Post by Fajera on Dec 19, 2005 18:23:14 GMT -5
*Findyourshadowinthenight.
there were still steps. broad ridges at a mere ghasted float within some sort of pitch like canvansed bog. skilled flints slipping over what had held such rough stance beneath the stone like existance. Fajera. it was a light pound. the pitter patter of the unknown vermons, though there was much more ellegance encased in such vile outbreak. pitty and mercy was recycled from the vocabulary years ago. ever since such weak chains had been shattered, the doll of discolored dappled arising to something anew. one new species of beast, with nothing plotted for the future. she had not needed some well figured plan. she played by year. by crafty palms. unsightly thoughts. that was her, though no one would know such. dome was slung attentively forth, dangling by a thin strand. a thread. the obvious bobb a conclusion to such odd behavior. broad seemed to slip from one slippery surface to the next, easily lurking for the time being as she had found it most pleasurable; just waiting to stumble upon something to catch the eye. a fine cut gem which would draw awe. oh, but no one has brought such since him. the gallant which had brewed his home made lust towards her. the vile little thing. and she had known what happened to him, though the thoughts.. the memories were flooded from such train of thought. nymph crazy enough to try and create a new foundation and act as if her past was but a mere book with the wrong ending. it was what mortals had shielded their eyes from. pain. she thrived upon such. devoured it as a young homeless and his free chocolates. it was the essence of pride which kept her captive though. wrong for another's sort of gay like accompany. her own struggle to lead, for that was what she was born for. dominance. it ran like a hot pack of rabid mongrels. she could never live on the bottom. it just wouldnt work, for you see, it was the past she was forgetting which strung her so tightly. a highly picked guitar.
with an automatic swing of muscled hips, the broad was sided by some sort of damp rotting foliage form, lathered doll like frame slowly leaning against such soft nature with a rumbling sigh to tug at the vocal chords in which rattled some sort of panging reply. now, personally, was not a fine time. the silver whisked was in a heavy seasonal throb, a natural beckon for male attention, though would one with a figure fall to such lame levels? or listen to some desperate slob. hah. this trip to wherever would surely be an interest. a lonesome stud attempting to tame some wild banche, who in turn would need to tame he through a wild blast of sensational aromas. and with luck, she would rise above through the pleasing sort.. or even better. not getting any sort of attention, she being left to wander aimlessly for the next unknowing and innocent target of pleasured shred. a lone thin harli had flung forth in recieving some sort of awkward shrill, the other to fall poll wise with an aggrovated sense. time to reveal the call's true revealer. some sort of squaking bird form in need of attention. there was a huff to seep from the doe, aggrovated with such low life in which was alarming her. there then was a hustle, flowing rustle she had seemed to sound off with the shifting of heated weight, a low sigh being thrown into the clear atmosphere before a hind had been shuffled into a more relaxed state, feathery plume to be cast in elevation with the release of rich aromas. it was so mournful, this tranquil scene in which housed many desperate little china dolls, all lolling for any terms. any slight factor of attention they could devour. it was a sad fact to be revealed, though all knew about such boundaries, and most of the male form had taken a high advantage over such. with their lam reign and all, they had collected all possible in hopes of spreading lineage or something of the matter. putrid. the only reason she had found it quite a bore to follow another's steps. just to be used as the next little brood. she had shame in such. gender and all. though it had not mad the achilles heal any deeper, more weak. she was too strong to let high walls crumble. the dominance factor falling into place once again. she had to rise above. it was her only chance of sinlike life without anothers offspring dangling from the glorious flanks.
with another thoughtful sigh there was appreciated silence. perfection in art. not another soul. how she loved such kinds of paintings. without another's body to litter such vision, though the peace of outer mind would eventually be torn from each corner with an arrival she had soon expected. the reason for such grim like vocalization, in attempt to seem quiet, though she was far from such a character. Shy are we, my dears? Don't be cutting such wounds deeper by being tardy... she had echoed with little sinceriety. this lame society was a disgust, though maybe a masked citizen would show themselves. maybe a drop worthy. it would leave her in utter shock. maybe acceptance. who knew. rocks were hard. though with enough throws, the soul could be shattered. give me a good hit. maybe you shall be thought of with a dim respect. cord had remained at a high perch, fully flipped to allow clean scents to slip with little effort. oh, the poor thing. how helpless she had been. how eager she had been. for the downfall. with more pressure to the damp trunk, there were a few muffled cries. a pleas from the foliage in the form of a snapping crack, a few moths hatching from their fluid-like eggs and creeping along the muscular boa of she, cradling the ghostly tendrils of she which had held a bouyant curl. wound and perked. evidently with thoughts on the mind. deep and churning. the small insects forming an eerie glow against such frothy pearl rimmed flesh line. the broad femme quite luminous with the basking pitch, silently lurched forth. awaiting some converse. no. awaiting some spill. to unfold deeper into such cascading depths of winding obsidian. the very still life before, littered with glowing insects and small winding vermons in which harvest and whittled away at the roughly carved earth. jagged and deformed. mine. *
I luff meh tay! hehe well then, off to another palce I go I guess... 