12-16-2009, 03:04 AM
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| http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y199/l ... _table.jpg);"> 500+ Clawed hands pushed against the screaming door, forcing it to obey inch by inch. It was the same procedure every time he ventured here, but it was the point to make it hard to enter. Once inside the air immediately turned dry and crisp of age. The devilish male could taste the centuries that had passed here. He tasted death, despair and a hint of something that could only be blood. Clawed fingers slithered across the cold stone walls as he started to walk deeper into the sad attempt of a long dead murderer to create a haven. The place was idyllic, for it was dead. Death always left silence vibrating in the shadows. Halifax was nearby, yet not too close for too many curious souls to seek out the abandoned graveyard. This one time Haku left the heavy door open despite the knowledge that the precious, crisp air would filter out into the world of the living. He was not troubled though, because there was more than enough death in the end of the pitch black tunnel. Every now and then as he walked he would swipe his steel nails against the stone and create sparks until a flame was born on top of panels fed with crisp bark, dung and splinters of bones. When he finally came to the oval room, the demon expressed a sigh at his own, personal sanctum. With a piece of bark the male transferred a light flare over to the strange fireplace in the middle of the room, fed with the same nutrition for the fire as the panels. He inhaled deeply, revelling at the illusion of a body burning, a scent provided by the dry bones. Then, the male turned and watched his trophies. Tails; four of them now, placed carefully on stone shelves carved into stone walls. Colibri’s tail was still soft to touch, and the reek of blood was not that strong anymore. The room smelled of death, for death was who inhabited it. Haku let a clawed finger gently stroke the remaining bits of a leather collar that had once belonged to a male of Crimson Dreams. He was dead. Most of them were. He turned slowly to face the fire eat greedily. Smoke was whirling about close to the roof, but there was a natural exit for it in the ceiling somewhere, for the room never swallowed the smog. He drew closer to the fire – blue orbs glaring at the glittering amulet wrapped in the intense heat. The blue sapphire sparkled warmly with blue rays dancing among the licking flames, but it was still intact; just as beautiful and shimmering as the day his mother had given it to him when he had been a child. She had set him free, but the prison itself was still intact and refused to be shattered. He suspected the pitch black dagger to be just as indestructible. He had not expected his efforts to bear fruits. After all, both items had been made especially for him. |