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Post by ella on Dec 30, 2010 6:32:12 GMT -6
 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Time was now something that no longer registered in the fractured rainbow that made up the fallen angel’s mind. After so long, it just blurred into the different lights which flitted over the sky, and the different sounds flitting through the air, swirling in patterns around him. Other’s seemed so concerned about time though, really. Humans kept rushing to make appointments, or feared about being late, when there was so much else at stake, apparently. But it wouldn’t matter for long, anyway. No matter how this war turned out, the time was running out. Soon there would just be the sky.
The sky was bleeding right now, spreading the red glow over the rooftops of the houses. The day had been and gone, and now the watchers were switching with those of the night. And the sky was red. “Red at night, shepherds delight...Angel’s fly high, and demons down low with no place but the darkness into which to go...” He broke off, considering that, before giggling slightly. Odd how the words came out of him now. But he didn’t care. Other than him, it was quiet. For a war, you didn’t get much quiet now, did you? And yet, in the place where the people lived, and lives still tried to carry on as normal, quietness could rule. Or perhaps it was just because where he had been for the day, when the sun bore down onto the earth and filled it with light, noise and the sounds of the dying had ruled. He did enjoy fighting demons. Fighting them was fun. That was why he was here, really. This was run by demons, this area. Controlled...and he was itching for a fight, even though he was no leaving. Or perhaps that was the dried blood on his neck. That was itching as well.
His feet padded evenly over the surface as he walked down the middle of the road, head tilted back to look upwards. The red light spread over his head, making the Fallen look like he was bleeding himself. The soft click-click of metal rang softly through the air, caused by the small knife that was gently being thrown from hand to hand. That ornate carved blade did have the faint traces of blood running down it, blood he hadn’t remembered to clean off, but it was a sign. He hadn’t really paid attention as to whether demons could bleed before. He guessed they could. After all...he could. And before, he could. But he was no demon, not yet, although that was a future he was considering. Anything if it gave him his mind back.
His mind had been lost long ago, along with the ability to sense time. Now he was just...him. Untempered, uncontrolled, undefined. What a true Fallen should be, in his eyes, though that was unfair. He hadn’t fallen, no. He’d been kicked out for doing what an angel should do, for loving. Even now, eons later, he reeked of bitterness whenever that train of thought meandered over his mind. It was unjust. And yet, still he wanted to get back. Of course he did. Whether up, or down, who cared? No one but him, and either way, he’d get his mind back.
He came to a stop, and stood still, no movement other than the gently tossing of the knife. Click-click...click. Something else was stirring the air now...not just him. He wasn’t alone. That was nice, really, not being alone. He was in that sort of mindset today. Whether that died when the sun fully sank below the horizon, he wasn’t sure, but for now. He would welcome company.
“How doth the little crocodile improve his shining tale?” he mused to himself, not looking in the direction the second stirring of air was originating from. Let whoever was watching think him to be insane. It was best to get it out of the way in the first place. He paused, opening his mouth to continue, but didn’t. He couldn’t remember what came next. Oh well. “How cheerfully he seems to grin, how neatly spreads his claws. And welcomes little fishes in with gently smiling jaws.”
Company, yes? Company of fishes? No. He didn’t turn, didn’t move, and even stilled the hand tossing the knife with some difficulty. Should he just move on? No...unless it was a fish. A fish was someone useless, and uninteresting, and who’d hurt him rather than talk to him. In a war, there were lots of fishes swimming around, weren’t there? If this was one...But it might not be. He paused for a moment longer, before nodding his head to himself. “Duck...” he murmered softly, head still tilting upwards, looking at the bleeding sky. Then he spun his wrist quickly, flipping the knife up, then throwing it towards the disturbance. Towards whoever it was who was there.
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TAGGED; open
WORDS; 771
OUTFIT; hoodie
COMMENTS; Insane, wanna play? [/color] THIS TEMPLATE WAS MADE BY ELLA FOR USE ON WSRR. NADDA ON THE STEALIE FRONT. OR THE RUBBER DUCKS WILL BE SET ON YOU.[/center][/size] [/font] |
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Post by leviafantoo on Jan 1, 2011 14:10:45 GMT -6
give me amberising glasses
could you slow it down like molasses
as i salvage my old self away from you? [/font]    - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -She was always sad to see the sun go, of course, but at least it had the decency to make things less painful by putting on a show. Tonight seemed even more spectacular than usual, if that were possible. The bright crimson hue it had chosen for its display brought up unpleasant connotations, but the angel steadfastly refused to let it trouble her. As with so much else, something could only trouble her if it got close enough, and she was usually two skips and a hop ahead with a tune and a smile. Let it catch up if it could! Yefefiah didn’t stop to admire the sunset tonight, settling instead for glimpses. For once, speed was of the essence; the sun’s artistry was only a second class thought. The street she’d chosen to traverse wasn’t a safe one; but then, none were these days. She had spent the afternoon in the park, testing the swings, and only just realized the time. Darkness was for demons, not her kind, so she hurriedly vacated her seat and set out for her home. “Home” was such a funny word in this case. It implied comfort and ownership, neither of which featured there. It was only an abandoned house, and the disarray within was clue as to why. Her eyes glinted more brightly when she thought of the owners, driven out, maybe even killed, all on some demonic whim. But still she stayed there, because she had nowhere else. When she realized she had to turn off to a side street draped in shadows, she reached immediately for her defense mechanism to push back the darkness. She pursed her lips and began whistling a tune from her childhood. Though that time was far away and another life ago, these tiny connections to her past were welcome, calming. Thus fortified, Yeffie strode forward, hands slipped in pockets, but head held high in defiance of fear. It pressed in around her, almost palpable, reinforced by the lonely tapping sounds her boots made against the pavement, but when she heard another set of footsteps, it didn’t help, quite the opposite. Odds were, anyone out this late was up to no good. Whoever it was, she thought, her awareness was mutual. The footsteps paused, leaving only a quiet stirring of air; the other wasn’t completely still, there in the dark. Yeffie peered closely and was able to make out a vague form, its edges highlighted by the scarlet bleeding of the sun. A sudden glint of metal and she wondered if it was juggling knives. What an odd thing to do, and a funny place to do it... Disconcerted, she kept her eyes on the figure as she drew closer— she couldn’t have avoided passing by unless she’d turned around and made a deliberate detour. But she wasn’t afraid. At least, she refused to show it. The nearer she got, words began to filter out of the gloom. They didn’t make much sense; none but the last. “Duck.” A combination of instinct and close observation sent her careening to one side. A blade flew past, singing as it went before clattering to a halt somewhere behind her. She straightened but slowly, visibly shaken, and decided against further approach, at least for now. Instead Yeffie called out, “What sort of greeting is that, sir? You might have taken out an eye!” True, he hadn’t; but it was the principle of the thing. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -[/center] Tagged:: Pec![/font] Words:: 576[/font] Notes:: Why not?[/font] Credits:: Template : Leviafan. Lyrics : “It’s All Right” : Dar Williams. Images property of the BBC, no infringement is intended.[/font] |
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Post by ella on Jan 1, 2011 15:58:40 GMT -6
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Oh, there was something there. That was good. Pec had thought, for that moment when the knife handle vanished into the darkness, that there hadn’t been anyone there at all, and that he had, in fact, made up the whole thing. It wouldn’t be unusual really, not when his mind was in the state when it referred to people as being fishes and said the sky was bleeding. Making up things was simple compared to some other items that passed through the haze which surrounded the intelligent center of his mind. He didn’t know how long it took for the knife to fly. That was more time keeping, and that didn’t matter. It could have been a moment, could have been longer, but it hadn’t been long. Throwing a knife killed people rather quickly, after all.
The voice came out of that direction, and Pec relaxed. That was also good. Not only was he not imagining people who weren’t there, but they weren’t an immedient threat. If they were a threat, they would have taken the knife as a threat, wouldn’t they? Or a challenge. Pec didn’t much like challenges. They had no reason, in his twisted life. He blinked in response to the words, and then cocked his head to the side, staring in the direction the words had come from.
“That wasn’t meant to be a greeting,” he said softly, a faint trace of confusion colouring his tone and dancing around his words, “A greeting would have involved the word ‘hello’. Or ‘hi’, ‘aloha’, ‘bonjour’ or ‘guten tag’. A knife being thrown is the response some gives when they know they’ve been followed for quite a while. But I do apologise. Taking out an eye would have been considered rather...rude, wouldn’t it? Although...I did say duck. That was polite of me.” He was rambling. He had to stop that, really. It wasn’t the most helpful thing to be doing. Patterns woven out of words were nice on occasion, but not in company. Company didn’t appreciate it very much.
He stayed where he was, the only movement the slow, regular blinking of his eyes and his left hand, which he dipped back into the pocket of his hoodie, wrapping his fingers around the handle of another knife. You could never have too many knives on you, not in this time, in this world which had never stayed the same, no...but which was now so very different. It was a warzone. Going without weapons in a warzone was idiotic, and stupid, and Pec may be insane, but he wasn’t stupid. If he was stupid, he’d have been killed a long time ago. More references to time...he couldn’t seem to help those, even when he no longer had a concept of it himself.
“Who are you?” he asked, keeping his voice in the same, soft tone, not actually noticing whether whoever was speaking was in his line of sight yet. His sight would catch up, eventually. And talking nicely was so much nicer when dealing with people who weren’t fishes, or who could be fishes. Fishes...why was he thinking of fishes now? He didn’t know. Concentrate...concentrate, he had to concentrate. Concentrate of this, sanely. That was rather difficult. “And why were you following me?”
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TAGGED; open/yefefiah
WORDS; 547
OUTFIT; hoodie
COMMENTS; =D [/color] THIS TEMPLATE WAS MADE BY ELLA FOR USE ON WSRR. NADDA ON THE STEALIE FRONT. OR THE RUBBER DUCKS WILL BE SET ON YOU.[/center][/size] [/font] |
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