The Beginning of Something New...
Title: The Beginning of Something New
Author: Rosella
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: I suppose it could always be much worse. Credit goes to House of Night series, Untamed for the prophecy mentioned in italics.
Prompt: No prompt
Word count: Average, perhaps?
“Ancient one sleeping, waiting to arise...”
His hatred grew with each passing moment, each tick and tock of time that resounded within the walls of this infernal prison . How much longer would he have to endure this humiliation? Damn them! They will beg for his mercy, his forgiveness; and maybe she’ll come to realize she made a mistake. His anger spiked, memories bleeding red at the thought of her. He would make her regret, weep an apology, and again take his place by her side. Like it was always suppose to be.
“The mark strike true; Queen Tsi Sgili will devise...”
The times were different, nothing like when he was free and in control. His words were no longer the cause of alarm but sweet whispers of a lover. Clouding the mind, manipulating it at his twisted whim. This vampyre was his, devoted to him rather than her. Slowly the wheels turned, slowly the walls began to crumble, slowly the world would behold his magnificence.
“Through the hand of the dead he is free...”
Would they see it coming? How easily they became the pawns on his chess board. He laughs, the sound a silken scarf of an apocalypse ready to strike down the innocent- No, there were no innocent. Each had ancestors and for that held responsible, one life or the next there would be retribution. Raven colored wings and hair smoother than the great eagle’s feathers, body chiseled to envy Michelangelo's David, and eyes of liquid onyx had their knees buckle. Their eyes were no longer theirs, their minds were no longer free; enjoy your imprisonment. So delicate this generation, taken in by mere appearances. No suspicions were detected, again his laughter trickled out.
“Kalona’s song sounds sweet, as we slaughter with cold heat.”
The expansion of breathtaking wings signaled the children born of rape and hatred. Flesh of his flesh, blood of his blood and living entities of what once was and will be again. Women bow, men die! His children will remind them, sing the song, create crimson rivers all through the night.
How do you kill the angel? How do you best the devil?
Author: Rosella
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: I suppose it could always be much worse. Credit goes to House of Night series, Untamed for the prophecy mentioned in italics.
Prompt: No prompt
Word count: Average, perhaps?
“Ancient one sleeping, waiting to arise...”
His hatred grew with each passing moment, each tick and tock of time that resounded within the walls of this infernal prison . How much longer would he have to endure this humiliation? Damn them! They will beg for his mercy, his forgiveness; and maybe she’ll come to realize she made a mistake. His anger spiked, memories bleeding red at the thought of her. He would make her regret, weep an apology, and again take his place by her side. Like it was always suppose to be.
“The mark strike true; Queen Tsi Sgili will devise...”
The times were different, nothing like when he was free and in control. His words were no longer the cause of alarm but sweet whispers of a lover. Clouding the mind, manipulating it at his twisted whim. This vampyre was his, devoted to him rather than her. Slowly the wheels turned, slowly the walls began to crumble, slowly the world would behold his magnificence.
“Through the hand of the dead he is free...”
Would they see it coming? How easily they became the pawns on his chess board. He laughs, the sound a silken scarf of an apocalypse ready to strike down the innocent- No, there were no innocent. Each had ancestors and for that held responsible, one life or the next there would be retribution. Raven colored wings and hair smoother than the great eagle’s feathers, body chiseled to envy Michelangelo's David, and eyes of liquid onyx had their knees buckle. Their eyes were no longer theirs, their minds were no longer free; enjoy your imprisonment. So delicate this generation, taken in by mere appearances. No suspicions were detected, again his laughter trickled out.
“Kalona’s song sounds sweet, as we slaughter with cold heat.”
The expansion of breathtaking wings signaled the children born of rape and hatred. Flesh of his flesh, blood of his blood and living entities of what once was and will be again. Women bow, men die! His children will remind them, sing the song, create crimson rivers all through the night.
How do you kill the angel? How do you best the devil?