That's... all I've got at the moment.
Annasiel
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Austere Estrangement
STATUS: Sometimes it feels like something that I don't believe in happening next week for the reason of my hope that it resolves itself. 4 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 4 yrs ago
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Poetic Ghost
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4 yrs ago
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Sometimes it feels like something that I don't believe in happening next week for the reason of my hope that it resolves itself.
5 yrs ago
Just Married
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5 yrs ago
Existence, not exist. I blame the penny.
5 yrs ago
I existence once more to rain terror on the masses. Oh, look, a penny!
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Under Construction.
Most Recent Posts
The Terratore, too, if you want to go Latin/Spanish like Dolorosa.
The Rupturer, The Fracture...
The Landrift, The Grounder, The Crumbler, The Polisher...
My ancestor began aiding the rebellion after someone she cared for (in an undefined capacity) was harmed somehow by the government. It would behoove me if someone else's ancestor was said individual, but it isn't necessary.
I guess I will be claiming The Vampiric.
I assume we should collaborate on working out interrelations between ancestors, considering the importance of that.
==>ENTER THE MYSTERIOUS COLD AND SILENT HIVE
The hive was cold and full of silence.
A myriad of shelves covered the plain stone walls, holding everything from well-worn books to skulls and statuettes to unmarked, black-bound journals. Cobwebs and dust covered much of the room in a thick, imposing layer, though they may as well have been a testament to the hiveowner's hygiene than an aesthetic choice. Candles overhead illumined the place in a flickering, shifting light, casting dancing, gleeful shadows every place their brightness failed to touch. A young troll lay in the corner. One might assume she was sleeping, if there was not a perfectly good recuperacoon a mere three feet away. But then again, it is awfully hard to read yourself to sleep while suspended in a sea of goo.
"Mnzzf..." our sleeping subject mumbled incoherently, her voice muffled by the ragged paperback laying open on her face. "A Day for Death" the title read in a thorny print, overlayed above an image of three shadowy silhouettes in a desert. "Sun Striders - Book Five" said the smaller text below. Many would argue it was the best novel in the series, with twice as many plot twists, violent betrayals, and grisly, just murders of the damned. But we don't have enough time to go into the social dynamics between the many well-developed characters, or to explain the in-depth symbolism behind every poetically written page. Not with the ominous gong about to sound.
"GONG!" the ebony computer nearby gonged ominously. "GONG! GONG! GONG!"
"For the love of pain and misery, shut the fuck up!" the troll shouted, tossing the book that was once on her face in the laptop's general direction. It missed, thunking a nearby snakebeast on its head. The lusus hissed, coiling into a ball of anger. Nobody step on Snakedad. Nobody. Ignoring her incredibly peeved guardian, the girl leaped to her feet, running over to the noisy Gothictop as quickly as possible. Taking a moment to slip dramatically on one of the torn papers strewn about, the troll slammed her hand onto the keys, silencing the godawful noise. Who was messaging her at this time of night? Some asswipes had no appreciation for the sleep schedules of others.
Why did that poor excuse for an anything have to insist on bothering her every time she didn't want to be bothered? It... "GONG! GONG! GONG!" fucking hell, not again.
Such a self-righteous, egregiously offensive, smooth-talking asshole. It didn't help that the conversation only succeeded in deepening the hollow ache of loneliness she put up with every day. She glanced for a moment at a small slip of paper on her desk, a torn fragment with a scribbled tag. Well... she was already awake. Intense annoyance and high volume notification alerts tended to do that to a person. It might be a good time to take a chance. A good time to do something idiotic and reckless for once. Bracing herself, she opened a new chat window on her Gothictop, and began to type.
This was it. Her chance. She finally had a chance, finally had an in, finally had a reason to act on how she felt. All thoughts of her conversation with Fortid were forgotten, along with the all-important game. That shit didn't matter, it was all pointless, meaningless, arbitrary in the shadow of this massive bundle of emotion. She had to come up with something to say, had to write something down. A long, detailed art session might have begun if the still-agitated Snakedad didn't choose that time to strike.
"GET OFF ME YOU FUCKING DEMON OF THE INFERNAL ABYSS!" the girl cried as the giant lusus fwomped painfully on top of her. She grabbed it's open fangs, wresting them away from her neck with all her strength. Snakedad was furious, Snakedad was proud. Nobody step on Snakedad unless they want to suffer his scaly wrath. As for messaging this "viciousEmpress"... that could come after the threat of imminent death at the teeth of her guardian passed.
The hive was cold and full of silence.
A myriad of shelves covered the plain stone walls, holding everything from well-worn books to skulls and statuettes to unmarked, black-bound journals. Cobwebs and dust covered much of the room in a thick, imposing layer, though they may as well have been a testament to the hiveowner's hygiene than an aesthetic choice. Candles overhead illumined the place in a flickering, shifting light, casting dancing, gleeful shadows every place their brightness failed to touch. A young troll lay in the corner. One might assume she was sleeping, if there was not a perfectly good recuperacoon a mere three feet away. But then again, it is awfully hard to read yourself to sleep while suspended in a sea of goo.
"Mnzzf..." our sleeping subject mumbled incoherently, her voice muffled by the ragged paperback laying open on her face. "A Day for Death" the title read in a thorny print, overlayed above an image of three shadowy silhouettes in a desert. "Sun Striders - Book Five" said the smaller text below. Many would argue it was the best novel in the series, with twice as many plot twists, violent betrayals, and grisly, just murders of the damned. But we don't have enough time to go into the social dynamics between the many well-developed characters, or to explain the in-depth symbolism behind every poetically written page. Not with the ominous gong about to sound.
"GONG!" the ebony computer nearby gonged ominously. "GONG! GONG! GONG!"
"For the love of pain and misery, shut the fuck up!" the troll shouted, tossing the book that was once on her face in the laptop's general direction. It missed, thunking a nearby snakebeast on its head. The lusus hissed, coiling into a ball of anger. Nobody step on Snakedad. Nobody. Ignoring her incredibly peeved guardian, the girl leaped to her feet, running over to the noisy Gothictop as quickly as possible. Taking a moment to slip dramatically on one of the torn papers strewn about, the troll slammed her hand onto the keys, silencing the godawful noise. Who was messaging her at this time of night? Some asswipes had no appreciation for the sleep schedules of others.
Why did that poor excuse for an anything have to insist on bothering her every time she didn't want to be bothered? It... "GONG! GONG! GONG!" fucking hell, not again.
Such a self-righteous, egregiously offensive, smooth-talking asshole. It didn't help that the conversation only succeeded in deepening the hollow ache of loneliness she put up with every day. She glanced for a moment at a small slip of paper on her desk, a torn fragment with a scribbled tag. Well... she was already awake. Intense annoyance and high volume notification alerts tended to do that to a person. It might be a good time to take a chance. A good time to do something idiotic and reckless for once. Bracing herself, she opened a new chat window on her Gothictop, and began to type.
This was it. Her chance. She finally had a chance, finally had an in, finally had a reason to act on how she felt. All thoughts of her conversation with Fortid were forgotten, along with the all-important game. That shit didn't matter, it was all pointless, meaningless, arbitrary in the shadow of this massive bundle of emotion. She had to come up with something to say, had to write something down. A long, detailed art session might have begun if the still-agitated Snakedad didn't choose that time to strike.
"GET OFF ME YOU FUCKING DEMON OF THE INFERNAL ABYSS!" the girl cried as the giant lusus fwomped painfully on top of her. She grabbed it's open fangs, wresting them away from her neck with all her strength. Snakedad was furious, Snakedad was proud. Nobody step on Snakedad unless they want to suffer his scaly wrath. As for messaging this "viciousEmpress"... that could come after the threat of imminent death at the teeth of her guardian passed.
The Vingers oV Death
A “Sun Striders” VangVic by Hecare Eritas
Chapter 1
VangVall Bloodire Vas unamused. The Alternian diplomat she had been chasing Vor the last tVo days had suddenly Vanished, as iV he Vas turned into smoke. She knelt on the rocky outcrop in the unVaVering Alternian desert sun, Vatching the caVe Vhere the Vleeing troll had last took shelter. He Vent in just a VeV hours ago. Thinking she had him trapped, Bloodire had Valked in aVter him, but he Vas noVhere to be Vound in the tiny creVice. And so she Vaited. Vaited like the sun Vaits on the moon to Vlee its Vrath, Vaited like a predator stalks its helpless prey.
The Vaiting made her remember an earlier time.
A time Vhen all oV this made sense. But that liVe Vas years past, and this Vas the present. No time to reminisce, no time Vor lost memories. Only time to hunt the sorry Vucks Vho hurt her loVe. They Vould pay, one by one, pay at the mercy oV her Vangs oV death. And as they looked into her Vormless eyes, asking Vhy she murdered them, she Vould reply: Vor reVenge, Vor passion, and Vor peace in the Vorld. Yes, that Vas the noble thing to do and the most poVerVul lesson to teach. Karma exists, and it Vill come knocking at your door in the shape oV a six Voot tall gloVing monster.
Author’s notes: This Vas based on the eVents precluded in Volume 2, chapter 5, paragraV Vour oV the “Sun Striders” series. I took artistic liberty in Bloodire’s motiVes, as Ve don’t really knoV Vhy she hunted oVVicials. I mean, any person Vho isn’t an idiot can put tVo and tVo together. I hope to put in another Vriting soon.
A “Sun Striders” VangVic by Hecare Eritas
Chapter 1
VangVall Bloodire Vas unamused. The Alternian diplomat she had been chasing Vor the last tVo days had suddenly Vanished, as iV he Vas turned into smoke. She knelt on the rocky outcrop in the unVaVering Alternian desert sun, Vatching the caVe Vhere the Vleeing troll had last took shelter. He Vent in just a VeV hours ago. Thinking she had him trapped, Bloodire had Valked in aVter him, but he Vas noVhere to be Vound in the tiny creVice. And so she Vaited. Vaited like the sun Vaits on the moon to Vlee its Vrath, Vaited like a predator stalks its helpless prey.
The Vaiting made her remember an earlier time.
A time Vhen all oV this made sense. But that liVe Vas years past, and this Vas the present. No time to reminisce, no time Vor lost memories. Only time to hunt the sorry Vucks Vho hurt her loVe. They Vould pay, one by one, pay at the mercy oV her Vangs oV death. And as they looked into her Vormless eyes, asking Vhy she murdered them, she Vould reply: Vor reVenge, Vor passion, and Vor peace in the Vorld. Yes, that Vas the noble thing to do and the most poVerVul lesson to teach. Karma exists, and it Vill come knocking at your door in the shape oV a six Voot tall gloVing monster.
Author’s notes: This Vas based on the eVents precluded in Volume 2, chapter 5, paragraV Vour oV the “Sun Striders” series. I took artistic liberty in Bloodire’s motiVes, as Ve don’t really knoV Vhy she hunted oVVicials. I mean, any person Vho isn’t an idiot can put tVo and tVo together. I hope to put in another Vriting soon.
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