"The world, oh the world...this good yet bad...the plane in which the unearthing of all character is decided until rest...the bittersweet kiss of a love now gone.", through this act, through the glistening of his tears, through the slit in his chest, the gaping oriface left by his killer and his worst enemy...himself.
As Damien rested, he caught his eye on a familiar memory, a sullen, grotesque depiction of his hero falling, spiraling out into his ultimate demise. This life left for Damien now, is nothing more than a balancing act; the balancing act is rather simple, as if working with in the cogs of Karma or Cause and Effect. Damien is the balance between the mortal realm, the unkept realm that those of the immortal dare not touch for fear of such a realm defacing their own grandeur upon it.
This title has been appointed to many, because this is quite the burden to bear, but what separates Damien from the rest is the deciding fact of his arrhythmic faith and definition. You see, Damien isn't your average hero, more or less nothing short of the anti-hero, not to say he is heart less, more on the lines of self serving, yet is servility to those of the world is adequate enough to put him amongst the ranks of many in the this strife.
"Damn, it's been a good seven years, I have been part of this outfit for seven fulfilling years.", the hint of cynicism exude through the very pores of him.
"Damien, why do you always have to be a smart a**, and of course they have been fulfilling', Diandra retorted, "It isn't as if we haven't saved enough a** in this world to pay our way out of anything." giving a smirk to Damien.
You see Damien, his story is quite the story. It all began at birth, for him being the child of what he was, the supposed sign to all Christian faiths of an impending doom, or apocalypse. Many sickening coincidences surround this, but over all, he wasn't this impending doom, more or less the decider of the world's fate. He, being the son of Satan, the incarnate of supposed evil, has a free will, even though for a good 10 years of his life were spent nagging and bitching on his circumstance, they were spent doing hainess acts against man, yet were spent utilizing and learning of the choices soon to face him. In the deciding fight for his stability, was against the man who took him under his wing and taught him everything he could to help Damien find who he was...what his purpose was.
If we revisit this quote: "The world, oh the world...this good yet bad...the plane in which the unearthing of all character is decided until rest...the bittersweet kiss of a love now gone.", were his master's dying words to his pupil before he bid the world his last adieu. His life, taken by his own hands. I presume you think, "How could a teacher do something that stupid? How could this not taint or effect any of the lessons he gave Damien?" and in any other case, these would be legitimate arguments; in this case however, Dante left his pupil with something no one could take away from him, his freedom. Dante simply taught Damien how to release himself, embrace himself for what he was and engage in the will given to him.
"Couldn't this be any more interesting? I mean I haven't had to kick as much a** as usual...something is a miss."
"On the contrary my rambunctious friend, you haven't looked hard enough, but beyond that...no major problems have surfaced...we just have to.."
"...Keep our ears to the grain and feel things out. That is pathetic, I need action, I need a fight, I crave a fight.", Damien puts on this act from time to time to make him seem as if he has a blood lust, but he is too complicated to just desire the loss of a foe, he savors a fight as if it were an elaborate moving piece of art, a complex chain of events driving him to the next moment in time in a precautions yet reckless and potent manner. He only enjoys teasing Diandra, the one who keeps him sane, his love.
Dear, oh dear, oh dear,
Your fears draw me closer,
Your fears draw me near...
Dear, oh dear, oh my,
Your tears draw my eye,
Your tears draw my sighs...
Dear why cry
Dear why fear I?
Death..is the inevitable
And you prayed for release
Dear, oh dear, my dear,
I am here to end your dread,
Here only to end,
Dear, oh dear, my fear,
My only is your discontent
My only is your resent...
Dear, my fear, dread
On my account you are now dead
On my account just cause has been fed....
"Resting words for a friend, don't you agree?", grinning and passing an eerie mood Damien cackled. "Why hold that against me Diandra, he was nothing more than a cut throat vampire, and at pretty weak one at that...he wished for death, so did I deliver!",he sighed in a godly manner.
"Who the Hell endowed you with these order of who deserves to die or live based on their circumstance!? What the hell makes you think you could ever pass judgment on him because he was..", as tears formed and parsed, few escaping,"because he was a.."
"VAMPIRE, just ******** say it woman, its not that damn hard." he cackled,"Indeed, I can be quite the b*****d, but he did beg, and I do hate to see a man gravel."
Damien was quite the intimidating figure, standing at a good six foot four inches, pretty muscular at that. He usually never exposed himself as nothing more as a common person, wearing humble attire such as baggy blue jeans, usually a t-shirt of one of his favorite bands, and some costume jewelry. His face seemed soft, untainted and of one of a child, however his eyes seemed to perpetually rage on like the fires from which he was cast from at birth. His hair, quite versitile, almost with no definate composition and always changing at his will (there goes that word again), but always covering one part or another of his face. Damien was always armed though, so if someone mistakenly takes him lightly, they may be sickly mistaken. His charm and good looks seemed to entrance anyone, and his intelligence was only match by his good looks and adoration for the world but hate for existence on this plane, to live within such a mortal coil.
As Damien rested, he caught his eye on a familiar memory, a sullen, grotesque depiction of his hero falling, spiraling out into his ultimate demise. This life left for Damien now, is nothing more than a balancing act; the balancing act is rather simple, as if working with in the cogs of Karma or Cause and Effect. Damien is the balance between the mortal realm, the unkept realm that those of the immortal dare not touch for fear of such a realm defacing their own grandeur upon it.
This title has been appointed to many, because this is quite the burden to bear, but what separates Damien from the rest is the deciding fact of his arrhythmic faith and definition. You see, Damien isn't your average hero, more or less nothing short of the anti-hero, not to say he is heart less, more on the lines of self serving, yet is servility to those of the world is adequate enough to put him amongst the ranks of many in the this strife.
"Damn, it's been a good seven years, I have been part of this outfit for seven fulfilling years.", the hint of cynicism exude through the very pores of him.
"Damien, why do you always have to be a smart a**, and of course they have been fulfilling', Diandra retorted, "It isn't as if we haven't saved enough a** in this world to pay our way out of anything." giving a smirk to Damien.
You see Damien, his story is quite the story. It all began at birth, for him being the child of what he was, the supposed sign to all Christian faiths of an impending doom, or apocalypse. Many sickening coincidences surround this, but over all, he wasn't this impending doom, more or less the decider of the world's fate. He, being the son of Satan, the incarnate of supposed evil, has a free will, even though for a good 10 years of his life were spent nagging and bitching on his circumstance, they were spent doing hainess acts against man, yet were spent utilizing and learning of the choices soon to face him. In the deciding fight for his stability, was against the man who took him under his wing and taught him everything he could to help Damien find who he was...what his purpose was.
If we revisit this quote: "The world, oh the world...this good yet bad...the plane in which the unearthing of all character is decided until rest...the bittersweet kiss of a love now gone.", were his master's dying words to his pupil before he bid the world his last adieu. His life, taken by his own hands. I presume you think, "How could a teacher do something that stupid? How could this not taint or effect any of the lessons he gave Damien?" and in any other case, these would be legitimate arguments; in this case however, Dante left his pupil with something no one could take away from him, his freedom. Dante simply taught Damien how to release himself, embrace himself for what he was and engage in the will given to him.
"Couldn't this be any more interesting? I mean I haven't had to kick as much a** as usual...something is a miss."
"On the contrary my rambunctious friend, you haven't looked hard enough, but beyond that...no major problems have surfaced...we just have to.."
"...Keep our ears to the grain and feel things out. That is pathetic, I need action, I need a fight, I crave a fight.", Damien puts on this act from time to time to make him seem as if he has a blood lust, but he is too complicated to just desire the loss of a foe, he savors a fight as if it were an elaborate moving piece of art, a complex chain of events driving him to the next moment in time in a precautions yet reckless and potent manner. He only enjoys teasing Diandra, the one who keeps him sane, his love.
Dear, oh dear, oh dear,
Your fears draw me closer,
Your fears draw me near...
Dear, oh dear, oh my,
Your tears draw my eye,
Your tears draw my sighs...
Dear why cry
Dear why fear I?
Death..is the inevitable
And you prayed for release
Dear, oh dear, my dear,
I am here to end your dread,
Here only to end,
Dear, oh dear, my fear,
My only is your discontent
My only is your resent...
Dear, my fear, dread
On my account you are now dead
On my account just cause has been fed....
"Resting words for a friend, don't you agree?", grinning and passing an eerie mood Damien cackled. "Why hold that against me Diandra, he was nothing more than a cut throat vampire, and at pretty weak one at that...he wished for death, so did I deliver!",he sighed in a godly manner.
"Who the Hell endowed you with these order of who deserves to die or live based on their circumstance!? What the hell makes you think you could ever pass judgment on him because he was..", as tears formed and parsed, few escaping,"because he was a.."
"VAMPIRE, just ******** say it woman, its not that damn hard." he cackled,"Indeed, I can be quite the b*****d, but he did beg, and I do hate to see a man gravel."
Damien was quite the intimidating figure, standing at a good six foot four inches, pretty muscular at that. He usually never exposed himself as nothing more as a common person, wearing humble attire such as baggy blue jeans, usually a t-shirt of one of his favorite bands, and some costume jewelry. His face seemed soft, untainted and of one of a child, however his eyes seemed to perpetually rage on like the fires from which he was cast from at birth. His hair, quite versitile, almost with no definate composition and always changing at his will (there goes that word again), but always covering one part or another of his face. Damien was always armed though, so if someone mistakenly takes him lightly, they may be sickly mistaken. His charm and good looks seemed to entrance anyone, and his intelligence was only match by his good looks and adoration for the world but hate for existence on this plane, to live within such a mortal coil.
