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12-05-2012, 12:41 PM
KEAHI
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Die Sonne scheint mir aus den Händen, Kann verbrennen kann euch blenden
His arrival is every bit as magnificent as one would expect of a God. It is something she appreciates, a divinity that is not in doubt about His glory. Someone who knows to separate Himself from the mortals in order to keep them fearful of Him. A soft God is pointless, in her eyes, and therefore she has never wasted much breath on prayers for the Earth or Moon. “Lord of Light,” she speaks to return his greeting. Her devotion is absolute, and the smile that threatens to show upon His face does not go unnoticed, returned by a broad one of her own. Her crania is lowered in respects to him, lobes perked alertly as he speaks again, peering up at Him at His inquiry. The smile that has painted her face with affection and gratitude is suddenly turning wicked, eyes glistening a little brighter as the memory of the Night of Flame returns to her. Raising her head, she reaches up to put her muzzle close to his ear, as if whispering a secret. “Dread. Terror. Despair. Like their last hour had arrived,” she says, voice little more than a sassy purr. “Putting it in words doesn’t do it justice, Heavenly Father.” |
