☠ Nail o12; [video]
[The high-pitched and crackling giggle that seems to introduce every broadcast that Undertaker puts on the network dances out on the airwaves for the listening pleasure of the city once again. Video is soon to follow, the camera pointed up toward him from where his NV. His chin is in his hands, fingers crawling in succession along his own cheeks, the right one bothering along the jagged edges of his scar. Light from the day outside is streaming through gossamer curtains behind him, the haze of the dust house visible. He truly is a terrible house keep. But enough of that-]
So many things have been happening, though the lull seems to have arrived. The calm is following in the hearts of the people, yes~? Aah, but I don't want it to end. Your nights are trembling and beautiful, your days murky like the London skies. Oh my dearest Siren's Port, I want to continue this dance with you. [A shimmy in his shoulders, a pleased little giggle.] Give me all these many things to delight in. The sneers and screams to harmonize in my ears.
[A small pause, perhaps in reverie, before he returns his attention.] I'm certain you all have heard such things as this, "Oh~ he was too young to die~" [A poor imitation of a sorrowful tone.] But I wonder~ when does this stop being applicable? When do you think one ceases in being too young to die?
Is there a point where you find yourself expecting death? Even wishing for it? Perhaps not for only yourself, but for another, for whatever reason, be it mercy or revenge, or something else. [A considering hum.]
Would this expectation, this desire, ever lead you to act? To take life into your own hands, and rip it away from the body of another? eeeheheeee~ My what amusing things to ponder on.
So many things have been happening, though the lull seems to have arrived. The calm is following in the hearts of the people, yes~? Aah, but I don't want it to end. Your nights are trembling and beautiful, your days murky like the London skies. Oh my dearest Siren's Port, I want to continue this dance with you. [A shimmy in his shoulders, a pleased little giggle.] Give me all these many things to delight in. The sneers and screams to harmonize in my ears.
[A small pause, perhaps in reverie, before he returns his attention.] I'm certain you all have heard such things as this, "Oh~ he was too young to die~" [A poor imitation of a sorrowful tone.] But I wonder~ when does this stop being applicable? When do you think one ceases in being too young to die?
Is there a point where you find yourself expecting death? Even wishing for it? Perhaps not for only yourself, but for another, for whatever reason, be it mercy or revenge, or something else. [A considering hum.]
Would this expectation, this desire, ever lead you to act? To take life into your own hands, and rip it away from the body of another? eeeheheeee~ My what amusing things to ponder on.