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10-30-2014, 06:27 PM
The world billowed in its colossal form, drenched souls in misery, in agony, in terror, in horror, and they wandered through the carnivorous wake, another set of cogs maneuvering amidst the decadence. She followed the crowd of spectators, the pull of mysteries, the restless contortions of enigmas and torn labyrinths, shaded warrens with only ghastly pinnacles to climb: the gods unveiled more trepidations and fears when a body was unveiled, bloated, no longer shielded by an innocent state, rigor-mortum, decrepit, sullied and dragged from a chasm of living into the unrelenting slash of slaughter. The Songbird shivered, trembled, quivered, released a tremulous breath in the presence of a fallen soul, taken without a chance, without a moment, without an instant, to survive, and she bit back an oath, a promise, a conviction, felt it hasten into her blood. What if there were others, reaching past the folds and hastening execution, maiming, bloodshed? What if they preyed upon more of the innocent, youths, children, the virtuous and divine? What if they were all destined for the gallows, brushing by the killers, the murderers, on a daily basis? Where was morality, and how could they tip the scales in their favor, in their fervor? Lena, valorous and steadfast like so many of the others, would sway and sweep across the lands and attempt to identify the assailant, would attempt to bridge the gaps, would attempt to forge past the indignities, the danger, the treachery, and salvage justice for a beast absconded and removed before their time. Her honeyed gaze, usually luminescent, gilded, brilliant, only dimmed at the notion of a tragic loss, and crossed over to the ebony hairs: the sole evidence of the annihilator. Perhaps, with help, with assistance, they’d be able to track down the seditious exterminator before they claimed another for their darkened halls. Healers and Thieves Lena Roland Sikeax Alysanne Lena |
