07-19-2010, 10:37 PM
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it's poetry carved in flesh, this beautiful hell of ours
His flesh bore the marks of his self loathing, bleeding crimson trails that wound down his arms and torso. He was painfully lucid, excruciating aware of what he’d done and what he’d failed to do. The wolf had gotten the better of him. Samael had sought vengeance, and Samael had nearly died as a result, failing for the first time ever to get exactly what he wanted. Well, almost the first time ever. He would never get what he wanted from the woman he desired, but he contented himself with living as her pet. Even so, he’d abandoned her and he’d abandoned everything in his own misery and weakness. He didn’t deserve to live.
The moonlight shone on the darkened sea—the waves crashing against the rock strewn coast in an eternal rhythm. Dark, matted hair hung down over his face, down his shoulders, down his back to veil his features. Light caught the blade in his lap, clutched in one hand and stained darkly where it’d already met his skin. Silently, contemplation drew to a conclusion, peering around at the shadowy figures that reached for him with gnarled fingers. His own fangs were bared back in response, wickedly curving his lips upward into a cheshire grin. There was only one thing to be done now.
The silence was broken only by the voices of the damned.
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WARNING This thread contains: A masochistic character displaying themes that some viewers may not enjoy, starting with the very 1st post. Reader discretion is advised. |
His flesh bore the marks of his self loathing, bleeding crimson trails that wound down his arms and torso. He was painfully lucid, excruciating aware of what he’d done and what he’d failed to do. The wolf had gotten the better of him. Samael had sought vengeance, and Samael had nearly died as a result, failing for the first time ever to get exactly what he wanted. Well, almost the first time ever. He would never get what he wanted from the woman he desired, but he contented himself with living as her pet. Even so, he’d abandoned her and he’d abandoned everything in his own misery and weakness. He didn’t deserve to live.
The moonlight shone on the darkened sea—the waves crashing against the rock strewn coast in an eternal rhythm. Dark, matted hair hung down over his face, down his shoulders, down his back to veil his features. Light caught the blade in his lap, clutched in one hand and stained darkly where it’d already met his skin. Silently, contemplation drew to a conclusion, peering around at the shadowy figures that reached for him with gnarled fingers. His own fangs were bared back in response, wickedly curving his lips upward into a cheshire grin. There was only one thing to be done now.
The silence was broken only by the voices of the damned.