The borders were a hushed aftermath, and like bare, thin, glimpses beyond the veneer, the world portrayed the sullied void; the pristine grandeur of the peaks, of the valleys, threatened and endangered, then the warning, the omen, the reckoning, destroyed and decomposing. Like painted runes, the kingdom told a brief, epic story, collisions of ice and protection, of brutality and preservation, of all the savageness immersed deep into their souls, how far, how quickly, they were doomed and destined to repeat it. She too had been among the gathered, vivid, bright, brilliant strength condensed into barbaric wrath and wily, artful machinations – for a time, like so many others before her, desecrating iniquity while invoking and kindling the flames of her own debauchery. Still, quiet, listless, her heart beat as a monolith, as a stone, as a shard of rubble, languid in the distant anarchy, stare seizing the scene, posturing it along her mind as another poignant image for the future, rotting denizens and keen carnivores, searching and agonizing, lusting and yearning, and how she’d taken a part in their annihilation – whether or not she should be proud of the latter. Imogen sat beside her hooves, a triumphant statue, a glazed form of the beauty, the tranquility, the allure of danger and its potency, fire and brimstone, rigor and malice, the coaxing fuel and whims to Lena’s inner quandaries, and the maiden gestured to her companion with a wan, dim, faint, weak smile, before glancing towards the fallen canines, soon to be buried beneath the weight of winter and the forgotten opus of treachery. They’d be lost souls, tragic and bleak, trapped in only idle memories, when tempers rose, flared, when guardians united, when sentinels lumbered, when even her lustrous grins were sullied and turned to dust. Not as crisp, not as worn, not as tethered and shackled as the invasions or wars, but enough of a glint, enough of a rasp, to scrape against her ribs and bones, reminding her of the licentious lacquer and layers strewn amongst her thorny soul. Spilled secrets, noxious passions, specious, capricious moments scattered and thrown, tossed into the inferno, gathered for speculation and contortion; she drove her features into grim, stoic composure, like the calm, unflappable wind, and struggled to regain the inner serenity, the bubbling boldness, the clever audacity, and the brazen compassion she’d forgotten in the chilling air. Lena</style> |
[OPEN] Time to Up the Medication
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08-11-2014, 06:32 PM
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Messages In This Thread |
Time to Up the Medication - by Thranduil - 08-07-2014, 02:37 PM
RE: Time to Up the Medication - by Lena - 08-11-2014, 06:32 PM
RE: Time to Up the Medication - by Thranduil - 08-16-2014, 08:39 PM
RE: Time to Up the Medication - by Lena - 08-17-2014, 06:53 PM
RE: Time to Up the Medication - by Thranduil - 08-24-2014, 10:20 PM
RE: Time to Up the Medication - by Lena - 08-31-2014, 05:15 PM
RE: Time to Up the Medication - by Thranduil - 09-04-2014, 02:13 PM
RE: Time to Up the Medication - by Lena - 09-14-2014, 07:52 AM
RE: Time to Up the Medication - by Thranduil - 09-22-2014, 01:07 AM
RE: Time to Up the Medication - by Lena - 09-30-2014, 05:18 PM
RE: Time to Up the Medication - by Thranduil - 10-20-2014, 11:42 PM
RE: Time to Up the Medication - by Lena - 10-26-2014, 12:20 PM
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