↳ oo1 [ audio ] “ Baby's black balloon makes her fly ”
[ The incessant thrum of raindrops are evident upon the start of the transmission. There's a soft breath - almost like a sigh, though he refrains from speaking for the time being. Instead he remains in his contemplative silence as he studies the dreary rain-washed scene with a sharp gaze. Indifferent but not oblivious to those eerie stares from vacant eyes, he merely turns away, his footsteps sounding hollow as he seeks refuge under a simply decorated archway. The pitter-patter of rain sounds muffled now, creating an almost intimate ambiance to compliment Genesis' melodic lilt. ]
When the war of the beasts brings about the world’s end
The goddess descends from the sky
Wings of light and dark spread afar
She guides us to bliss, her gift everlasting.
Rain holds the power to mesmerize... Gaze intently enough and you may just catch a tale unfolding. A spectral city conjured from a dream so distant. But what do you suppose would happen if the dream wasn't yours to know, yours to take?
[ Despite the rain there's a peculiar quietness lingering on the line, gently curling around the words that aren't being said. Only the sudden crack of thunder marks the end of one passage, the beginning of another. Genesis' tone is still soft, still conversational, never-mind the frequent bolts of lightning illuminating the dark sky and striking perhaps, a mite too close for comfort. His smirk is almost audible within his next words, the picture being painted in his mind turning a deeper shade of disaster. ]
I'll assume this to be my twist of Fate then, shall I...?
When the war of the beasts brings about the world’s end
The goddess descends from the sky
Wings of light and dark spread afar
She guides us to bliss, her gift everlasting.
Rain holds the power to mesmerize... Gaze intently enough and you may just catch a tale unfolding. A spectral city conjured from a dream so distant. But what do you suppose would happen if the dream wasn't yours to know, yours to take?
[ Despite the rain there's a peculiar quietness lingering on the line, gently curling around the words that aren't being said. Only the sudden crack of thunder marks the end of one passage, the beginning of another. Genesis' tone is still soft, still conversational, never-mind the frequent bolts of lightning illuminating the dark sky and striking perhaps, a mite too close for comfort. His smirk is almost audible within his next words, the picture being painted in his mind turning a deeper shade of disaster. ]
I'll assume this to be my twist of Fate then, shall I...?