10-27-2007, 10:24 PM
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God tasted like blood. He was the precious thing creeping in the darkness, and hand sliding up her thigh. Her breath was stopped short by a hand, as black as pitch that would around her throat, and in the darkness there was only pain, and it was so wretchedly beautiful. God's voice was a harsh and ragged whisper, and the air between them carried the malignantly sweet scent of cancer. It was horrible and sweet, so much like death and so much like passion. God was there and gone in the flash of an eye, motion ending abruptly with a streak of blood and pain.
God was dead. God had first come in the form of Tak, he who walked in the darkness and blessed all those who bore his shade proudly. With age, and the looming presence of her seventh birthday, she had lost his shade. Black had faded, ebbed into a white that was pristine and beautiful. She hated it. Every inch of fur, every gleaming spot of holy white. She missed the darkness and comfort of her inky fur. Then God had come in the form of a King. A divine being set to rule by Tak's hand. The Crimson King, he who had set loose the Pale Prophet unto the world. Tak had shown her great favor then, and for forty-three days, there had been serenity. A disturbingly quiet and beautiful time when her soul had been at least. Oh love, sweet rapturous devil, destroyer of man and woman, it had taken her. Sweeping and laughing on a highway to hell. Sweet beauty and temptation, he had been her world.
Gods fell. He had fallen, and the Prince, oh, such hope she had, his Kingdom had fallen too. Across the world, a Gypsy, a Prince, a Prophet, a Jester, and a Lady of Gold had went. Bastards had come from the Prince and the Gypsy had borne bastards, the Lady in Gold had left, and the Jester had watched. With silent mad eyes in shades of gold and green, she had watched. She had faded. Fallen from the darkness into the wretched and burning light. Misery had been happy in the darkness. Where the wrongs she had done had seemed less so, and her sins were the norm. The darkness held no shame. It was the beauty of the damnable light that made her want to weep for her soul. Darkness hid its flaws.
God mourned. In her heart she could feel the heavy sadness of her deity, and she knew what would have to be done. Madness gave a strong and heavy sense of purpose to all of tis devotees. Even the unwilling. But she had embraced it. Misery had known from the time Sukan's hand, heavy and full of a terrible and breaking love had touched her that she would be mad. It was a trademark now, madness. Just as the cane she used to walk was. Her mind was sharp, brilliant, and absolutely mad. Her body was wasted. The devil she had conceived with her red-eyed King had seen fit to that. Like her Kingdom, she too had fallen. The female walked with no real sense of purpose, only the desire to see home and to feel as if she belonged. A scent on the wind reached her weary body, and bright eyes, gold and green, so beautiful saw the form in the distance. Misery had written her off as gone forever. She loved the girl, in one of the few pure and innocent ways she loved anything. "Corona." She had often wished that the girl was hers. Kaena and Ahren didn't deserve the Golden Lady.
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God tasted like blood. He was the precious thing creeping in the darkness, and hand sliding up her thigh. Her breath was stopped short by a hand, as black as pitch that would around her throat, and in the darkness there was only pain, and it was so wretchedly beautiful. God's voice was a harsh and ragged whisper, and the air between them carried the malignantly sweet scent of cancer. It was horrible and sweet, so much like death and so much like passion. God was there and gone in the flash of an eye, motion ending abruptly with a streak of blood and pain.
God was dead. God had first come in the form of Tak, he who walked in the darkness and blessed all those who bore his shade proudly. With age, and the looming presence of her seventh birthday, she had lost his shade. Black had faded, ebbed into a white that was pristine and beautiful. She hated it. Every inch of fur, every gleaming spot of holy white. She missed the darkness and comfort of her inky fur. Then God had come in the form of a King. A divine being set to rule by Tak's hand. The Crimson King, he who had set loose the Pale Prophet unto the world. Tak had shown her great favor then, and for forty-three days, there had been serenity. A disturbingly quiet and beautiful time when her soul had been at least. Oh love, sweet rapturous devil, destroyer of man and woman, it had taken her. Sweeping and laughing on a highway to hell. Sweet beauty and temptation, he had been her world.
Gods fell. He had fallen, and the Prince, oh, such hope she had, his Kingdom had fallen too. Across the world, a Gypsy, a Prince, a Prophet, a Jester, and a Lady of Gold had went. Bastards had come from the Prince and the Gypsy had borne bastards, the Lady in Gold had left, and the Jester had watched. With silent mad eyes in shades of gold and green, she had watched. She had faded. Fallen from the darkness into the wretched and burning light. Misery had been happy in the darkness. Where the wrongs she had done had seemed less so, and her sins were the norm. The darkness held no shame. It was the beauty of the damnable light that made her want to weep for her soul. Darkness hid its flaws.
God mourned. In her heart she could feel the heavy sadness of her deity, and she knew what would have to be done. Madness gave a strong and heavy sense of purpose to all of tis devotees. Even the unwilling. But she had embraced it. Misery had known from the time Sukan's hand, heavy and full of a terrible and breaking love had touched her that she would be mad. It was a trademark now, madness. Just as the cane she used to walk was. Her mind was sharp, brilliant, and absolutely mad. Her body was wasted. The devil she had conceived with her red-eyed King had seen fit to that. Like her Kingdom, she too had fallen. The female walked with no real sense of purpose, only the desire to see home and to feel as if she belonged. A scent on the wind reached her weary body, and bright eyes, gold and green, so beautiful saw the form in the distance. Misery had written her off as gone forever. She loved the girl, in one of the few pure and innocent ways she loved anything. "Corona." She had often wished that the girl was hers. Kaena and Ahren didn't deserve the Golden Lady.