11-18-2007, 03:51 AM
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Her thin neck moved in a slight and fluid way, and she bared her teeth at him in an angry, animal snarl. Black lips, yellowing, aging teeth, and mad eyes that knew God was very real, and that he was a cold hearted bastard with a fondness for pulling the wings off of flies stared at him with a cold and vicious hatred. For a moment his face had been a terrible thing to behold, a strange mix of Salvaged Eternity and Hearse, things of death, and of pain that a woman should not have known. Her vision cleared, as unreliable of a thing as it was, and she drew back the snarl, choking it down, forcing it down into her dark heart, and looked away. Thin hands slid bonelessly from her hair, falling to her sides in a careless way, as she stared around. It was cold and snow was turning the streaks of black on her to chalky white, making her body more and more of a lie. White was the color of salvation, and she was the Devil's whore.
Her blood was turning the ground around her bright red, a color she found strangely hypnotic as she looked around, unwilling for the moment to meet his eyes, unwilling to do as he wanted. A thought, some strange knowledge of the blood hit her, and another laugh, sharp and wholly cruel in the darkness passed her lips. A mad grin, the grin of a Jester who would soon serve their King syntax error'd glass escaped her. Oh, things would be getting better soon. Peace drove her mad. Soon, the shape of God's most wicked thing would come. A wanton woman. The smile stayed on her face then, and she slowly pushed herself to stand. Obeying him.
Ahren was a handsome thing. A Prince who would break a million hearts, who loved a Gypsy of the sea. It was a strange thing, what passed between the pair. Something that filled her with envy. They were both alive, young, and beautiful. She could smell sickness on her own breath. It might have just been paranoia, she had the luck of a sinner. It seemed at times Misery would outlive them all. The show wasn't over yet, and she knew it. They were sisters, weren't they? Ahren could never really be rid of his misery, no matter how much he wanted to. She shook her rangy body, and grinned over at him, in a secret, sick way.
"She's coming."
How she knew Matinee was on a boat that would soon land on the shores of Bleeding Souls, an accidental landing, a chance of fate, was a mystery. Just how Misery was so damn certain that an unlucky, fated wind would blow Matinee off the course she had wrongly believed would take her to the lands where she had met Ahren was illogical. But sometimes God whispered things that were truths. An enigmatic and wholly maddening smile stayed on her face. This would be good. Her wounds were forgotten as she had something else to lose herself in. In Ahren's tragedy and the song that his heart would soon sing. Misery hoped it was a requiem.
Her blood was turning the ground around her bright red, a color she found strangely hypnotic as she looked around, unwilling for the moment to meet his eyes, unwilling to do as he wanted. A thought, some strange knowledge of the blood hit her, and another laugh, sharp and wholly cruel in the darkness passed her lips. A mad grin, the grin of a Jester who would soon serve their King syntax error'd glass escaped her. Oh, things would be getting better soon. Peace drove her mad. Soon, the shape of God's most wicked thing would come. A wanton woman. The smile stayed on her face then, and she slowly pushed herself to stand. Obeying him.
Ahren was a handsome thing. A Prince who would break a million hearts, who loved a Gypsy of the sea. It was a strange thing, what passed between the pair. Something that filled her with envy. They were both alive, young, and beautiful. She could smell sickness on her own breath. It might have just been paranoia, she had the luck of a sinner. It seemed at times Misery would outlive them all. The show wasn't over yet, and she knew it. They were sisters, weren't they? Ahren could never really be rid of his misery, no matter how much he wanted to. She shook her rangy body, and grinned over at him, in a secret, sick way.
"She's coming."
How she knew Matinee was on a boat that would soon land on the shores of Bleeding Souls, an accidental landing, a chance of fate, was a mystery. Just how Misery was so damn certain that an unlucky, fated wind would blow Matinee off the course she had wrongly believed would take her to the lands where she had met Ahren was illogical. But sometimes God whispered things that were truths. An enigmatic and wholly maddening smile stayed on her face. This would be good. Her wounds were forgotten as she had something else to lose herself in. In Ahren's tragedy and the song that his heart would soon sing. Misery hoped it was a requiem.