Wyvern Posted March 29, 2003 Report Posted March 29, 2003 OOC: Just experimenting with writing a bit, don't mind me... ;p This is to be written in a few installments, here's the first. A circular object of luminosity hangs majesticaly in the kingdom of stars above, casting it's hollow rays from the cloudless unreachable where it rests. The solitary figure standing in the secluded grove knew not the name of this object, irreproachable and flawless in it's symmetrical glory, yet hated it for it's endless beams of radiance. Those beams illuminated her face... reflected upon her crystal tears. Seating himself upon the nearest rough and solid object, the nameless figure carelessly runs the sharp metal object he holds in one hand across his wrists, numb to the pain it normally produces. In which hand did he hold the metal, and how could he distinguish between the two? Looking towards his hands, the figure notices the one closest to the bark of the tree next to him is covered in more sticky red substance than the other, and thus concludes that this is the hand that holds the metallic object. This hand was not only covered in his substance, but in her's as well... While the vague form didn't mind the stickiness or the presence of her motionless body a few feet away from him, there were a few things that had him feeling uncomfortable. He couldn't stand the red color of the matter covering his hands and cloths, and he hated the way the tears on her cheeks shined so brightly. On the other hand, he liked the way her hair was spread so chaotically across the weeds... It reminded him of freedom. Raising himself from his seat, the figure steps away from the image, passing many large objects and aimlessly wandering towards no place in particular. There were certain spots surrounding the grove where the illumination caused by the presence in the sky was blocked off by various exotic obstructions... He hated the darkness of these places, yet strangely also felt most comfortable when enveloped by them. After pacing in the dark aimlessly for an undetermined amount of time, the man begins experiencing a distinct dizziness, and watchs as the outside world morphs and twists around him. He has no choice but to embrace the visions.
Wyvern Posted April 6, 2003 Author Report Posted April 6, 2003 The mattress and bed curtains of the lavishly furnished sleeping quarters glow with an opaque whiteness in the light of the candles that burn steadily on a wall nearby, their flickering flames waving back and forth in response to even the slightest breath or movement. The entire chamber is bathed in scents of expensive perfume and sweat, and the hazy mirror in the corner of the room reflects upon a small portion of a woman's beautifull form... Her breathing can be heard, steady and confident, every exhalation beckoning to be savored. Closer listening reveals the beating of her heart, steady as well, though palpitating every time he smiles, every time he runs a soft hand across her cheek or through her hair. The two figures smile affectionatly, entranced with one another, oblivious to everything else. He kneels by the bedside where she sits, as one would before a mighty emperess, the bed curtains concealing the two of them from the outside world... secluding them to their own personal fantasies and desires. An endless dream of kisses and caresses. "... thus you won't leave me? You do realize that if you left, I'd be driven to de-" "Shhhhh..." she whispers gently, holding a quaint finger to his lips and interrupting his thought patterns by beating her beautifull eye lashes. Cupping his head in her hands, she presses it against the region of her nightgown concealing her breasts and lovingly brushes a hand through his hair as she responds: "Eternities shall pass yet we shall remain together, just like this... Emotions cannot lie. Even after shells have disintegrated to dust, love can only be elevated through the soul. I shall always love you, and would never so much as consider such a thing..." They passionately hug and kiss, and... The circular frame of pale radiance was staring at the trembling figure. A face of abject malciousness seemed to be painted over the hovering object's form, an evil sneer that occasionaly quaked, as if ready to burst into wretched laughter. The lone silhouette fumbles along the outskirts of the grove, crying to himself in misery, trying to avoid the all-seeing object's face... it's eyes. Dear God, those eyes! Red, crimson like the flames of a great inferno, wavey and horrid like some ghastly, nightmarish illusion. They pierced at his soul, sliced through his thoughts like a guillotine crafted to destroy sanity... He felt what little peace of soul he had ebbing away, he felt... ... shocked as he read the letter. Indeed, simply trying to grasp the letter's contents was a difficult task for his soul. His friend, the man with the curly hair, had turned to this?! It was impossible, absurd... A bitter sting of betrayal pierces his heart as he reads the two lines that stood out so forcefully over and over again... But then, from the moment he had started the letter, he knew it was filled with envy... remorse as well, perhaps! After all, had he not told his friend to leave the books behind, to abandone them?! Yet he never ceased in his studies, the fool! One day, he would find himself regretting those studies vehemently!!! In an obsessed rage, the man tears the letter he holds into little pieces and immediatly tosses them out of his study window... For a moment, throughout the courtyard of the enraged individual, it snows a concerned friend's sage advice...
Wyvern Posted April 13, 2003 Author Report Posted April 13, 2003 Flailing around the outskirts of the grove blindly, the outline of a man clutches his head in pain and tears his eyes away from those of the luminous object above, sobbing uncontrollably and growing increasingly unaware of his immediate surroundings. One of the figure's feet comes in contact with a blurry obstruction embedded in the soil and he tumbles, falling... "... in love" The curly haired man looks towards his feet, wiping off the droplets of pouring rain that glistened on his face and coughing abruptly at his friend's statement. Spitting at the ground and briefly shaking off his soaked cloak, the man bravely turns towards his associate's countenance only to be met by a half hazy visage... The rain was pouring down so hard that it seemed to distort his friend's face, creating a twisted image of the man he once knew... the man he thought he knew. On the other side of the veil of rain now rested a complete stranger, foreign to the ways and nature of the individual he had once been acquainted with. "She's... unbelievable." murmers the distorted stranger, raising a blurry arm to his hair and brushing the cold wetness out of it. The mirage of a man looks towards his curly haired associate as he hears him respond: "Those are strong words... you shouldn't take them lightly." The blurry man laughs coldly. "In what position are you to tell me what to do? I think that you're the one who shouldn't be taking things lightly... don't forget your social position. I can dispose of you at any time I wish... strip you of all your precious books in a blink of an eye." The soaked listener goes silent and nods as the blurry figure snarls and rubs a hand over a tattoo that gleamed vividly on his right cheek, adding: "We have another guild meeting tommorow, don't be late." "I won't..." responds the curly haired man, turning and walking away from the man with the tattooed cheek and heading towards the blurry image of a tavern. "... I promise" Clawing at the dirt and grime where he had fallen, the shadow of a man grits his teeth at the visions, fighting them with the little willpower that remains in his soul. The mysterious figure looks towards his hands, their faint red tinge now mingled with an ocean of brown and black. Several tiny eight legged creatures crawl out of the spot where his hands had fought with the dirt, swiftly moving up his arms and legs, attaching themselves to his form. But the man didn't care... ... for his friend's books. Something about them bothered him, whether it was the dusty hardback bindings or the strange images depicted on their ancient covers. Extending a finger and tracing it over a black dragon emblem that marked one of the many tomes, the man raises an eyebrow as he reads the title of the text that he touches out loud. "Necromancy and the Arts of Black Magic...?" mutters the figure, turning to his curly haired friend who sits at a nearby desk. "Is this what you've been intensely studying all this time?" The curly haired man nods calmly, taking a sip from a cup of herbal tea that rests near his hands. "I thought your guild decided that all this black magic stuff was a bunch of ludicrous suppositions?" "They did, but I disagreed..." responds the voice of the curly haired form, finishing his tea "In fact, I find it terribly fascinating." The man touching the tome shakes his head in disbelief, responding: "I hate to see you wasting your time on things like this, studying sleepless nights. As your friend, I'd like you to stop..." "Never." interrupts the man immediatly, clenching his empty tea cup tightly while concealing his rage. He knew the truth... he knew that the only one's fooling themselves were his friend and his associates in the guild. "Associates" indeed! Those careless vagabonds would slit one anothers throats without hesitation as soon as the opportunity arose. The curly haired man's friend sighs and turns from the books he had previously touched, exiting the peacefull library... lost to it's calm and peacefullness forever...
Wyvern Posted April 18, 2003 Author Report Posted April 18, 2003 Turning again, slowly... both in the figure's mind and in his movements. The swirling spirals of darkness surrounding the silhouette are once again broken by a beam of translucent light from the object above, it's crimson gaze penetrating his very soul, his heart... "... was never truly torn apart, that's my only regret. My only regret!" The curly haired man utters a mixture of insane laughter and shaking sobs, staring at his friend who had just risen from the marble tablet... A trembling form, unearthly and horrid, yet more adamant than the blurry image of his tattooed associate could have ever been. Was this then the ultimate truth behind existence...? Unfathomable! "Your heart was wronged..." continues the curly haired man, looking at his former friend in a mixture of horror and awe "... yet it knew it's wrongs too well, and should have acted upon them! It should have been punished for it's idleness, for it's foolishness... and yet now it feels nothing. Nothing at all!" The man lets out another short laugh, wiping tears from his eyes and angrily tossing a black tome he holds at the ground in front of him. "Gibberish, they said! The work of fools... were they not right?! What fool would use knowledge for so wretched a purpose?" The figure laughs again, this time hysterically, while the form of his friend stares in confusion, uncertain of it's surroundings. "A fool obsessed with revenge, like myself!" cries the curly haired man, turning to the unstable form of his former friend "And you will be revenged, my friend, I have planned everything for you. It was all for you... these books, this tablet, this unholy sanctuary... Only death remains..." The curly man sobs and opens his arms widely, approaching the unstable form of his friend in the hopes of holding him in a loving embrace, yet not recognized by the confused figure that had once been his companion. No sooner has the curly haired man laid a finger upon his former friend's body than the ghastly figure flings it's hands frantically towards the man's face. A scream rings out throughout the dark sanctuary and where eyes had once been now flowed sockets of streaming red, fountains of crimson substance that caused the figure to back away from what it had just done, the red image permanently embedded in it's mind and associated with horror. After having rested a long moment in uncertainty, the now solitary figure slowly approaches the dead form and clumsily searches through it's possesions. Finding a map with a circle traced around a forest grove, the figure heads out of the sanctuary in search of this mysterious and intriguing location, uncertain even of his own existence.
Wyvern Posted April 22, 2003 Author Report Posted April 22, 2003 The solitary figure... ... doesn't have time to cry out as her fingers smoothly caress his cheek and her knife swiftly gouges his throat, gleaming as it tears through the fabrics of his existence. Darkness.
Ayshela Posted April 22, 2003 Report Posted April 22, 2003 wow... you can feel the confusion... very cool!
Wyvern Posted April 23, 2003 Author Report Posted April 23, 2003 Tearing himself away from the red glare of the luminescent mass, the lonesome form suddenly breaks out into wild dash, making a final, desperate attempt at escaping from the darkness that continuously surrounds him. As the figure races by numerous obstructions of various shapes and sizes, he feels the presence of the object above slowly growing weaker... slowly fading... sinking to the earth as the sky above gradually begins changing hues... ... of silver and grey, the daggers each glimmering faintly on the rack where they had been secretly arranged. Searching through the numerous varieties of knives, the woman's right hand reaches towards one and carefully pulls it out, silently removing the cold steel blade from it's resting place. Swiftly concealing the dagger within the front of her evening gown and carefully placing the weapon rack back in it's hiding place within the confines of an elegent wardrobe, the woman waits patiently for the arrival of her prey. Seating herself upon the satin sheets of the large bed and crossing one bare leg sensuously over the other, she quickly casts a glance at her own reflection in a nearby mirror and forces herself to smile, secretly eager to complete her mission and get her reward... What was taking him so long? Had she not seduced him properly over the course of the last few weeks...? As if to answer her question, a door leading into the bedroom chamber of the suite suddenly creaks open and the man, her prey, nervously steps in. Faking another of her smiles with the fervor of a professional, the beautifull woman winks to the figure standing before her and beckons to him slyly with a finger... The man advances a step, then suddenly stops short and looks towards the ground, recalling the letter he had read and torn to pieces... the image he had previously seen, yet refused to acknowledge. But after a moment of hesitation, none of it mattered to him, and he was once again under her charms, advancing towards her... He didn't have time to cry out as her fingers smoothly caressed his cheek and... The figure's vision is suddenly interrupted as he realizes the ground on which he treads is now rougher, more... "... concrete law." finishes the shaded form of the guild leader, seated at the far end of a needlessly large discussion table where only two other guild representatives sit and listen. "If an exterior element of some sort threatens to impede upon his studies, eliminate it. Magical arts require the utmost concentration." The two other guild representatives nod sagely at this statement. The one seated to the guild master's left rubs the tattoo on his right cheak and turns to his leader, calmly stating: "Then it will be done... I personally would like to offer to incorporate the guild's most skillfull assasin in this process of elimination, for safety measures." The shady leader nods. "Permission granted." Unknown to the figures in the room, behind the door of the conference chamber leans the curly haired man, who overhears the conversation in a horrified stupor... The figure turns from the door in disgust and races off to act upon the information he had obtained... The clumsy form almost trips over one of the many slippery rocks on which he steps, suddenly remembering... ... the title of one of his foolish friend's books read: "The Insignificance of Death"
Wyvern Posted April 28, 2003 Author Report Posted April 28, 2003 The shadowy silhouette's feet suddenly come to a halt on the slippery surface as the book's title once again flashes before his eyes, each letter glowing dimly in a faint red light, haunting him... Clutching his forehead and shaking away the hazy vision, the vague form of a man slowly comes to terms with his physical surroundings. There were no vines, no weeds, no tree limbs reaching out for him in horrendous manners... all seemed calm, tranquil, and serene. Before him lies a vast body of wavey motion, beckoning to him with each ripple and tide, majesticaly spread underneath a distant mountain range which seemed to radiate a dim brightness. The endless unreachable above him slowly changes hues, black and grey gradually melding with brighter colors of orange and yellow... Visions... visions of his curly haired... "Friend, I must warn you of what I've discovered. As devastating and unreal as it may seem, they've decided to murder you, and they're doing it with her. With her, my friend... God, I feel terrible informing you of it, but she's deadly as poison! At times, I feel you're the only one I can trust, the only one concerned..." This was all he could read of the letter before tearing it to pieces... Visions of his friend, yes, and visions of his own past... mingled and interlocked in a blurry nightmare of imagery and emotion. Swaying in and out of sanity, attempting to come to terms with his own physical state... his numbness to pain and touch. And yet... The mattress and bed curtains of the lavishly furnished sleeping quarters glow with an opaque whiteness... ... something seemed... ...satin sheets... ... strangely out of place. Two visions, different colors... different quarters? Finally, he accepts... "...Emotions cannot lie. Even after shells have disintegrated to dust, love can only be elevated through the soul. I shall always love you, and would never so much as consider such a thing..." They passionately hug and kiss, and the man with the tattooed cheek smiles as he tastes her aroma, assured of her ongoing passion. As the two lovers submit to the will of each other's fantasies, the lonely figure standing hidden outside their bedroom window gazes in, soaking in the rain and shedding tears in the knowledge of her betrayal. Unable to bear watching the scene any longer, the man turns from his position and... and... ...had chosen not to accept it, blotted the image out of his mind... why?! Did he lack the courage...? Strangely, the form of the man had no memory of his recent murder, in which he had killed her. It was like an insignificant, emotionless detail that had passed away with the disappearence of the shining circle in the sky... Solitary and devoid of purpose, the man daringly stares out into the vast infinite above, seeking some type of sign in the first and final act of bravery he would ever perform. He was the ephemeral, he was the fleeting one... Purpose...? "Only death remains..." Gazing expressionlessly towards the horizon, the shadowy figure slowly walks into the wavey landscape of motion set before him, marching in one step at a time, numb to the feelings of icey cold it normally produces. As the sky brightens and daybreak falls upon the vast terrain of the forest grove, all that remains of the man are the outcomes of his hideous deeds, and the vague silhouette of his form as it slides effortlessly into the endless depths. Fin~
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