car wrecks and plane crashes.

[Kezia Havok]

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http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v105/ ... 2fab4a.png) bottom right no-repeat #0D0D0B; color:#fff; border:4px solid black; filter:alpha(opacity=80); -moz-opacity:0.8; width:325px; padding:5px; padding-bottom: 15px; margin:-55px auto 0 auto;" align=justify>    The smell of smoke lingered in her fur, coat yet twined with soot and ash from the flames she'd fled. Moving from one city to another, it was her way. Fate perhaps, as she'd briefly discussed with Ahren. She didn't believe their lives were laid out before them, predetermined and unchangeable. Yet there were things that couldn't be explained. Themes that made up her life, whether she wanted to admit it or not. Flame and fire were a reoccurring theme, along with the river and a burned wood left in the aftermath of madness. Someone had started the fire, just as the fire long ago in the place that later became "Devil's Forest", for the devil who'd burned it all down. She'd grown up in ashes with ghosts as her only friends. And here again the world came tumbling down, though this time she was there to witness the event—to watch the apocalypse as God's hand tore apart his creation.
    Hollow, empty she walked the streets. Darkness had settled, moonlight the only light source that washed the city in pale silver. She could of cared less, about anything really. Apathy was her only friend now. Indifference, and hatred followed her—hatred and anger for the demon who'd stolen her soul. She was but a pretty little doll, all dressed up in delicate features and raven's hair, but she was rotten inside. Damaged and worthless, a disease plagued her, eating away at her insides and leaving them blackened and burned. A soft smile touched the edges of her lips—the painted on expression of a mad-man. Gold eyes stared back from the mirror leaning against the door, abandoned by some human just before his death so long ago. Disgust filled her, twisting her pretty little face into a frightening expression, curling her fingers into a fist.
    Glass glittered in the moonlight, raining down to the dark street with a soft tinkling like a thousand bells. A dark wetness pressed on her fingers, flowing freely from the gashes inflicted by the broken shards. She stared at it a moment, before moving inside the building to find something to stem the stream. Grabbing a rag, she seated herself back out on the sidewalk, pressing the cloth against her hand while allowing thoughts to sink deeper and deeper into a black abyss, clinging to a past she'd rather forget, yet found herself unable.
    After all, she'd deserved it. There was no one to blame but herself. But in the end, she'd get her vengeance.
    She vowed it.

[Cerulean D'Angelo]

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      He had seen her - the girl, but he had not understood. She had stood outside in the street looking so pretty, so perfect. Her fur had lain just right and the shadows from the barren trees were reaching out to her, trying to get closer to touch the pretty thing. She was so pretty, so beautiful it made his heart hurt. He wished he could look like that. He wished that he could stand there so quietly and be so perfect. If only he could be perfect, if he could do everything right.

      But it was impossible. Mom had disappeared, just after he had gotten to meet her. He wished he were back with dad, with Nox, Psyhke and Zadkiel. But he had not seen them since the fire. He hadn't seen Psyhke in a long time, and he wished he knew where she was. What had he done to drive them away? Especially Nox, who was his best friend, and didn't mind so much when he forgot his words because she knew what it was like. He liked her stutter, and he sort of wished he could stutter. It was cute. But he wanted to be beautiful.

      He followed the other wolf for a few steps, edging around the corner he had been hiding behind. Then he saw the glass fall and shatter, the blood, the elegance of it all. But he did not understand. She wasn't crying or getting angry like most wolves did. She wasn't even frowning. "Huh?" He hadn't meant to say anything, but now he had. He wished he'd kept quiet. He moved back, eyeing the girl, wondering what she would do, wondering why she had done it. He wished he knew.

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[Kezia Havok]

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http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v105/ ... 2fab4a.png) bottom right no-repeat #0D0D0B; color:#fff; border:4px solid black; filter:alpha(opacity=80); -moz-opacity:0.8; width:325px; padding:5px; padding-bottom: 15px; margin:-55px auto 0 auto;" align=justify>totally loved your post leik whoa. poor aquaman. ;;
    She was filthy. So filthy and dirty and tainted. Anything she touched, she'd taint with her blackened, dirty hands. Soiled and marked by sins she'd committed, and those she hadn't. She'd drown the child, unable to love a creature so born of sin. She'd been touched by the devil, left to decay once he'd finished with her. And she'd laid beneath anyone who'd have her, attempting to wash away the original sin by overlaying it with a thousand others. She'd wash her soul in the blackened river, claiming herself purified by what she'd chosen to do. Cover it all up and hide the sickness within, pretending she had a voice and a will, and wasn't simply so weak and powerless. She hated her weakness. Her frailty. The tears she bled when no one else was around, all alone in the darkness. She hated what she had to become in an attempt to love herself, hating herself more and more with the passage of each day and the touch of faceless hands on her flesh.
    The cloth fluttered silently to the ground at her feet, nails biting into the flesh of her palm. Anger, wrath clawed away at her heart, wanting to bite and scratch and scream and yell. But she didn't. Instead, a soft sound greeted her ears and head turned, gold eyes searching the shadows for the source. It was a boy. Not so much a baby, but a youth and a child nonetheless. He'd uttered a sound, backing up once he'd realized he'd alerted her to his presence. "Who're you?" she asked, reaching down to pick up the rag again and press it against her fist. By now, most of the blood had stopped, leaving a scabbed, blackened mess atop her fingers, but she'd rather not let him see it—let him see how disgusting she really was.

[Cerulean D'Angelo]

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      He had been found. He should have expected it, especially after making his presence known in the most obvious way. But still, he had hoped she would have ignored him so he could have ran and hid. Hid from the stars, the sky, the shadows, and the pale light cast on them by everything else. He wanted to find someplace safe and watch her where she couldn't see him. Admire her from afar, never saying anything or doing anything. He wasn't deserving of her attention. He wished he was, wished he could be someone who deserved it. Wished he weren't such a failure, someone who drove all he loved away and left him empty and without anyone, without Nox.
      His eyes widened when she saw him, and he gulped, taking another step back. His breathing was laboured and heavy and his heart was pounding in his chest. His legs felt shaky, but he could not run. He could not even move. She spoke to him, and he nearly fainted as the pressure began to build. He inhaled sharply, looking around quickly, then glancing back at the girl. Still beautiful. She was still there, watching him, perfect and pristine. Oh, how he envied her. "No one," he replied, wishing he could be gone. If being near her hurt him this much, he did not want her to see him. Could he not just run and hide, and perhaps find her years later when he least expected it? It would hurt far less, and maybe, just maybe, the shadows wouldn't sting as much.

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