 |
WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised. |
#halosimple {width:440px; padding:10px; margin:auto; text-align:justify; background-image:url(http://dl.dropbox.com/u/5697571/lykoistar10.png); background-position:center; background-repeat:no-repeat;}
#halosimple .ooc {text-align:right; font-family: times new roman, helvetica, sans-serif; font-style:italic; line-height:1.2em;}
#halosimple p {text-align:justify; line-height:1.5em; text-indent:30px;}
#halosimple .bottom {text-align:right; font-family: times new roman, helvetica, sans-serif;}
#halosimple .bottom p {line-height:1.5em; margin:0px;text-align:right; line-height:1.2em; }
#halosimple .name {font-family: 'Calligraffitti', arial, serif; font-size:32px; line-height:1.5em; }
</style>
Sometimes, the woman wished the two young ones could have remained small toddlers for the rest of their lives. They were equally full of foolish, childish ideas, but today Amnesty remained out of trouble, very much unlike her brother. The sun had risen high and was already on its way into early retirement. It was time for unruly children to go to bed, and that was her only purpose for tonight when she left the mansion and stalked after the trail of her youngest son. The mother’s grimace stretched across lovely, feminine hues as she moved towards the borders. Idiot kid knew that he wasn’t supposed to wander anywhere remotely near the borders without parental supervision. Someone was going to go to bed without supper.
For once, her dearest katana had not been brought with her. It always accompanied the vicious Triarii outside her home, but she had underestimated Oblivion’s ability to move so far away from home in such a short time. It was difficult to oversee two unruly, strong-minded children perfectly, especially when they went in different directions. The pup’s scent was strong and present now, and it was just a matter of time before his mother’s wrath came upon him. ”Oblivion!,” the female called, clawed fingers flexing with badly veiled frustration. The dumb boy knew better than this. Nostrils flared, though now she realized that it wasn’t her son’s scent alone she detected.
Your faith walks on broken glass
[/html]