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Post by kemor lazed on Nov 8, 2005 20:13:19 GMT -5
Life after Death...
Heavenly shades of night are falling, it's twilight time
Out of the mist your voice is calling, it's twilight time
When purple-colored curtains mark the end of day
I'll hear you, my dear, at twilight time
Deepening shadows gather splendor as day is done
Fingers of night will soon surrender the setting sun
I count the moments darling till you're here with me
Together at last at twilight time
Darkness cloaked the land, the shadows creeping across the loam until every inch was covered in the ebony stain. And the heavens above were dark as well; there was no moon to light the way. The stars twinkled as bright as ever, but they were small and did little to illuminate the path. Crickets sang their sharp song as thin wisps of fog began to gather in the long grass. The day had been a warm one, hot and sticky with humidity. But now the night was falling, and with it came the chill air. At this time of the evening it was hard to remember that it indeed was summer, you could easily forget yourself and believe it to be fall instead. The air was fresh and crisp, and when one breathed it almost stung. His muted footfalls quieted as he halted for a moment before again continuing the journey.
He emerged in a sence of lust, his doe reaching a time he could not bear ignore. She help him entertwined in a web of her of spinning, mind waved into the silken strips. The neutral has excaped his grips only by a slim line, his mind infested with the season of his banche. However yet another distracted him, a femm traced in coco. She resided with another, her feelings expressed at one time. He had not paid attention to the incubator, apeall not present through his vision.
He made his appearance in the very dead of night, during the darkest hours of the eve, or the morn, whichever name you choose to use. There was no light to speak of, and he could only trust his instinct to lead him to safety. The path was treacherous, glorious, but he knew it well. He could sense his femmora, she was not far off. Rulence was set upon, its core relishing here. He would wait for his dear, his queen. Barronessa of all, dare one attempt to steal her heart? For the one attemting such a task shall find theirs laying uponthe loam, the organ beating with a menacing squeal. Laughing, laughing endlessly. You form shall remain unmoving, you death a mockery.
There were fools near, a group of them, and he slowed his pace when he could hear their distant breathing. Globes rolled behind the sheith of cramin, images of the horrid ones flashing before him. It appeared that they might be asleep, yet one crept up behind the fools. It was too easy to cause panic, and panic could drive a sensible equine straight off a cliff. No, this one was careful, and made sure to announce her entrance with a horrid nicker before moving any closer. Yes, they could panic, but they could easily attack as well if they thought she to be an enemy. A slight smirk crossed his features at the thought. He wouldn’t put it past one brute to defend a terra he roamed if not grafed with such presence of mind and it’s inhabitants with dabbed violent doe.
Let me show you the Shadows...
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Post by RiverRun on Nov 9, 2005 17:17:04 GMT -5
Poplars are standing there still as death
And ghosts of dead men
Meet their ladies walking
Two by two beneath the shade
And standing on the marble steps Darkness loathed the light. Lithosphere now draped in a darkness. Eerie shadows loomed the cove of their lair. Their home. Their intertwining fright. Creatures bound in the distance. Scattering in fright. In fear. In terror. A light footfall could be heard in the distance. Who may go about. The atmosphere remained crisp. Clear. No pollution of mongrel led beasts. Oh no. The tang of an early summer's night became apparent. The days becoming longer. The sun arising earlier. Setting much later. Alas the darkness be revealed to gray. May the sun never peek behind casted clouds of darkened hues. Never. Never. Silent woes wove throughout the darkened space. Lies. Deception. Cheats. All reprimanded. All fell to the unworthy sod that took impact to their footfalls. All who bid farewell, must fall. Fall hard they would. May no other scream his name. Kemor. No other whisper his cursing. Kemor. No one speak of his presence. Kemor. But she. Aaraya. The cherished minx of the realm. Who took her placings at his side. Aaraya. Who grasped their lonely hearts. Aaraya. Who you shall never scream. Aaraya. The darkened vengeance of the femmora was requested upon the homeland of the royal duo. Who be calling. Who be wanting. Who be screaming thy name. Who be pushing you too far. Who is the one you want. The presence of the hessian be already accounted for as it seems. Something bothered the powerful brute. What is it. Speak whats on your mind. Reveal your secrets. Intwine them within my mind. Within my soul. Within my thoughts. The alabaster hueing of the banshee accented the darkened settings that engulfed her carcass. Nasal passage flared, allowing the wafting scent of rotten hide to reach her. Blind her. Mute her. Sustain her. There is a sound of music echoing
Through the open door
And in the field there is
Another sound tinkling in the cotton
Chains of bondmen dragging on the ground. Serpentine took a demonic stance as the ess strut forth beyond the shadows. Beyond the darkness. A slim, large figure could be outlined from a distance. It be him. Kemor. Dare you call him yours? Dare you love him more? Dare you scream his name? Dare you play games with I? For the love of such darkened shadows? He be, Kemor. An everlasting, intertwining line in her web. A web of mischief and secrecy. A web of teases and murder. A web of two becoming one. A web of the demonic duo. Lab rums held ajar, cage rumbled as muted tones escaped the Vic. Lust filled emotions confused the bronc that she stood beside. She who was the problem. A problem with a solution. His secrets kept from her. Damned secrets! Her secrets kept from him. Another looked to her master as more than a ruler. As more than their king. But who? Enamels clamped together as fury build within the she. May thy soul be damned to the hell bound gates of the underworld. Your bodice laying sprawled 'cross the deadened topography. Lifeless. Do you have the guts to step forth and speak of your thoughts? Or will you cower amongst the darkened shadows. Remaining lifeless and un-loved. Cold and hard. Alone. Plumage arose from o'er top her porcelain sketched flanks. Her aromas attracting the bronc into her web. As a spider would its prey. A spark gleamed within her occuli. Fun this would be. Matted, knotted entanglements cascade downward 'cross her fascade. Allowing the beady, crimson tainted pools to peer with a hardened glare into the darkening abyss. Apex arose from its standings. Kissers curled back as her words whispered gently. Carried 'cross to the cochlea of the bronc by the breeze of the wind. Kemor, to have and torture, from this day on, for ill treatment, for worse, for your riches and no poor, in sickness and in bad health, to despise and to abhor, till death takes us as one... Stilts continued to stride the demoness forth to wards the mahogany hueing of her bronc. Words continued to be spat in a mere whisper with the wind. ...I pledge you my hatred. A grin of mischief painted upon her iridescent features. Twin zeniths perched forth, crimson hued pools viewed the bronc. I pledge you my life. And not other may take me.The nigrescent beauty of demonic presence appeared from her hidings. Each stride lengthening to reach that of Kemor. Become intwined in my web of lust. Luminous pools of hued crimson ran 'cross the czar. A low poem uttered from that of 'er vocals. His eyes burned into my soul, his skin was colder than snow, his laughter tore your world apart, his heart is blacker than night...He be, Kemor.The years go back with an iron clank,
A hand is on the gate,
A dry leaf trembles on the wall
Ghosts are walking
They have broken roses down
And poplars stand there still as death. Take me as your own... |
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Post by Sequin on Nov 10, 2005 17:22:52 GMT -5
ooc:
omg that post is very good. ill b working on mine -thinks-
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Post by Sequin on Nov 10, 2005 20:31:49 GMT -5
The bastard could not speak, for he was unwilling. The banche shall be discoverd by her ruler, her lower ruler. The louse, leech she may be. For he did not belive in such lust, lust for one so above one. But she remained locked in time, a life after death. She could not resist, the instanity seh possesed. It drove her made, he knew. He watched in smirk, a short cackle disperced. How he could not hold in such joy of ones greif! Contained to one, but the wench did not know the close relation. Sashe was the bastards calling, his begotten brother. A halfer however, a mortal. One could not explain this mishalf, a humor it was. The brutes pig of a louse queen served as nothing, stirring up femminane bicker amungst. He heard of the spree his death hoarders ignited, a grimm smirk set uponhis visage. He could not object to such...fun. Dial cranked to the easterd gate, glare unwavering from the looming entrance of smog, fade. Azure dabbed the survalence camera, as if the sky wished so spy and record every robbery taken place upon his relms. The tapes would be discarded, unused. Unless one may perhapse slip upon his files, desk a jury may be called.
Your age sir
Please step up to the platform
Hold your number
Did you not hear me you lazed mutt
For I wish to shake your satain bones!
[/center] The scent that sent him inter state of insanity brushed against his nares, visage twisting into a edgey sneer. His one palsterd in chalky hues had arrived, her web spun so sharply, so strongly. He was held captive in it, like a prisioner. He was on death row, awaiting his tourcher. He enjoyed such, his doe serving him well. She was his, all his. A prisioner to she as she was to he. For she had not yet realized the spun silk dancing around her slender curavaure, the glisening threads of fancy. Just a step closer, please. A pace would send you no further, the silks grasping your lovley frame, the one of which I own. The threads screaming in laughter upon the site of your capture, silenceing as son as the lord came. Snapping such cords of binding, your days as a puppet ending. But first you must entertain, entertain me now!
Please my dear
Take a step closer
Closer to one whom you belive you own
Closer to the one you wish to craze
Dont you want to be the only?
Secrecy in the amount of none
Please, come
[/center] The one who created a damn image of lust in his mind emerged from a single devil infested corrador, pegs of horrid burn pricking the loam. If the loam could bleed, it would be endless. Weaping, weaping a sorrowfull cry. For its tender skin peirced everyday, a gesture of thanks never once emmited. Kemor shant be one to think of such, such humble causes. But the geo stared upon ones who shared its presence, wishing to greet the duo with a quake, a murmor of its existance. Perhapse the loam would not cry, but scream in rage. Tremors spreading throught the lands, its terror leaving its mark upon hte unexpecting. Death marreing, dabbing its spread. If the loam were to live, what would it do? My dear she is nothing Nothing to me, a meek A one who wished for love A leech to ones skin A urn for power she has But seh shall recive none, none One day the stalks shall tell You shall know I will allow your search for her I will watch with glee She came, her strides remaining slow collected. Labriums curled, tabries rolled. The stag paced in place, a lather forming upon the pelt. A rope of ember he whealded, the heat striking the relms. One would expecta tunnle of smoke to rise atop the emerald tips, the blankets of green ruined by burning, burning lust for one whom enterd. Rage fulled his mind with horrid thoughts, was one attracted to his wench as one was attracted to he? Would one dare to preform such a grulling act of secrecy from benith him? Peds sunk into the loam with the flex of muscel, strapping serpintine hardend. The ebon mass was pinned into an arch, duos laced to the scull. Optics burned with the flashing of still frames, a bastard with no name appiring. He only wished for one to desire what was his, for the shattering blows ammitted would allow no attempt to rise. No doctor on hand, no nurse to dim your pain. The shades shall be drawn, your mourn none.
My dear tell me were it hurts
Take a deap breath
Your tempeture is high
Lay down to rest
All shall be fine
My dear tell me were it hurts.
The one now stood at his side, his side burning, slick with sweat. Dial cranked to the west, as if a forbidden site had been gazed upon. That was his. The tones she sputterd, endless with interpritation. Her tone explained all, all that she knew yet forced him to decipher. Whitty he was, for every hint was captured, stored. Matted cords of the he flagged the flank, breeze. Braces shifted to the side, a side step motion. Enamels barred, the drippings reached for the doe. His doe. Flesh burned with the touch of the wench, marvelious.
Your vowels projected, sly at thought. What is it you need my dear. Coos seaced, horrid glare marking the flesh of the she. Lower limbs shoved the mass of onyx into stride, a circle encasing the barronessa. His pretty glass figure, a figure created upon Sabboth. The day broken, the work marreing the sacred day. Therefor the item was black, horrid. A black sabboth it had shifted, the glass figuring turning putrid yet so becoming. Secretive and outlawed, beautiful yet horrable distasteful. ooc: Here i tryed. |
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Post by RiverRun on Nov 13, 2005 19:15:39 GMT -5
The Reaper Guards the Darkened Gates,
Where Satan calls his home.
And The Demons Feed the Fire
Where the Dead are Free to Roam Plumage took place in an arc of ease. Stilts remained planted to the unworthy topography beneath. Cochlea flicked to and fro. A peeked manor formed from the bodice of the banshee. Crimson pools of hatred and anger glinted slightly in glorified amusement. Alabaster hueing tassles danced 'cross her curvature. Flame licking the vix's sunken corpse. The she branded to one. Only one. But could another step up to the plate? Challendge the demoness of darkness divine? True dadiva of anger and hatred? Oui? Fore 'ppendai reached forth. Srapping. Scarring. Massacering the loam that she strode upon. Tremors caused. Lithosphere screaming in agonizing pain. Laughing at the duo. Taunting them. Teasing them. Until their the lashes be brought down upon it. Beating. Hurting in pain. Furry. Such fun it was. Share your thoughts. Your putrid hate of I. Your enlightening lust for she. Look in the mirror big boy. Your darkest nightmares have arrived. Or your interwoven crest of demonic humor of she. Her. It. Tell me your secrets. Your hidden past. Your infuriating futur. Your sickening plans for me. Your blinded. Sick as a colt. A love striken colt prancing for the fillas. Disgusting. Grow up boy. Take action for your plan. Toy me like an action figure. Drag me along on a short rope. Fasten me at your side. Hurt me till the crimson flows. Then see who is laughing now. Alone, amidst the glooming trees
And phantasmal tranquility
The chains of past decisions
Become my gilded cage...
Nasal passages flared. Salmons darkening to red. Massive intakes of air filtered throughout the ess. Shudders fluddered her porcelain cloakings. Occuli burned in amused as her gaze peered through thickly matted locks to the bronco. Thin lather forming as she wove in place. Weight shifting back and forth. From one side to another. Patience wearing thin as the clock continues to tick. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The clock struck a time of early daylight. A darknening ball of shaded grey rose in the horizon. The darkness uplifting from the litho. Scampering away in dreaded terror of the lightned grey that began to filter through the terrain. Driving the shadows to a minimum. Keeping them to a low. Yet never peeking behind the thinkned clouds of colorless shades. Hindquarters arose as his dentals plucked harshly against her hide. The ebon crimson trickled slowly. In a thick slime of gloopy liquid. It ran down her hind end. A hardned glare cast towards the bronc of ebonic shades. Tisk tisk. You dumb witted fool. Iridescent form aglow. Whipcord whisked lazily 'cross her flanks. Twin zeniths lay back and forth atop her poll. His carefully chosen wordage sunk into her brain. Her memory. Her thoughts. What is it I what, that you want?Do not play stupid my pretty. My glorious staturesque of darkness. My majestic mule of hatred. Of purified unwillingness. Push me. Pull me. In any direction you darn well please. Drag me along. Play me like a GI Joe action figure. Then see who will fall to their knees first. Who will go down in misery. As the other laughs in a booming tone of pure amusement. Then see. Labrums curled. Pearly barbs revealed to the czar. Serpentine outreaching. Barreling in reach of the he. The fucking mongrel that dare amuse her so. Grasping. Taring at his pelt. That of the onyx shades of the bronc. Mind games she played. An occasional physical act or two. Until the true duel began. Could the petite ess that she seen several times around her beast step up to her match? Come forth into the open with her secret? No. Too gutsy for her. Who was it? And why dare she risk her life for the want of another of hiearchy. Such stupid acts. Stupid. You're the one I love to love, hate to hate, love to hate, and hate to love. Dare you change that? A dance began. A strut of the vixen took place. Haunches took weight before bounding back and forth amongst sides. A thick lather began to stir upon her pelt as his games he played excited her. Aroused her. Make her want more. My planner empty. Would you like to make an appointement with death? I can schedule you in anytime you would like. And what is it you would like with the demonatrix? Whos wish to hurt is usually fullfilled. A mocking laugh which tones arose above all. And when would you like this to be? Is it really important for my want. Or your desires to be fullfilled. These mind games. The physical acts. Spit those putrid thoughts of yours. Come out with it. You know you want to.Death soars
Scyth in hand
Below the clouds of a forbidden land
Your soul is his
As you scream in fright
Summoned into
Deaths firey blight
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Post by Sequin on Nov 19, 2005 10:35:16 GMT -5
Secrets are ment for two
The giver and reciver
If a third is added intot he mix it indeed is no secret
But a scornful truth borugth tot he surface
My dear I shall speak
Trapped in your web I am
But I posses another skill
Embers setting the silks afire
I will take the lead as of now
Step back and watch
You whish to here such rancid thoughts of I? Heartless sputters clinging to the tip of thy tounge? Very well my lady, for you will have no were to run, no item of concealence to sheild your pretty little auds. But I do belive you wouldnt wish for such, your being bekoming engrossed in the tones, highs and downs of pitch. Do you feel threatend my dear? Fearful of another coming after your brute, yours only? No not fret, for the doe is not a specimine I hold favor in. But if you wish to know, she indeed is right under your nose. She roams with lord Sashe, kin of thy. Perhapse you shall pay them a visit, a dreaded one at that. I shall travel with you, just say the words, tell me what you need to here.
Is a trek needed?
The kin of thy holding the one you abhorre
Do you wish to leave?
So sad, I will not allow it
For I have taken the reins
The crop digging into your shoulder
You will obey me for the time being
Until my ride around the block is compleat
A trec will not be compleated
So do you feel cornerd? An ally cat with no were to run. Will you step foward, holding your own against the unknown? Will you scream for one to save you? I cannot say I would ignore the ally cat, the feline projecting such a call. The tom will come, stiff legged and feirce. You will be rescued my dear, but is that was you wanted? To be swept away as if you had no excape, uncapable oof fending for yourself? I highly doubt such to strike true, so do you feel cornerd. The wench whom wishes my presence is Ori, but yo cannot read my thoughts. They meirly dance upon slick globes, I will not tell. Let the poor wench have her dreams, let the poor wench suffer with the knowence she cannot always have her way. Indeed you are not cornerd, she is.
It indeed takes too to tango
But only one can lead
Step aside
My turn has come
1,2,3
Step now
So you wish to give me what I want?
Braces of onyx took a step, a step of faith into churn. His wench it was, none could dare change this. But will he collect a leser toy? Perhapse a servant to them both? Or would his banch request one of her own, a nanny of some sort. Speak it now my doe, all will be arranged. Tendons of the mug retracted, labriums curling. Boa tightend, auds lacing as the arch was lowerd, lowering to the flesh fo the minx. Enamels grazed the hing flank. Dial shot upwards, his own flesh brushing against the dribbel. Nares flared, her scent at its peak. Now was the time, the time a new era was to being. A horrid rumble was desperced, the vibration to be heard across the relms, but not only his sliver. The whole, Lemorsea pausing for only a meir second. The event noted, fear struck. Iron rocks began to pound the loam more feircly, rythmic. A slight leap was added to his step, as if he were a rocking horse left in the corner.
Now is the time my wench
I will lead you in the near moments
Accsept it now, scream in rage
Havent you noticed the mared I have added
Added to the pelt I become crazed from sight
Scream now, a scream of rage.
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Post by Aaraya lazed on Nov 24, 2005 16:12:35 GMT -5
ooc: ok, um Kemor, Aaraya will get bred so I guess we could make a post in the breeding thingie. Sound good? -skips off to breeding grounds-
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Post by Sequin on Nov 24, 2005 16:33:09 GMT -5
oki oki u make the first post tohugh
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aaa11
Regular Member
Posts: 241
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Post by aaa11 on Aug 14, 2008 22:16:38 GMT -5
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