Return To Me Salvation 1/?
Title:Return To Me Salvation Part 1/?
Author: littlebroknsoul
Summary: Death. A simple and almost poetic word that can bring so much terror.
Disclaimer:Don't know. Don't own. As far as I know, never happened. Please don't sue.
A/N: This is an AU fic. It's also my first fic. Conscructive critisism is welcome, and encouraged. Thanks to heart_underrose for betaing.
Death.
A simple and almost poetic word that can bring so much terror.
People fear it, praying that it never lays it cold fingers on their souls.
Others welcome its touch.
Wishing, hoping for death to touch them.
Hundreds upon thousands die every year, from famine, war or just natural ageing.
I collect their souls. Or if I can not, I send out my messengers, my beautiful crows. We take the dead to their final resting place.
Their final and eternal home.
Some times the dying try and resist their fate. They beg for me to leave them in the world of the living, to let them live for a little while longer, to speak to their loved ones, to finish what they had set out to do so long ago. They try to bribe me, tell me they will give me gold, or women to warm my bed.
The dying only anger me with these hollow promises.
What would I, Death, have for gold or such trivialities such as women to warm my bed?
No, women would ever take my fancy.
Their soft delightful skin could never give me what I truly desire.
No, I would not grant a mortal longer life.
Their time has come, and I have come to collect what is rightfully mine.
I have been portrayed in many different ways, as a haunting figure dressed in a giant robe holding a scythe, as Father Time or as a skeleton dancing among the dead. None of these images are my own.
I am a man.
That is all. A man that has desires like every one else. Who feels, and hurts like everyone else. But there is a slight difference but the normal mortal man and I.
I can not and will most likely never die.
Only love could cause such a change. And I have seen no one in all my thousand years that has ever caught my fancy. Who has sent my pulse racing.
Who has made me wish that I could be with them for all eternity.
Until now.
Do you still wish to know who I am?
Who it is that haunts the night?
Who collects the dead, and the dieing?
Then I will tell you.
I am Ville Valo.
The Angel of Death.
And I have fallen hard and fast for the one person that I can never and will never be able to touch.
Brandon Margera.
Author: littlebroknsoul
Summary: Death. A simple and almost poetic word that can bring so much terror.
Disclaimer:Don't know. Don't own. As far as I know, never happened. Please don't sue.
A/N: This is an AU fic. It's also my first fic. Conscructive critisism is welcome, and encouraged. Thanks to heart_underrose for betaing.
Death.
A simple and almost poetic word that can bring so much terror.
People fear it, praying that it never lays it cold fingers on their souls.
Others welcome its touch.
Wishing, hoping for death to touch them.
Hundreds upon thousands die every year, from famine, war or just natural ageing.
I collect their souls. Or if I can not, I send out my messengers, my beautiful crows. We take the dead to their final resting place.
Their final and eternal home.
Some times the dying try and resist their fate. They beg for me to leave them in the world of the living, to let them live for a little while longer, to speak to their loved ones, to finish what they had set out to do so long ago. They try to bribe me, tell me they will give me gold, or women to warm my bed.
The dying only anger me with these hollow promises.
What would I, Death, have for gold or such trivialities such as women to warm my bed?
No, women would ever take my fancy.
Their soft delightful skin could never give me what I truly desire.
No, I would not grant a mortal longer life.
Their time has come, and I have come to collect what is rightfully mine.
I have been portrayed in many different ways, as a haunting figure dressed in a giant robe holding a scythe, as Father Time or as a skeleton dancing among the dead. None of these images are my own.
I am a man.
That is all. A man that has desires like every one else. Who feels, and hurts like everyone else. But there is a slight difference but the normal mortal man and I.
I can not and will most likely never die.
Only love could cause such a change. And I have seen no one in all my thousand years that has ever caught my fancy. Who has sent my pulse racing.
Who has made me wish that I could be with them for all eternity.
Until now.
Do you still wish to know who I am?
Who it is that haunts the night?
Who collects the dead, and the dieing?
Then I will tell you.
I am Ville Valo.
The Angel of Death.
And I have fallen hard and fast for the one person that I can never and will never be able to touch.
Brandon Margera.