[M] Your rocky spine - Printable Version +- 'Souls IPB Archive (November 2007–October 2012) (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb) +-- Forum: Dead IC (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb/forumdisplay.php?fid=110) +--- Forum: Dead LASKY (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb/forumdisplay.php?fid=52) +--- Thread: [M] Your rocky spine (/showthread.php?tid=23960) |
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- Sirius Revlis - 01-02-2012 [html]
[html] wordcount: +543
A rogue mood had stolen him, and lingered in him like a fire. The woman, Isabella, had lit it, and although that day she had sought to quench it, it lingered still beneath his skin, fueling the monarch with restlessness.
Sirius Revlis Hail the Conqueror Worm .gsiri-01 {width:500px;margin:0px auto;text-align:justify;line-height:15px;font-family:Georgia, Helvetica, serifs;font-size:12px;letter-spacing:.75px;word-spacing:1px;} .gsiri-01 .ooc {text-align:left;font-style:italic;font-size:11px;border-bottom:1px dotted;padding-bottom:5px;letter-spacing:.90px;} .gsiri-01 p {text-indent:40px;padding:0px 0px 5px 0px;} .gsiri-01 b {font-size:13px;letter-spacing:1px;} .gsiri-01 .name {text-align:center;font-family: 'Permanent Marker', cursive;font-size:50px;line-height:20px;} .gsiri-01 .quote {text-align:center;font-size:10px;padding-top:10px;letter-spacing:10px;text-transform:uppercase;}</style>[/html] - Ezekiel de le Poer - 01-02-2012 [html] The savage in man is never
quite eradicated Word Count » 690
He had not intended to react in such a manner, but he was a creature of fire and had no control over the internal whims of a lion anymore than he could pull the moon from the sky. It had been an accident. A single, stupid accident and his world had crumbled. This was perhaps inevitable; his constructed walls rested on unstable ground and were subject to a swamp of emotions that had been bottled up for months now. When the stone collapsed, he was left raw and alone. This too, did not surprise him. Who could he turn to now? A woman that wanted his blood, another who never challenged him, and those lesser beings that came in and out of his life yet like shades. All it had taken was seeing her face and his world had been set aflame. Ezekiel did not remember where he had found the vodka. Perhaps her home, when he had gone there out of desperation. She had been a terrible drunk for so many years, and even now, he did not understand why. The clear fire-water did not make him feel better; it only filled his head with red fog and stole control from his body. Being drunk, as he was now, was not entirely foreign to Ezekiel but he had spurned such things for so long that his tolerance collapsed with the same speed of the castle. He had traveled far west, carrying the painting, carrying the bottle. No weapons joined him, only the bag, because he had been smoking since he had first knocked over the image and seen the ghosts of what once had been. So in his madness, this thing caused by poison and smoke, he did not think of repercussions. He thought only of his fury, his sorrow, the grief he had not faced. Gabriel had been faced with a hurt, but recognizable, loss. She…no she had stabbed him in the back and dug into his back, as if this might one day open a path to his soul. He had killed for her. He had thrown away everything he had once had to please her. He used the vodka to start the fire, and he had watched it burn with hate in his heart. They faded into flame, a boy now lost to this beast, and a girl who had chosen to flee from the only person who loved her. Had she but asked, he would have gone with her. It was a devotion unworthy of all others. Ezekiel might have, if she had asked, crossed a line even he did not realize was fading between them. Her eyes burned and he felt an uncomfortable heat in his loins. Did he really think of her in such a way? Perhaps. Who else could he have? The women of Inferni were nothing like the crimson siren who alone had been able to ease the torment within him, even if she was at its heart. She was the eye of the hurricane and as long as they were together, the rest of the world could be destroyed. He took another swig of the burning liquid and grimaced, lips pulling away from yellowing teeth. For as intoxicated as he was, a peculiar amount of physical control remained—he was certain of his body, if not his emotions, his mind. So when the voice rose, slow and deep over the tide, he bristled visibly. The Hunter, the dark hybrid who so challenged his right to rule, approached. Ezekiel turned to face him, naked in the moonlight, and showed his teeth in a mask somewhere between a smile and a snarl. “Come, Lord of Thistles, come and greet me as you should!” He called into the night, and laughed. It was a raven’s voice, a hysterical and raw sound that did not belong to him. The smoking had aided in turning his voice raw over the years, but it was doubled now by the amount he had consumed tonight. He laughed because this false royalty was all they were; savages and primitive men donning crowns and titles when they were nothing. @import url(http://bloodandfire.sleepyglow.net/publ ... s/zeke.css); </style> [/html] - Sirius Revlis - 01-02-2012 [html] wordcount: +605
The cry of the man echoed after his own, in a voice tantalisingly familiar. Sirius knew the sound of a man shedding his inhibitions – He had done so himself, often enough in his youth. However, a strange shiver ran up and down his spine, almost like anticipation.
Sirius Revlis Hail the Conqueror Worm .gsiri-01 {width:500px;margin:0px auto;text-align:justify;line-height:15px;font-family:Georgia, Helvetica, serifs;font-size:12px;letter-spacing:.75px;word-spacing:1px;} .gsiri-01 .ooc {text-align:left;font-style:italic;font-size:11px;border-bottom:1px dotted;padding-bottom:5px;letter-spacing:.90px;} .gsiri-01 p {text-indent:40px;padding:0px 0px 5px 0px;} .gsiri-01 b {font-size:13px;letter-spacing:1px;} .gsiri-01 .name {text-align:center;font-family: 'Permanent Marker', cursive;font-size:50px;line-height:20px;} .gsiri-01 .quote {text-align:center;font-size:10px;padding-top:10px;letter-spacing:10px;text-transform:uppercase;}</style>[/html] - Ezekiel de le Poer - 01-02-2012 [html] The savage in man is never
quite eradicated Word Count » 592
Metal shifted and turned in the firelight, gold and bronze thrown over a form cut from hard earth and deep forests. Old stories had taught him of beasts within, of cannibal ghosts and mad-eyed things that came with little warning. His own demon was no different, but the deer had not risen even as Ezekiel walked on the grave of the dead man. Perhaps the portrait had formed a ward. Perhaps he was too drunk to notice. Perhaps he had imagined the whole thing since the beginning, as he often suspected. Amber eyes gazed over the lanky hybrid and his horse. Of the two, she was prettier; but Ezekiel was not a man who understood beauty and likened it to things peculiar. A white horse was odd to him. Sirius was not so unfamiliar compared to such a thing…though he was a specimen of his own, a true contender against his own rule. Oh if they had been within the same clan, what wonder might have that made? Sirius was too arrogant to bow and Ezekiel too ferocious to submit; they would have destroyed each other. Yet he watched with the same methodical precision of a fighter, seeing the strength in that lean form, knowing far too well that even a skinny thing like the Thistle King would be a contender in combat. Like a deer, he thought, recalling the stubby tail, and almost laughed again. Instead he swallowed more of the clear liquid and smiled savagely, teeth dripping with the poisoned water. Brother. He had no brothers, only half-siblings that meant nothing and saw no worth in their lives here. Tools. All of those who followed him would be molded into the ideal flame he sought to bring to Inferni, to make a bonfire great and powerful enough to scorch the world if he so chose. Ezekiel snorted bullishly at the darker man, and shook his head. He caught the bottle well enough; his reflexes were instinctive and would have been able to contend with combat if it came. “And what do you know of devils, Sirius?” the Aquila drawled, sniffing at the bottle. He swallowed the sweet tasting thing with great thirst, but found it was not half so potent as he might have liked. One hand reached and extended the bottle back to his more civilized “brother”, eyes gleaming and glazed. “I can tell you the names of the Lords of Hell, of their Marshalls. You should learn them. I have heard tale of your witch-women,” from the mouth of their mother, no less. Eris had once lived among them, after all. The birds, too, had seen things…he did not know what was said, only that there had been deeds, and blood, and bodies of men used for ritual in ways he did not understand. “, and you play with fire, brother.” He smiled again, as if the term was amusing to him. Suddenly, above the fire, Zeke caught a stronger scent that had all but left the darkened pelt of the man across from him. It was a musk and a woman, a potent thing that spoke of breeding. Now, he did laugh—and it was mocking this time. “Oh my brother, you should be careful. Women give birth to demons.” The first wife had, long before she had been sent east of Eden. Ezekiel knew this as truth; Lilith had begat the first of the worldly things, long after an angel fell to earth and formed his kingdom without the presence of God to light the way. @import url(http://bloodandfire.sleepyglow.net/publ ... s/zeke.css); </style> [/html] - Sirius Revlis - 01-08-2012 [html] wordcount: +526
There was a madness in the other man's eyes, a glittering wildness that hinted his foe had been, at least partially, unhinged by the poison he drank. Instability was a weakness that Sirius could use, as the serpent had become master at using all poisons. His wars were waged in the mind, not in the blood, as were those of the golden eagle and his raven brethren. There was silver in his blood, coursing as strongly as the molten gold within Ezekiel's, and yet unlike that boiling sunset hue it was cold to the touch - Deathly cold.
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