damn please.]]
• [b]łετ mε dαη¢ε τø τhιs bεατ![/b] [your OST Song][/size][/align]
[b][size=15][xxx] - - - - - >>[/size][size=12] Then Again I Am a Hypocrit;; [/size][/b]
• [size=10][b]Wεłł, ιf ι’m ηøτ яεαł ι høpε ι αm [/b][Gaia name][/size]
[align=right][size=12]Redemption is My Calling…[/size][/align]
[size=10]私は、何が私に起こるか知りません。その数年にわたって私は悪意と憎しみでいっぱいにされるようになりました。私の罪がない側 面は無くなりました。私は年を取った自己がいなくて残念に思います。 戻って私がどのように行くことができるか。 自分を犠牲にせずに．私を助けてください。私が私がかけるように強いられたこのにせのマスクを取るのを手伝ってください。私を助けてください 戻る どの 位か それ 以前はである常だった。私が自分であるのを手伝ってください。 [/size]
[size=12]Hate Is My Master…[/size]
[size=9][align=center][i]RANDOM QUOTE ABOUT YOUR CHARACTER GOES HERE AS WELL[/i][/align][/size] [[Sweetly Borrowed From Elyon]] [Welcome][Story][Rules][Skeletons][Players][OST][Antagonists][Setting][Updates]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Dec 07, 2008 2:02 pm
s a v i o r
–noun 1. a person who saves, rescues, or delivers: the savior of the country.
2. (initial capital letter) a title of God, esp. of Christ.
3. (initial capital letter) Classical Mythology. an epithet of Artemis.
Also, saviour. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- C h a r a c t e r s____________________________//The Karrevan// The Anti-Heros;;
1. Ursula Analeese Algorthe'em
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
The Dark-Half// The Fallen;;
1. Coming Soon
2. Coming Soon
The Crimson Council// The Demonic;;
1. Alexander Hartdegen
2.
3.
4.
5.
N.P.C's// Those who will play a part later;;
1. Arborelle [[later]]
2. Demonia
3. Nicodemus [[later]][Welcome][Story][Rules][Skeletons][Players][OST][Antagonists][Setting][Updates]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Dec 07, 2008 2:03 pm
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Dec 07, 2008 2:16 pm
n i r v a n a
–noun 1. (often initial capital letter) Pali, nibbana. Buddhism. freedom from the endless cycle of personal reincarnations, with their consequent suffering, as a result of the extinction of individual passion, hatred, and delusion: attained by the Arhat as his goal but postponed by the Bodhisattva.
2. (often initial capital letter) Hinduism. salvation through the union of Atman with Brahma; moksha.
3. a place or state characterized by freedom from or oblivion to pain, worry, and the external world. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- E v i l T h i n g s I n R o b e s O f S o r r o w_________//This is where you learn just what your character is and their origins. From the listed sections above, I shall fully describe just what and who you are.The Karavan// The Anti-Heros;;The Karavan is a group of ten ordinary human beings that were given the task to seek out, "The Ladder of Heaven," and climb it. These human beings have no special abilites like magic and the like, but their courage is unmatched. They come from all different kinds of backgrounds, ages, gender and family. It is up to you just what kind of human being you want to be, just know that the Karavan is very important.The Dark-Half// The Fallen;;These fallen angels were once soldiers of heaven whom the Gods' no longer needed or deemed worthy to be im their holy presense. However, they are eager to return to their nomal state. They do not have wings, that is the point of being a fallen angel. However, when standing in front of an object that casts a reflection, one can see the broken shattered bones of what once used to be wings.
They vary in skin color and eye color. They are typically more agile and resiliant than humans, but can be just as easily killed. They do however possess a small amount of magic that is clearly defensive. They are master weapon users and their desire is powerful enough to aide them.The Crimson Council// The Demonic;;Since Heaven has given up on the humans on earth, the creatures that hide themselves in the shadows of hell have grown bored of lack of souls. This does not fit well with their agenda, if earth dies, so does hell. Heaven is the only one protected in this entire story. That of course, does not sit with Demonia, Goddess of the Underworld. She has decided that something must be done about this, and aiding the humans she has been torturing for years seems like her only salvation....
The Crimson Council is a group of demons that Demonia had hand picked to venture onto the human plane and aide the Karavan as needed. The demons involve seem human enough, but have alter forms, what they were in hell. It is up to you what kind of demon you desire. I would much like you to INVENT a type of demon instead of just saying: Demon. [Welcome][Story][Rules][Skeletons][Players][OST][Antagonists][Setting][Updates]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Dec 07, 2008 2:17 pm
b i r t h
–noun 1. an act or instance of being born: the day of his birth.
2. the act or process of bearing or bringing forth offspring; childbirth; parturition: a difficult birth.
3. lineage; extraction; descent: of Grecian birth.
4. high or noble lineage: to be foolishly vain about one's birth.
5. natural heritage: a musician by birth.
6. any coming into existence; origin; beginning: the birth of Protestantism; the birth of an idea. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- O u r T i m e H a s C o m e__________________________ //E a r t h//
Earth is structurally the same, only this time, due to slow drift and the change of climate, has now reverted back to it's original state where all continents were as one. The only island-like mass disconnected is England, Ireland, and antartica, which is now entirely marsh lands.
E x t i n c t i o n//
There are no polar bears, penguins, snow seals, or any animal whose habitat resided in cold climates made of ice. Many animals who are lower on the food chain have been wiped out by the much greater population of predetors who have now joined forces to picked the world clean of any usable livestock. Cows and other herd animals used for meat and clothing are few and far between. Cows are now considered, "a precious commodity."
Vegetation is clearly the choice of food for humanity. Roots, potatos, carrots, most greenery that can withstand the warm climates are harvested and traded throughout the villages and cities. Though wild vegetation is also, few and far between.
C u r r e n c y//
There is no use for money now that the world has taken a step down on the evolutionary ladder. Instead, products and services are exchanged for other products and services as needed.
W e a p o n r y//
Most of guns and other weapons have been outlawed, but that does not mean humanity does not have them. They are around, but production has completly stopped along with bullets. Most of humanity have swords, spears, knives and the like of thier own craftsmenship
C l i m a t e//
The only cold factions lay near the cost of California in the United States, part of where Russia once was, and most of the European countries that shared an ocean with England, which is now the coldest on Earth. The Karavan resides here, most other larger villages lay near or around England, which is now called, "Utorious."
O t h e r I n f o r m a t i o n//
Most of Africa and middle-eastern countries are what the Utorians call, "The Wastelands." They are nearest the sun and are almost always covered in it. Night does not provide sanction because it too is plagued by temperatures in the high eighties. During the day, especially in the afternoon, temperatures reach new heights, in the low hundred, usually between 106-120 degrees.S t a r t i n g P o s t s______________________________//The Karavan begins in Utopious, you are doing what you normally doing. There is nothing specail, for the first few posts, you shall be doing nothing more, because you know that you shall be leaving your village. You most likely are going around to meet the others that will be with you.
The Crimson Council begins in the Underworld. You are gathering your things, and will meet up with Demonia shortly. You have never met the others you will be joining.
The Fallen shall begin awakening in the chambers of Heaven, about to be summoned by the Metatron and by Haphestus. You have no idea why you have been summoned.[Welcome][Story][Rules][Skeletons][Players][OST][Antagonists][Setting][Updates]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Dec 07, 2008 2:18 pm
desire
–verb (used with object) 1. to wish or long for; crave; want.
2. to express a wish to obtain; ask for; request: The mayor desires your presence at the next meeting.
–noun 3. a longing or craving, as for something that brings satisfaction or enjoyment: a desire for fame.
4. an expressed wish; request.
5. something desired. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- A M o m e n t t o C o u n t O u r L o s s e s______________//T h r e a d//© © © © S t o r y l i n e//© ©©B l a c k L i s t e r s//© None, that's good. Keep it that way. [Welcome][Story][Rules][Skeletons][Players][OST][Antagonists][Setting][Updates]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Dec 09, 2008 8:12 pm
 Xx__________ A s h e s A s h e s___________xX Hell had been immoderately silent for the past month, if time had a measure at all in the depths of despair and unreason. The inhabitants had lost all track of the concept of time when it had forthwith occurred to them all that humanity had shown a lack of death, which was stripping these dark dungeons of hate and chaos of their former livelihood. The great door way carved in stone and blood had been left to rot, a forgotten pathway from the light to the dark, and one would merely have to walk through to find this decrepit city. The creatures of shadow had grown restless, burdened with the heavy weight of boredom, to say the least.
The doorway to hell itself had been quiet for days, Demonia found herself lying beside it, her head propped up on its entrance, and still, nothing had come. Not even an earth creature so miniscule, like a grasshopper; of whom would grace her presence with a soft hum of its violin like tune, and then be set free, back to it’s place of belonging. Demonia had a reputation to hold as the mother of the entire underworld, but she did avoid destroying the lives of creatures’ smaller than she. The main suburbanites that called this atramentous castle home, gathered each day in the streets looking to the vacant whole from this world to the next with a longing no mortal man would ever understand.
For years, mortals had feared that which called itself a, “demon,” though they were clearly nothing more than a mere image of humanity. Over the years living underneath their mortiferous brothers had proven fatal. The poisons and toxins that man had made themselves seeped into their caver ness home and killed off many of their fellow comrades. Perhaps that it was humanity that should take a long, hard look at themselves before pointing fingers in who is more sinister than who. The Darellites, as Demonia had fostered them, were nothing more than strange creatures damned to this darkened place by man, and chained here by God himself. There was no more evil in this place then there was on every syllable an angel spoke in Heaven.
Demonia stood in the threshold of her castle, an aphotic edifice built by the Darellites to her honor. They have constructed statues in her name, immortalized as their one and true God. Though at first it had only flattered her, to say the least, now, she accepted such praise by returning the love for her fellow comrades. She was their matriarch, their savoir, who brought them solace in the long nights of suffering as humanity reeks it’s unavoidable wrath upon the foundation of earth. And that, is where her wandering mind lingered, for there were forces at work, attempting to assassinate her, in a rendition of, “holy war.” How stupid they were to think that after all these years of slumbering in silence, building herself a grand army of Darellites that could crush an entire existence of angels off the face of this existence? But that could not be helped. Both sides knew the dangers of starting a war on the deadened face of earth, existence would cease to comply, and only the void that once filled this place would rule over right and reason.
Black lace and velvet grasped loosely at the pale skin that Demonia had come to know and love. Her bosom was covered by a lovely blood-red bodice, the silk ribbon flowing all the way to the floor. Black velvet dresses along with petticoat, parted wide in the front revealed her lace stockings and black heels. So she was the Goddess of the Underworld, what reason was there to be modest? Her reasoning’s for modesty died the day her heart shattered, along with many other attributes that had once been what dictated her thoughts and actions. But no longer…
“Your Majesty? You have been messaged by the Metatron. He has left this in your wake, M’lady.” The Darellite messenger had been standing at the entrance to her thrown room for quite some time, most probably awaiting a good time to open his mouth and ask for her attention. Her thoughts were clouded with the images of her former life. ‘Haphestus, look what you have reduced me too…’ Her heart, or what was left of it’s uncultured voice, whispered into her head, which was having a hard time ignoring.
“Oh. Has he now? Then we must not keep him waiting for our immediate reply..” Demonia stood, her long dress trailing behind her as she made her jovial way to her servant, who handed the scroll to her with a deep bow. Demonia smiled gracefully at him, and opened, so they both could see the words therein:
Dearest Demonia, Fake Goddess of Darkness…
It began, and Demonia and her servant snickered together like two school students reading over a love note. “It continues…”
We, in heaven, are most appalled that you have even decided that a war fought through the eyes of man was appropriate for thy situation. We must gather our heads and our dignity and meet one another face to face, and discuss what has been done and start arrangements immediately, pending that thou will step down as Lady of Shadows, and repent for thy sins. You MUST avoid contact with the humans you seek; they are nothing but fragments of a dieing race and shall fill your thoughts with ideas of redemption. For this, is beyond your control should you decide to continue this foolish nonsense. You have a fortnight to reply. We await your reply with heavenly desire.
Sincerely,
Metatron, Angel of Discord
The two of them stared at one another, and then back down at the letter before them, laughing as hard as they could muster. “Foolish?” Demonia managed through her sheer amusement. With that, she cleared her throat, took hold of the letter, and tore it to shreds. Her eyes were blood-shot, no longer white on either side of those crimson irises. Demonia turned her body towards the door, and staggered out, anger filling her every vein.
“I will show them. I will show them all!” She screamed.
“Your Majesty? Tell me what it is and I shall have it done.” Her servant yelled as he chased after her.
“I will show them all just how foolish the Goddess of the Underworld can be. They will pay… they will pay in blood and sorrow. But most of all, they will suffer! Every Angel in Heaven shall burn with fire and brimstone, and I will have Void’s heart in the palm of my hand… I can assure you of that…” Demonia had made her way to her bedroom, and slammed the door. She needed to calm down.
“Haphestus, may God have mercy on your immortal soul…” She whispered, as she sat upon her bed, her head lowered into her hands. Xx________ W e A l l F a l l D o w n__________xX
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Dec 09, 2008 8:13 pm
Modest Alien Waltz With but a slight of hand...  The hot winds of the underworld blew the laughter of his mistress along to his ears, without every actually hearing them, he knew the words she spoke. His hands crumpled into tight fists as the name Haphestus was uttered from her beautiful vocals. The name alone caused his fury to blaze uncontrollably, his blood to boil as if he were fire incarnate. His eyes were stirring, the greenish brown was darkening quickly as his anger ran unchecked, that was until he heard her door slam in the distance.
"Ah, my goddess...will you not reconsider this?...", his soft voice spoke in no tone even an angel could have any hope of hearing.
His body shook violently for a second as his mind calmed itself, he was forgetting about the so called angel that had forsaken his Demonia to this hell. His eyes seemed to lighten again, his fists slowly relaxing into gentle hands again, the rage all but gone. Could he not have been hers in a life before? No, he should not be having these thoughts, his goddess was never his to have. He was hers, hers to command and use as a sacrificial lamb if she so chose it. He was her knight, her anything if it pleased her, his life of servitude was nothing compared to his devotion to her. Whether he was ever truly free or not, he would stay by her side until the end of all days, and even beyond such a time.
His movements were lightning quick, each foot resounding as he strode forward across the familiar pathway to her castle. Even after a million times of walking by here, he still marveled at the stones that were shaped in her image. Her face carved in stone was a disgrace though, they had failed to capture her true beauty in such an unworthy medium. If he had been the one to do so, he would have crafted a figure of crystal, with beautiful Onyx set in the eyes, with pure white pearls for her smile. He tore the thought from his head and spat it out in a curse so low none would hear. He now thought back to that damned Angel that had left Demonia for dead so long ago.
"God may have mercy on him, but I will not. Pray that his and my paths never cross...my queen", he whispered as he danced up the steps of her castle.
He came to the doors in seconds, and with the littlest of ease, he threw them open and swiftly closed them behind himself. He turned to the great hall and smirked, she would be in her room where she could calm down if he knew her as well as he had thought. He wanted to see her once before he did anything else, but he would give her the peace she was searching for in her lonesome. Some alone time, that was what she wanted right now, and he was all but pleased to give it to her. He wandered aimlessly through the dark corridors and found her room eventually, with this he leaned against the wall and waited. When she was ready, she would reveal herself and he would follow any words she spoke with the utmost loyalty.
....all that is left is cinders in place of a broken heart.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Dec 09, 2008 8:14 pm
The room itself was by far larger than all other quarters that made this darkened monument as massive as it was. Of course, Demonia was not a behemothic fan of domiciles of this size, but her family had been so kind to offer her such a quiet hovel to hang her tired head. In the time where she roamed the halls of Heaven, as the Angel of Mercy, there was no end in sight to where she could travel. She was even given free roam of the land of man, where she walked as a human her self amongst those she was said to protect. But no longer. Those images of phosphorescent clouds, comprehensive acropolis', they a nihility. Not a force on earth or in heaven or hell could bring her back to her former glory, if there was glory there to begin with.
There were treasures lining the vanity made entirely of human bone, carved by the hands of Necris, the Demon of Bone. It was a gift, just as were the items that concealed the top of the vanity itself. They were things stolen or found in the world of man, especially after earth had begun to crumble. Humanity had ceased to exist in certain areas of the planet, and it was these places that the Darellites were able to venture too and find things they thought worthy of her glory. Demonia never felt in the least bit worthy, for it was Heaven, of whom she worked for, that had casted these creatures to this hell....
The Goddess of the Underworld sat upon her velvet armchair, the feeling of the fabric soft against her barren flesh. The mirror instantly projected her image as she shifted in place finding her comfort zone. Her eyes gazed into her mirror self, those crimson pools so full of life, and yet, so full of hate and contempt. Perhaps not for those who had wronged her, but for her own proprium. How cruel fate was, her own odium was not for those who had made her life crestfallen, but for her own person. How she wished her reflection would reach through that bone decorated mirror and take hold of her throat, raping her of life and vitality. To feel the cold embrace of death for the first time, instead of this retched awkward existence that plagues her every whim.
Memories tainted by blinded sight, how she remembered happiness in it's most innocent form, and yet, how twisted and evil it had been coiled up in a false pretense. The notion that happiness could ever be achieved by acting, "saintly." Virtue was for the weak, and the moronic, of which, Demonia was neither. She knew the consequiences of acting on behalf of a spirtual being, and blindly she was lead into the pit of despair, her sorrows and woes the only things to guide her to this very spot. Contempt scouraged the beautiful marks on her face as the anger in her blood began to boil over, and all that she had collected from her children fell to the floor in a fitted out rage of self loathing and desire. The sound of breaking glass could be heard from down the hall and possibly to the room beyond had she put any more force into her fit.
A small shard laid waste to the back of her hand, watching as the tiny droplets of blood made their escape. She was a Goddess, how could she bleed? Demonia allowed the blood to flow back through the wound and into her blood stream, the dark blue glass falling to the ground with the rest of it's body, and the wound finally closing, as if nothing had disturbed the perfect flesh of her dainty hand. "Graceful..." She thought to herself, gathering her dresses and stepping lightly over the mess and opening the door to her bed chambers. The hall was empty to her left, had she been less alert, she may have walked straight into her cohort, Alexander, but she was much more diligent than that...
"Alexander. I did not expect to see you until the meeting later this evening..." Demonia imagined he had heard her little, "accident," but decided that it was best left unmentioned. Alexander had been with her for many years. Since the moment his parents left him to her care, Demonia had taken a special interest in him, why, she had not know at the time. And even now, her desire to bring him to life was a mystery, though it was not worth solving. Alexander had shown the most loyalty of all her worshippers. He had killed for her, served her, and had remained by her side through all of her emotional fits, how many hours had he spent watching her as she made a mockery of herself. Her former emotions taking a hold of her and taking her for all the Demon was worth. Had she been anything less than a half-celestial, half-assaimar, Demonia might have perished along while ago.
"But I could use your company. Please, come in." Demonia opened her arm so as to let him pass and enter her bed chambers. When he did enter, however, nothing of her fit would be visible, during their little introduction to one another, she had arranged the items back upon her vanity, using on her given demonic powers she had obtained once entering the Underworld. There were perks to living so deep under ground. One learns things. Not just learn, they master, and Demonia was a master of using her mind. Perhaps that is what made her so successful in the eyes of her followers. She learned the trade of being a demon faster than those who had been born in the pits of dispair. Demonia, beautiful, intelligent, courageous, and beyond infininently deadly. Perhaps heaven should fear more of her than that stupid letter they had so sweetly sent down to her keep. The Metatron would perish first. His life must end, sooner, rather than later.... 
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Dec 09, 2008 8:16 pm
Modest Alien Waltz With but a slight of hand... The words his lady spoke flowed like an oceans currents straight to his ears like they had no other purpose in the world but to drag him under and keep him there. His feet took him as soon as she invited him into her room, he could only follow as he entered. He pressed himself against the nearest wall and looked toward where she stood. He had heard the results of her anger very clearly, the glass shattering as it hit the ground, her fury was something he didn't exactly enjoy. When he turned to look at where the sound had originated, there was no trace of anything at all, no splinters of the glass at least. He looked her over and did not see anything out of place, no cuts, no blood, no tint of altered skin, she was still in pristine form. He let a crocked grin creep across his mouth and closed his eyes as he faced toward the ground. If he ever wanted to be anything more than just a right hand man, he would need to learn powers such as hers. Her body was nearly invincible, her powers were unmatched anywhere in this world and the next. He never meant that he wanted to overthrow her, but maybe someday, he could be her king, and her his queen. He shook his head slowly, clearing his thought of such things, and looked back up at her.
"I am glad I can be of some comfort, my queen", he replied to her last words finally.
.In his head, he was just the slightest overjoyed that she wanted his company, well, company, and he was glad to give it to her.
"If it's not too bold, may I ask what is wrong?", he asked in a sweeter tone that he had expected to use, he hoped that she would not notice such a thing. If she had, he would find it unbearable to stay in this room with her for fear of losing his mind completely.
He crossed his arms across his chest and leaned a bit more against the stone walls of her home, he awaited her response with eager ears. Just her voice would make him swoon as if he were a young boy in middle school talking with his sweetheart. How she did it so easily was beyond him, and as much as it annoyed him to be so stricken, he wouldn't wish it away even if he had the chance. Again he looked to the ground and washed away the thoughts of being at her side as a king. Oh, how these thoughts penetrated his mind and made him feel insane on a daily basis. How just her scent sent him into a world all his own, how her sweet voice would make him lose his tightening grip on reality. She was everything to this slave, and he would be whatever she needed at any time she wished of him.
"I've seen the wicked fruit of your vine, destroy the man who lacks a strong mind", he whispered as he pushed those thoughts away once again.
They felt like they were getting stronger and stronger with each passing moment. The words explained her effect on him, her wicked fruit being everything about her. Her beauty, her wisdom, her leadership, her everything, and with all of these, she was destroying his very mind. He took his left hand in his right and squeezed until he heard a satisfying crunch of bone being turned to dust. He grimaced for a moment before he felt the bones healing within, he wasn't as strong as her, but this he could do. The pained expression faded and his half smile returned to his face.
....all that is left is cinders in place of a broken heart.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Dec 09, 2008 8:20 pm
Xx__________ A s h e s A s h e s___________xX “Oh. Tish-tosh, Alexander. Do not loom about like a fly on the wall. Come. Sit. You know your omnipresence brings me comfort. If that is so hard to believe.” Demonia whittled the stomach of a vacant armchair, and motioned for Alexander to take a seat. It was his nature to stand guard, to be ever alert while in her presence, and in some way she did favor him because of it, and others, she was startled that someone had taken an interest in her well being. For the moment, she shrugged it off as nothing more than duty. He was, after all, her guardian, among other things. Alexander was a strange being of her own creation. His personality was owed to his own, but everything else was something short of a miracle. Demonia had first thought to leave the carcass to rot in the fiery pits he had been murdered in. But her heart told her to return to him, to take him into her graceful arms, and from her bosom, his life was returned.
Evil befell his parents, for she could not let two of these creatures live past their prime. How could they have taken their son and offered him to her as if he was nothing but an allotment of furniture they could dispose of if ever they desired so. But to Demonia he would become something more than that, something greater than his parents had deemed him worthy of. It was in that avail that Demonia envisaged his minute existence. It was personal, just as Alexander had been taken for granted, so had she. It was just fortunate enough that the young Alexander was far too innocent and tiny to remember any fraction of his former life, where as Demonia had to live with the memory of her own misfortune every waking minute.
The sphere shaped bottle of hair perfume cracked as she crushed it between the palm of her hand and her frail fingers, which were strong as titanium if so desired. The contents spilled immediately and the glass fell to the vanity’s face. Why did her own mind divagate to such places that brought her misery? All of that could be explained when annotating her aforementioned existence into a comprehendible language. Demonia had once been an angel, and it was true that her angelic emotions were trying to elevate her old habits. With every breath, she was fighting that feeling, how swiftly it came without warning. If she could mentally impale those thoughts, how she would have done it years ago.
It was then she effectuated the circumstances of her anger, her eyes rotating to the mess she had been making with her favorite perfume, which she wore religiously. How strange she must have looked in the eyes of her companion. But she did not bother to take notice in him for the time being. Instead, she gathered her pride and collected herself to the silk screens that lined the back wall, a large open doorway leading into her closet. Demonia was sure that one habit she annexed would never die, and that was her fascination of looking pulchritudinous, no matter where she went. Undressing, Demonia thought it best not to leave Alexander to his own thoughts, ignoring his final statement. Alexander prided himself in knowing the inner psyche that Demonia barely understood herself. Yes. Haphestus would die, at her own hands, but she had to speculate the circumstances of such an act. Would she be able to drive a sword through his heart, as he had done to her all those years ago?
“Give me your thoughts on your new mission, Alexander. I can sense a bit of longing to project to me your feelings for something. As bleak as you are in expression, I have a sense for all things in our Underworld…” Demonia emerged from the silk screens. Her long dark hair now laying about her like a plashet of blood from a newborn kill. Her long obfuscous dress had been replaced by a lengthened green habiliment, the ends of the long sleeves and collar were etched with velvet trim. The ends of the dress itself had an ornate pattern embellished throughout. It was not as formal as she would have liked, but she was comfortable, and what more could a woman ask for?
The Goddess sat herself across from Alexander, one leg statuesquely over the other. Her right arm dangled over the armrest, while the other held up her head, as it rested upon the back of her hand. Her eyes so permeated with adoration and regard. “As for the question between statements. Old habits die hard, if they even die at all.” With that, the dark-haired woman silenced, her eyes still fixated, waiting for answers that would either escape his lips in truth, or lies, and be revealed in the pits of his soul which were hidden in his eyes. The doorways into everyone and anything’s soul. No one, aside from she, escaped that infinite truth.Xx________ W e A l l F a l l D o w n__________xX
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Dec 09, 2008 8:21 pm
Modest Alien Waltz With but a slight of hand... He put his arms at his side and took a step toward her, "Well, if I may, it is just a bit hard to believe", he exclaimed with a short laugh.
He looked up at her with nothing but adoration, it was a harsh joke to play on her, and he would regret in a few short minutes. He ignored the chair she had motioned for him to take and walked to her side, still keeping his eyes on her beautiful form. He pressed a finger to the arm of the chair and traced it across a few times before he walked behind it. He slung his arms around her and rested his chin on the corner of the head rest. He felt like it might be wrong, like his earlier thoughts, and pulled back a bit, moving his arms from her. Walking back to her front, he knelled down and bowed his head slightly, still keeping his eyes up.
"...But, I do believe you", he stood again and took the seat she had signaled for him to sit in. "I trust every word that comes from your lips", he added a second later to accentuate his point.
As he looked on at her face, his mind was drawn to her luscious lips, oh how he would die for a taste of her lips. 'What am I? some adolescent child with a crush?' he cried out at his own mind, 'such things are not mine to desire, nor to wish for'. Knowing the truth and trying to hide it, he was getting good at it. She was reading him like an open book, and he was, but only for her. It bothered him how she could see into his soul so easily, and at the same time, he was glad she could. How were these feelings so complicated? How could he live his whole un-life and never find something so annoyingly amazing?
"My thoughts, Lady Demonia, are simply this...", he started to say and quickly tried to re-word it all. "It may not be my right to....but if I should come across your former lover....I will not hesitate to kill him..."
It was on this note he stood and bowed to her ever so slightly, he knew it was possible to strike a chord with this kind of talk. He had left her for dead, and yet she still cared deeply for him, whether she admitted it or not. 'his intentions are to rid this world of you, the dark queen...to take your presence away from me...I will not...I cannot let this go' he thought as he reached into his long jacket and fished out a small paper package. They were scarce and harmful, but he was strangely addicted to them. He put one in his mouth and snapped his fingers before it, the end lit up with flames and he drew a long breath, inhaling smoke. It was the one thing his former race created that he enjoyed, cigarettes. He took another step towards the door and exhaled, he needed to calm himself or he would lose his temper again and it would not be right to do so before the love of his existence.
"I....please excuse me, my dear Demonia", he said as he took another drag of the cancer stick.
....all that is left is cinders in place of a broken heart.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Dec 09, 2008 8:23 pm
Xx__________ A s h e s A s h e s___________xX 'Such a strange chain of events..' Demonia thought aimlessly to herself, as her keen eyes grazed Alexander's every movement, orchastrating his next move with her own intelligence. Demonia had spent the first half of her existence scrutinizing and mimicking the actions of her former creator. Though she hated him moreover than anything else on this miserable plain of inanimateness, it was He who had catechized her about the ways of this and that. Most of which she was still mobilizing throughout her life in the Underworld. Perhaps that is the inducement of why her heart could not find it to just nirvana Haphestus' hold on her every being?
But of all the phenomenon in this universe and the next, all of which Demonia was aware of, Alexander had stumped her ever stalwart mind by the last thing she had expected of him. His arms embraced her, his hands moving over her arms and coming together just gently atop her bosom. It was a perplexing feeling, being held by another's embrace that was not Haphestus's. There was something innocent inside what was happening, something inexperienced. The sense that Alexander was as confused about this notion, if not more, than she, was all she was thinking. Demonia had barely enough time to lift her hand to his arm, not sure if she was going to move them or embrace them, before Alexander broke his hold on her seemingly naked body.
Demonia followed his body once again, the warmth of his skin still lingering where he had once been encompassing. Though a demon, as were most, with coldness running through their veins, their skin as if stone, Alexander left a summery feeling on the naked flesh of her neck. Demonia left it to the idea that he was a Demon of the Fire, scorching eyes, piercingly hot skin, warmth was in his nature.
He was in front of her now, kneeling in her wake, like the knight in shining armor taking his maiden's hand into his own. Though she was certainly not a maiden, and the light in this room was too dim to glimmer that silver armor she knew Alexander was not wearing. This was the typical desire for one's savior, to want to envelope one' self into passion with that whom saved one's soul. 'Kill..him..' Even her own vocal cords had emmited those all so familiar immortal words. Her hands around his throat, taking his very existence and wiping it clean from this world. He would pay dearly, but that was not the issue here in front of her. It was Alexander...
How could he pledge such loyalty to the likes of her? Demonia was still in love with her former lover, in some small measurement, to say the least. And here he was, knowing full well that circumstance, and Alexander still felt himself drawn to her every disposition. But it could not be helped. Demonia favored him above all else, it was all premature, he would soon hate her, in her bones, she could feel it. Alexander was in too deep, and Demonia was well beyond her years to attempt to revert him away from such feelings of love, desire, and lust.
It was then she noticed that he was leaving, his cigarette in hand, which was normal for him. It made him seem dignified, almost, elegant. But she was too angry to even bother with the way he looked right now. The fact still remained, he was walking away from her, without so much as her thoughts on the whole notion. It was her lover in which he wanted the chance to murder, not some random angelic hound that needed to be put of of misery. The chair arms underneath her heated body began to crack and splinter as the rage welled inside of her mind and body, and in a matter of moments, they broke entirely off shattering to the ground.
"You ungreatful..." Demonia sung open the heavy wooden doors, flying off their hinges and slamming to the ground below. "How DARE you!" Demonia took hold of Alexander's shirts, however much taller he was than her, and threw him against the back wall, her tiny frame trapping him. Doomed to listen to her outrage without question or the ability to get away. "You pass your judgement upon me, and you decide that it is best to walk away? You are a fool to speak so soundly in my omnipresence!" Xx________ W e A l l F a l l D o w n__________xX
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
