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Post by Ilyich on May 30, 2011 2:23:06 GMT -8
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In some far off reality he knew he was dreaming. But here and now placed backward in a sate that he could remember so vividly the man could find no hesitancy in his actions. No remembrance. Only fury. An anger that raged so deep within him that he was no longer in control of his actions. No far off reality existed, this was no dream. Violence that ran so deep could be nothing but a memory. A very specific memory. The first memory the last memory. The end of happiness as it existed in his world.
The beginning of his reign of carnage.
Red, the color was ever where. It frayed the edges of his vision as he paced. This place was his, and he would fill it with red. This shadowy wood once so loved as a quiet pretty place. Damage would ensue here. Blood to spill. Hatred tore across him, waves of it pounding every cell in his body. Everything ever where was assaulted. Nothing was free of that anger. How dare that bastard just take her away! How dare he! All of them, playing at God. Well here came Lucifer baby.
And he was hell sent to scour the earth for those bastards. All those puppet string boys with no more self awareness then a damn pineapple. They would all be his. Every single one of them. Bloodied and torn beneath him. Saliva coated his fangs at the very thought. Sweet iron hard revenge. Vengeance wrapped in the paper of bloodied dismissal.
Memories captured in memories echoed violently in his eyes, in his brain. That body. Silver fur tattered. Eyes wide and unseeing. Form arched in the throws of death and agony. Blood oh so much blood. His eyes wouldn't focus on her, the frames of thought shifting and flinching away from the scrutiny of her body. Mind's eye lashing away from that particular state Paradox refocused on the ghostly more current memory he found himself stalking through.
Death was coming for them. All of them. Let him find them. Let him trick them into his fangs. A vile smile pulled across virgin lips. His sanity had always been a weak link and now it vanished. Hatefulness's tide broke the fragile strand. There was nothing left inside except for that tide, that rising black tide. It engulfed everything and left nothing behind.
Shadows loomed black and sharp against the already darkening forest. Dusk held sway and through it stalked a monster. Winter blue eyes held nothing but dank promises, and the black mask encasing them gave sway to nothing else. The night was his to do as he wished and oh he had plans for it.
In some distant trivial part of his mind he knew he was dreaming, or better yet remembering but such things didn't matter in the current time and place. His steps were even his stalk perfected and his tongue rasped against the roof of his mouth. Counting slowly every heart beet that was left in the sand-clock of withered souls.
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Post by ✞ Taboo ✞ on May 30, 2011 7:47:51 GMT -8
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[/div] So I made a list of how you're going to pay ` I LOCKED YOU OUT LEFT YOU NAKED IN THE FRONT YARD BURNED ALL OF YOUR CLOTHES HAVING NOTHING CAN BE REALLY HARD NOW I'M ON THE RUN I'LL DO IT ALL - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - again [/td][/tr] [tr][td][atrb=width,240]
Five months had past- five months since Devoid's death and he wasn't sure if he felt remorse yet; or still carnal rage. She had been taken from him in heart- as well as life; first by that nuisance Paradox and then by his own cunning. She had belonged with him and yet she was forced to be with a weakling- someone who couldn't give him as much as Hammond, himself, could. The thought was infuriating. Infuriating to the point of- yes, maybe, he would go back in time and do it all over again.
Hammond's heart hurt- just a twinge, but it was far more so that it had in the past few months. He had planned it so perfectly- there was no way it could be traced back to him. Besides- he was there when it happened; baffled, he had tried to save her before they attacked, but he just wasn't strong enough to hold off three rogues. The rogues being a small wandering pack he had stumbled across- they were needing a place to stay and some food, in return for his gratitude- they gladly accepted the task of ripping Devoid from beneath Paradox's claws. If Hammond could not have her- Para surely couldn't. It was amazing what a warm bed and a full stomach could get you.
In the present, Hammond could be found sitting on the bank of a river- it was a gorgeous day. A soft breeze was blowing to the East, across the river- a few fish breaking the surface of the glass-like trail- the bugs were rampant. One of the things he hated about Summer- the bugs, they were everywhere- the worse had to be fleas and ticks. Mosquitoes were just annoying and were few comparatively.
A rock jutted from the middle of the river, grasping at the sky; moss and algae clung to the dark brown sculpture like a child clinging to it's mother's teat. It looked odd swelling up out of quiet waters, a deep contrast to the vibrant rainbow beneath the waves near the shores. Colored pebbles lined the riverbed- he always wondered how they got there, surely not by their own will- maybe someone came through and made them all appear by magic.
On top of the rock, there sat a creature- rested up on it's hind quarters, transparent in view. The same spectral that had haunted him since it's death. Devoid sat, staring at him with her turtle green eyes- accusing. Surely, she couldn't know it was he that had planned her downfall- stolen her from this world and sent her to the spectral planes. He had tried to help her after all- at least he made it look that way.
The wolves had come from the woods- one of them engaging Hammond in a battle to the death- the scars along his shoulder twinged in anticipation, he knew exactly where this was going. He had requested the three appear out of nowhere- unplanned on a random evening, so even he would be surprised. All the more convincing. no? His deep orange eyes had been so full of a sick lust for Devoid- begging her to remove herself from the weaklings hold, he wasn't sure if she was scared to or not- he made himself believe she was; and then all of a sudden there was the hurt. He almost began to think the rogues had forgotten about their little agreement.
In the end- it had been a bloodbath, Devoid had been slaughtered before Hammond and Paradox's eyes; Hammond injured (upon request), one of the rogues lay at his feet dead. It wasn't in the agreement, but as a last minute decision he had decided once again it would be more beneficial in the end- leading Para away from his trail. He had not tried to comfort the other male, as he himself mourned the loss of the woman he wanted.
The brute's skin quivered- a shiver running up his spine as the image on the rock disappeared. He always shoved her accusing eyes off- convincing himself her death was for the better. Now he was done with Para- he hoped the low-life was still mourning in some hole somewhere. They were both two separate people and Hammond intended on keeping it that way.
Male-wolf stretched- from paws dipping themselves beneath the crystal surface, the water was cool...refreshing. Something he needed dearly, he needed to wipe the past events from his mind- how he was going to do that, he wasn't so sure. He slept at night- hearing her cries as her skin was torn; her throat ripped open- a river of crimson straining her beautiful fur. Para deserved it- Devoid hadn't, but it was the only way Hammond saw anything working out.
Hammond was on the road to recovery- like a drug addict; but little things always made him take a step back and remember. He would do it all over again just to see the look on Para's face- the utter terror on Devoid's, she knew her fate- she should have known her fate when she told him she couldn't leave Paradox. He had blamed the other male for her death- accusing him with dripping fangs, he had felt his emotions. The air was thick with lust, anger, sorrow. They all loved the smell of blood- the fact it was Devoid's made things all the more better in a way. It was full of her scent, one thing he would never forget now. He could smell it on the wind sometimes- a faint perfume, like she was calling to him.
Her random appearances from the spirit world- were rare, and she never spoke when she showed up. It was eerie- Hammond had never conversed with the dead, in fact he didn't think they could speak at all. What was their point in hanging around? Those eyes could say it all- and she had said it enough times, but he wouldn't believe it. He knew she hadn't been in love with Paradox, but was taken into his world anyway, at least that was what he convinced himself of.
Pushing the thoughts aside- orange eyes stared over into his reflection, he looked rough, like he hadn't slept in months. He needed to eat- and a fish sounded great about now. The brown male stood up- leaning farther over into the water, now to see if one would come close enough for him to snatch up. These were toothed garr and bass, none of them were really smart.
[/td] [td][atrb=width,140] words ,1,090 words tagged ,Devoid&Paradox notes ,I hope I captured him ok- I wasn't sure of how she died, so I sort of planned it out in this post? Tell me if I need to change anything! Template: (c) CAUTION 2.0Image: (c) Me Lyrics: (c) Theory Of A Deadman Alt Image: (c) Me [/td] [/tr] [/table] [/center] |
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Post by Glaciers are Cold on May 31, 2011 19:16:58 GMT -8
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• • Devoid ! • • dear you're a demon, ten sizes to small, but when you've got me pinned to a wall, cross to my throat and i can't help but crash into love
It is a feeling of gentle bliss, when the heavens cradle your soft skin, and embrace the matted fur sloshed with blood. When they lay you upon their feathery cot, and sing you their sweet lullabies, and there's no pain no more, only hope: hope for what is, but not what wasn't nor what never will be. It is not that they do not force you to accept what has happened. They don't tell you what isn't, they just caress your rough fur smooth and smile. But it is not the same. You are no longer among the living, and the reason is not so pleasant.
All the same, Devoid feels entitled to this cherishment. She has suffered much. Sure she has beauty, and a dozen love-mangled males trailing after her, kissing her shadows. Or at least, she had. But that is the past. Now is the present. And now she does not know where she is any longer. She is like a nomad, a wolf of many homes, always traveling, a constant sojourner, but never remaining. She is, though it pains her to admit it, a ghost. A ghost belonging to nowhere and to no one. Her long lost lovers are no more, they are beyond her. Or. So she had believed.
Devoid is a silvery butterfly of a she-wolf. She has delicate gossamer fur that curls in braids all across her small body. Angelical white paints her flanks, and sun-green eyes enhance her beauty. Her fur is lustrous like a pearl's, its sheen truly phenomenal. Wooed by many and envious by all. Which unfortunately had led to her downfall. And now, she has returned: a glittering ghost, silver ringing the fringes of her pure slate-white coat, her eyes of lime particularly sparkling. One this is changed. Dark crimson stains her sides, wicked gashes prominent. There, the skin peels off, fur entangling in blood, and occasionally is shed. Much like a pitiful sheep being shorn in hasty clumps.
Devoid floats through fluffy clouds of ivory and peach, her paws gracefully carving arcs in the sky as she gallops. Her curve is smooth as she descends upon the mortal world, but as she shatters the barrier protecting the heavens from the tainted earth, she sighs. She knows she will regret returning, and already she does. The world has not changed, but she has. It is still the same desolate and cruel and unforgiving world of her past. But she is no longer touched by its cruelty and its misgivings. She is something else now: a divine being above such material matters. She sighs.
Her heart, however, is a different matter. It tugs at her, yanking her back to the world of her lovers. Where everyone she cared for and hated is. Where she was slaughtered for who she cared. Where her life was sacrificed for the vengeance of another to another. She was trapped in some great challenge of tug-of-war and apparently still is. The ropes binding her heart down pull ever fiercely. Like a graceful dove she alights upon the earthen realms. And like a magnet, she remains. Like a prison with no key but hope in sight, she is again barred in the asylum of her nightmares.
Devoid lies crumpled on the ground, silvery moon-touched fur glistening. She rises to her paws and sees water. Water, the start of the circle of life. It is also the end of the circle of life. If indeed there is a beginning and a finish to a circle. Just as it breathes life into a newling, it also douses the flames of passion until they are no more, just a shell of what once was. All the same, she crawls to the little pool of water, none shocked when she finds herself swimming through the short cropped grass of the breath-taking—and literally so—scope of land. Her paws slice through the earth as easily as a fish cutting smooth strokes through water. But this is expected.
The long-dead she-wolf clambers atop a rock, careful to pivot each paw directly over the smooth, algae-riddled surface. She wishes to create the illusion of a mortal tie, that she is not some spirit wandering through objects. She rests on top, not realizing she is hovering a few, tell-tale inches above it. She tucks her escaping thread-like tail across her right flank and glances up. She freezes. Her lime-lemon eyes catch fiery orange ones, and very familiar tongues of crimson flame at that. Accompanying those haunting eyes is a thick, callused body sheathed in grimy brown. Her own gray silk coat shudders as the breeze plays through. Hammond. No. It cannot be.
Devoid's lips are pushed back in a twisted snarl that disfigures her otherwise pretty looks. "Hammond!" she growls, rising. Her muscles quiver, her hips most prominently so. She neatly leaps off and slinks closer, studying his leaner and sturdier frame. So he still lives. "Where is Paradox?" She refuses to say much more than a cursory greeting and a demand to see her truest lover. But strangely, he does not respond, not yet. Perhaps he can't? She now feels an overwhelming mingling of both confusion and depression. How quickly one forgets the past. She then turns away. She knows that while Hammond may not possess the powers to commune with the dead, Paradox does. Paradox, her true lover, is the only one…
Words 900 && Tags Paradox and Ham && Ooc Ham reference to TKAM! (kidding sort of) |
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Post by Ilyich on Jun 2, 2011 15:33:13 GMT -8
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Anger.Fury.Anger.Fury.It was a constant cycle. His mind focused on little to nothing else. He didn't care about anything else. Vengeance was in his blood and it would be his. Its vile song screamed to him, and the wickedness of it sang a tune of pure violence into his spirit. Paradox lifted his head from the assumed mourning position hung by his chest. Where was she? She had been so close for the last months, using his gift to draw herself around him. That downy touch had fled from him, presumably haunting some other wicked soul in some other drawn and broken realm.
Whatever sanity was left in him whispered in conflict with the rest, the blackness. It watched through blood shot eyes as he moved, ghoul like through the wood. Through the trees. Gossamer touches meant little as he moved, the dead seeking solace in something that noticed them. Sanity wanted to reach out and touch them, caress them to make sure they remained pinned to his spirit. Insanity brushed them away like flies. He didn't need them, didn't want them. The single dead bastard he wanted wasn't anywhere to be found. She had run off, and his sanity fled from the fury woken in the blackened mind.
All of them had to die. All of them. Die. Die. Die. Dead.
Teeth snapping together the man became aware of something. A gossamer strand that connected her to him. A thing he had seen and wondered over, a communicative link. Claws made of red lust locked into it, clutching at the ghostly apparition of soul with jaded selfishness. His, it was his. He would take what was his. paradox twisted his body unease and bitterness forcing bile up his throat. Where was his lover? His guardian? That's right, he stole her. Took her away in his plotting. Hammond. Die. Die. Die. Oh he thought he was so clever, the clever bastard. Thought he was so clever.
Hammond underestimated insanity. Mourning. Hatred. The ginger eyes boy hadn't thought to add in the troubles of obsession. Not only that but his cleverness had ended abruptly. Torture is an amazing thing, and it always ended the same. Paradox was a violent boy, always on the bottom. Suddenly placed in a dominant situation... well he couldn't have been expected to hold back could he? Two carcasses rotted half digested somewhere to his back. Everything was to his back. Except for her, Devoid. And except for her chief murderer.
No Hammond had never touched her, but he had wanted her as badly as Paradox had. He had licked at her chin in whining denial. Hammond had destroyed her out of the same monstrous greed that lashed his rival on now. Spurred by fury. Spurred by love and pain. Spurred by the need to beat the brute to his knees. Both of them, fighting each other till the day they died. Or killed one another. It would never end.
But it would, oh it would!
And it would end tonight. The voice told him so, her sharp authoritative voice that sent shivers down his spine. Such beauty, even in death. Even with their dreams silenced he could find beauty in her ghostly figure, its gossamer edges drifting in a haze. But love could only detracts hate for so long, and as his yes settled on the back of the monster he froze in all aspects. It would seem in that silent moment that even his heart stopped. Over. Soon it would be over. All over.
Icy blue eyes widened, pupils dilating in a drug induced frenzy. Adrenaline shot through him, the needle burred deep in his mangled heart. Jaws parted, spit bubbling between parting fangs. he was a viper, hidden away in the bracken. Waiting. He had been waiting for so long. So very long. The man's eyes almost rolled with agitation. Over. Either this fight killed them both or just one, but either way it would all end.
In a far of reality hidden under the upturned snow caked earth of neverlife cemetery a brown-black body twitched. It was over, the mind whispered annoyed by the pretense. It was over.
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Post by ✞ Taboo ✞ on Jun 7, 2011 18:42:21 GMT -8
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[/div] So I made a list of how you're going to pay ` I LOCKED YOU OUT LEFT YOU NAKED IN THE FRONT YARD BURNED ALL OF YOUR CLOTHES HAVING NOTHING CAN BE REALLY HARD NOW I'M ON THE RUN I'LL DO IT ALL - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - again [/td][/tr] [tr][td][atrb=width,240]
Why was she lingering around? The illusion looked almost real- Devoid sitting atop that; with the river rushing soundlessly around her. What was her deal? Was she here to try to tell him that she loved him? That she had messed up going with Paradox? Probably not. 'But guess what Baby, you did...' The thought cackled in his mind.
He was sadistic- wanting to bring all that pain back to her. He would in the end, didn't all wolves go to the same place when they died? Yes, when he is old and crippled and the last breathe is squeezed from his lungs- he will bring all that pain back upon her- and her lover boy. Devoid was meant to be his...'Meant to be mine, you bitch!' Hammond growled, claws pushing a shiny pebble into the waters nearby, a soft 'plop' echoing in his ear drums. The air felt stale- he couldn't smell anything; only her perfume- just her perfume. He was going crazy, five months after the fact. How did air feel stale?
A deep breathe of air caught in his lungs as he hoisted himself to his feet. His movements were slow and exaggerated, hunger tore at his stomach. He needed something to eat and soon- before his stomach acid chewed through what meat he had. He wanted to tear into a fish's cold flesh like he wanted to tear through Paradox's skull, expose him for everything he was; how he used Devoid- tricked her into believing she was the one for him!
Another growl- he needed to get a hold of himself. 'Food, just think about food...' His concentration centered on the toothed gar swimming downshore; they were incredibly fast, and tirelesssly idiotic. Hammond say upon his haunches- as close to the water as he could get, gums smacking. His dinner was just a bite away- how he would relish it, cherish the feel of it's slimy intestines trailing down the inside of his throat. He would get a sadistic high from it all- the smell, the adrenaline, the raw savageness of it all. This was who he was- this was what he was; and he was damned if he was going to change.
[/td] [td][atrb=width,140] words ,753 words tagged ,Devoid&Paradox notes ,300 words short, I am so sorry. Template: (c) CAUTION 2.0Image: (c) Me Lyrics: (c) Theory Of A Deadman Alt Image: (c) Me [/td] [/tr] [/table] [/center] |
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