#always frothing at the mouth for criminals and the like. its wild

[3416]

people wanting perry on the leafs are so deranged.

[qhostqizmo]

cupids arrow

“In Nordic/Scandinavian countries, "taking an arrow to the knee" meant that you are getting married/already got married”  ... basically cupid has Bad Aim

- - - - - - - - - -

She had such warmth and softness to her; such a mercy in her touch, that Amon couldn’t help but drag his eyes to her. It was a force; the echo in his ribcage, the blind man seeking the light, an inevitable moment like the tug of gravity but on his heartstrings. There was cascading hues in the way she said his name; tender and compassionate, that was only in wavelengths he believed the angels spoke. Something about her; the aura of life, the vibrancy of colors he’d never felt, what she held in her smile and eyes and in her very being seemed to burn away his every ache and doubt.

She was artful. The very incarnation of love. How her fingertips grazed his clothing left his very skin humming with awareness. Memories reflected not in visions, but in touch; it made his fingers clench tighter to the coolness of his blade’s handle longing for the protective sheath of her digits curling against his.

Then he looked at Essätha. Caught her eyes; the shining glimmer of gold and the quirk of her half-smile and the knit of concern in her brow. His heart stammered; the adrenaline from battle waning rapidly. The cold he usually felt after such fights; the numbness, did not come. The nobleman saw her face, and felt warm. All the racing in his mind, the anger, the twinges of fear, they vanished. The aches did not, however. Neither did the fall to reality, where suddenly the odor of sweat and blood met his nostrils. When the world came knocking once more, he realized just how tired he truly was; how his bones ached, how his jaw hurt from clenching, and the bloodstains on his clothes and matted mess of him must look.

But still she smiled at him. Her other hand reached for his face, caressing his cheek. The racing of his heartburn returned anew; caught alight by the streaks of dazzling fire where she touched him.

“Are you alright, m’lord Amon?” Essie inquired quietly.

Alright, he wanted to question with his parched throat and dry lips. He felt like he’d aged a decade in the span of a few minutes tussling with these criminals. Yet as sore and battered as he felt, it wasn’t the aftermath of the fight that left him dizzy and desperate for rest. It wasn’t the walloping he’d received that made him want to collapse to his knees before her, or beg for her bedside if only to wrap his arms around her and bury his face into her neck.

Why are you so good to me? He wanted to shout, his throat constricting around the question and so many more words he wanted to say. Instead Amon felt himself leaning into her touch, and into her glowing atmosphere. She was beautiful; wild eyes, tangled hair and all.

Her puzzled expression grew as the silence between them did. He was trying to find something to say on his lame tongue; a grunt even would suffice if he could only damn muster it. No one knew what he’d give just to hear her call to him again. It scared him; shook him to the core to understand that he had no limits when it came to her.

Then, with a suddenness, the innocence of her concern; the half-moon shape of her eyes, shifted in a fraction of a second. A pained hiss escaped her. The alarm seized him; tightened his muscles to see how her pupils became dagger-edge shards and her mouth contorted as she convulsed in a rippling motion of agony.

Her footsteps staggered uneasily to the right, and he shot out a protective arm on instinct to steady her.

Essätha swore quietly, her mouth contorted and face glazed over with anger and torment. From her side a bolt jutted out, but the width of it gave a very ominous indication of its depth beneath flesh.

Gasping, the nobleman’s vision tunneled. He whirled her to the side; a bit sudden from the way her teeth gritted and the way her breath caught unsteadily. With his teeth bared more animal than man, his gaze shot in a few predicted paths such a shot could come from.

There. A flicker of movement, briefly.

Instantaneously he was torn. The righteous vengeance; the fury of his hate and his anger frothed and rose up from its silent grave. Like a waiting old friend, it crept back in unexpectedly and held him. He wanted to see their blood spill. He wanted to see the fear in their eyes when they realized just how terrible of a mistake they made. He wanted them to suffer in agony for what they had done; for their last gasping pleas to be washed out by terrible screams as he crushed their windpipe and broke their bones to dust.

Let them feel true suffering. Their last thoughts would be their biggest regret for having ever raised their weapon with a whisper of a thought to hurt her.

Then his heart tore; pulling him in the opposite direction. The injury wasn’t likely to kill her. Their allies were nearby and she was not unconscious; a few mending words and prayers and she would be whole once more. But to leave her side; to leave her exposed to something else he may not have seen… To leave her perhaps feeling discouraged, as though his anger was more justifying and holy than to be by her side and comfort her…

“Nng- I’m fine,” Essie insisted, dragging his attention back to her. A well of red stained her lips and teeth; dribbling down her chin. A quivering hand clutched at the steam of the shaft, where a rapidly spreading dampness began to expand on her clothing.

Part of him was always going to regret not following through with his wrath, but between that or the choice of regretting leaving her trembling as she was now, only one of those he could bare a lifetime.

“Don’t pull it out yet,” Amon insisted; his voice thicker than he expected it to come out. Whirling his arm and by his extension, his cloak around her in a protective wrap, he ushered her gingerly towards the cleric beelining in their direction.

“Fuck.”

“You’re okay; I’ve got you Essie.”

Watching the way her eyes squinted, or how she grimaced in pain with each shuffle, made his gut wrench horribly. He could feel the boiling acid in his stomach. Fear and spite left a venomous taste in the back of his throat. He wanted to hit something.

With a trill, the cleric finally bounced up to them the remaining distance. Whatever they said first, the nobleman couldn’t hear from the furious roaring ringing in his ears. Then they reached to lay a hand on Essätha, and for the shaft of the bolt.

He grabbed Essie’s hand, and felt her fingernails bite and claw into the back of his hand as she hissed. A nauseating amount of blood came spilling out with the broadhead; tearing through more skin even as it exited the wound. Her expression grew paler. Amon grabbed her once more to keep her from collapse as the injury began to restitch itself beneath the clerics careful magic; healing even as blood gushed and bubbled to the surface.

“You’re okay,” he soothed, feeling the familiar jolt of life overtake his soul as she pressed her face into his shoulder. The heat of her breath fanned against his neck as she nuzzled her face against him, an agonized groan escaping her.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, and pulled her into the security of his arms. A promise. An unspoken vow.

She succumbed to his embrace with an unnerving amount of ease. She threw her arms around him, and allowed herself to be vulnerable. It allowed him a moment to catch his own breath, while resting his cheek upon the top of her head. It helped to hear her own breathing and heartbeat, even if both were still a little erratic.

“I’ve got you Essie, you’re safe.”

A faint whimper escaped her, and she nestled her face into his collarbone.

He kept his word, and held her, and her gentle heart, as carefully as he could in his calloused hands.

[pass3rby]

Caught By Your Past

25th Part

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed Pairing: Altair x Malik Warnings: modern AU, mature, OOC, original female character; unbetaed.

A/N: Good morning, San Francisco (or any other city of your choice for that matter)! Let's kick the day up, shall we?

She was on her way back home from campus when her phone went off. Having to fish it out of the tangle in her bag – USB cable, flash disc, second one, tissues, earbuds, lipstick – almost made her regret her habit of towing around the whole tech station and then some. Almost. She stumbled across her phone soon enough and the thoughts of getting rid of all those things first thing after stepping over the flat's threshold, disappeared again.

Checking the display, she gave a dejected sigh before accepting the call.

“Yeah?” So maybe her tone held a bit of a fake cheer, but there was no need to ruin someone else's mood, was there.

“There's this place I've heard is pretty rad!”

She figured as much; an eagerness to check out new places was a well-known trait of her friend. Trademark, barely restrained excitement in Mary's voice hit her full blast and really, was she ever void of energy? Gie was yet to see her anywhere near depleted. It would feel so good to talk with someone of a similar exhaustion level to her own. Maybe she could call Evie... Jacob's a pain in his sister's ass, too. That might work.

“Enjoy,” keeping up with the current conversation, she went with a sudden spur of a moment and entered a convenience store she was about to pass by. Time to treat herself; who knows how it'll look at home when she gets there. While choosing a thoroughly inappropriate late snack, she might as well listen to Mary, gushing over this new hot spot.

With luck, she only wanted to spill the beans and details about the new place and that would be the end of it. Gie was out for count as it was, just happy to drag herself to bed. Normally, she would welcome an opportunity to go out, but the constant hot & cold vibes coming from an unnamed pair of lost cases was starting to take its toll on her. Just as she was leaving for today's lessons, she heard them yelling again. And although staying out would keep her away from that for a little bit, she was ripe for a generous hibernation, not an evening out.

“You have to come with us!”

So, Mary was gathering a crew for the night out. Gie went with a neutral response, while absentmindedly checking one of the apples on sale:

“Sounds amazing-”

“I thought so, too! Pretty sweet. It's in a nice part of the city, too. Kinda dingy street, but it's not like we're gonna get jumped there.” True social life enthusiast that her classmate was, her mouth went two hundred miles per hour already, not even waiting for the explanative part of Gie's negative response. Also, no to that apple. Neither unhealthy, nor with enough chocolate percentage in it.

Tough luck today, buddy.

Skirting the whole fruit & vegetables section, she dived further to the more sin enabling and supplying section of the store.

“Altair and Malik are at each other's throat again.” There. At least she could make use of Mary knowing about the situation. Saves loads of time otherwise spent by a lengthy explanation. Maybe she won't even need to ring Evie up, after all.

Her friend, being a trooper, jumped promptly over onto the new topic like a pro.

“Thought you said neither of them is Spanish. Or French.”

“They're not, smartass,” and that chocolate looked tempting. She wasn't going to lower herself to buying an ice cream bucket, but that extra large hazelnut milk chocolate bar had her name on its wrapping. “You met them both to know that yourself.”

“So what's the deal?” Mary's voice was intent on the topic, fully focused like she always was with everything she decided to participate in. A good friend although and at the same time because of her brazen attitude, right there.

Okay, chocolate. You're coming with me. Do not resist and I won't be forced to use handcuffs on you.

Apprehending the criminal, she turned on her heel to go fetch something to drink, too – before re-turning around to grab a second bar. Just in case.

“I don't know. I mean, they are sorta... all-or-nothing kind of deal?”

“So, they either fuck or hate each other.” The words coming from the phone stayed true to its owner's spirit – no beating around the bush, they mowed the topic right over.

A vivid memory of mum threatening to wash her mouth with soap whenever she 'slipped', popped up in her mind. Mary wouldn't've last one day visit at their house without frothing at the mouth – one way or another. Funny thought right there.

“Pretty much. Without the-”

“-fucking. Yadda yadda yadda. I don't know if I should laugh at your brother or rethink my gender and step between them and wait which one would grab my ass first.”

“Mary!”

“What? They're attractive! Ten out of ten would tap that.”

Most of her friends did not miss the opportunity to tell her how dumb she was to let Altair go when their pack of she wolves was out last Friday. Mary'd just shrugged. 'Well at least you're out of competition if the guys ever changed their mind' – that're her exact words. While at least one of the girls would mean them, the free-spirited drinker had been quite obviously taking the piss. Like right now. Tough empathy – that's what Gie called it; Mary was the best.

Mood getting back on its feet, having shaken off the gloom, Georgie chuckled wryly and joined in the game.

“You'd stand no chance anyway. They wouldn't even notice you there.”

“That bad?”

“Their eyes are boning each other constantly, only their bodies resist the pull.” Now, that was a relief to say it out loud. Gie picked up a flavored green iced tea out of a refrigerator before making a bee-line to the cashier.

“Mindfucked too much?” It was hard to tell whether Mary was home already or not. While such generous use of foul language would usually point you somewhere 'safe to express yourself' if not in the home base direction outright, Mary was known to drop an F-bombs on a daily basis wherever. In the middle of the class wouldn't be her first time either. She lived closer to the campus, though.

“More like not enough.” Putting the handpicked items onto an empty space next to the register, she greeted the employee before refocusing back on Mary. Her answer must've betray a part of her previous dejected mood, because the response was instant and spot on.

“Damn. You're not coming, are you.”

“Not feeling it, I'm sorry.” There was no denying that she felt better now, but she'd still prefer to stay home tonight.

“Alright,” Her phone transported a heavily put-upon sigh right to her ear, “You're excused this once. If they drag you into their depressive circle of hell, though, I'm gonna come haunt their asses.” Fierce friends had certain perks.

“Or hunt.” Gie shot back good naturedly as she was getting through the payment procedure. That going off without a hitch, she was out of the store in no time.

“What do you know. It could bring the same results.”

“Despair?” It would be hard to miss her snicker. The door of the store closed behind her and she got back on her track leading home with renewed vigor, failsafe mechanism safely tucked in her bag.

“Ha ha. That's what I get for caring about you.”

But when the phone call ended ten minutes later, she wondered whether Mary will have to be taken up on her offer, if it'll really come to that. Will there be silence when she gets home? What sort of scene will greet her?[P1]  To make the suddenly reinstated warzone even worse, the pair of undecisive fools was getting along pretty fine as of late.

Did Thor hit them with his hammer over their heads or something?

Now, arguments and bickering were a part of any relationship. Clashes were either handled or not and that was it; a 'make it or break it' sort of deal basically and again, a pretty standard one at that. These two? They had brought the art of disputes to a whole another level by the sheer amount of practice in pair. What was left there to argue about, though? She could swear that they've argued even about the water pressure in the shower already.

Taking a step back, maybe there was no need for them to make it official at all. They fought like a couple already, so there was a good chance that they had the partner software for encouraging staying together installed, too. But maybe not.

Them being as they are? Holding onto the remnants of their wild card statuses while also leaning over toward the other? It could bring literally anything. As of now, chaos and strangling of one another would be her bet on the most probable outcome, no matter what she really hoped for.

What truly boggled her mind was that the 'wild card' issue was more of Malik's signature there than Altair's. Sounding strange? Maybe because it was. If anything, you could always count on Malik being solid. As on him being a silent snide sniper. His words got the kill while his face might as well been cut from marble. That was his nature and it came with an objectively calm demeanor. All of that, her brother might rightfully pride himself for, because he perfected every single part of it to a state of art. Throwing him off, not to mention making his wall of tranquility crumble to dust wasn't an easy achievement.

Then Altair entered – or re-entered – the picture, turning out to be an equivalent to the proverbial fairy with a magical wand. 'Unusual' wouldn't even make the cut for an appropriate description of how out of character this was for her brother and still, the facts stood.

Not that she hadn't wondered about the strange enigma before; it only wasn't as important then as many other aspects that needed to be accounted for. But maybe it should have been. Altair's presence was undeniably toying with Malik on a full scale, so it was safe to assume that their whole relationship must've been even more complicated, elaborate or not, than she anticipated – and she gave a lot of room to possible variations of their history.

What was so bad about Altair that kept Malik doubtful?

Their personalities clashing could hardly be the reason – it obviously didn't matter even back in their heydays. Was he still hung up on the fact that she and Altair together were the plan A and the reason why the guy was here in the first place? Her brother could, indeed, hold a grudge. Was it the job? If so, then... Okay, it wasn't a traditional nine-to-five job where you are safely tucked in an office, she'd give Malik that. But Gie saw them together; this hesitating and dancing around each other would make sense only if they did not feel as strongly about each other anymore. To that, she called bullshit. She'd probably do the best to ask Altair about that when the soonest opportunity arises.

Using the key to their flat, she unlocked the door and nudged it ajar.

No sound.

Promising enough. Entering the flat, she put her bag on the bench right by the door.

Altair was passed out, half-lying behind the living room's low table, half-propped up on her beanbag in a position that suggested something was missing in the picture. The flat screen was still on, although only some commercial nonsense on low volume was taking up the screen there.

Before she could investigate the crime scene any further, different kind of muted noises caught her attention. They were coming from the direction corresponding with only one room in the apartment. That answered the question of where Malik disappeared to. Taking one deep breath for courage, she walked over to the kitchen.

“Hey.” Her greeting was on a cautious side of the spectrum, but nobody could blame her.

“Hey yourself,” Malik answered in kind readily enough if a bit distracted. Scanning what must've been instructions on a box of something presumably eventually edible, his attention taking its sweet time to shift onto her. Not that she minded; this wasn't bad compared to any kind of confrontation. She'd had it up to here of that.

“Coffee?” The offhand offer made its way to her, while Malik's eyes flicked back and forth between her and what appeared to be an instant version of Rubik's cube to him. An already made batch of coffee was the current main star of the kitchen counter. Steam coming from it declared that the beverage was fresh, too.

“Uh... I'll probably go with just tea? Thanks, though.” Perking up at that, he decidedly put the package back in the pantry, obviously finding the required amount of effort overly too much to bother with. It would also be Malik's attitude to food in general in a nutshell.

She was about to go over and set necessary things up to fix herself a cup, but Malik was one step ahead of her.

“The tests weren't bad then?” She watched as her brother proceeded to put water in the electric kettle before switching the thing on.

Oh.

“They were fine.” Since she had to wait for the water to boil, it was only sound logic to plop down on a chair – which was exactly what she did.

“Were they.”

“Stop it, you moron, you're not my parent.” Reminding him her adult status was a moot point now, but she did it anyway. Meanwhile, Malik poured himself a mugful of the steamy, tar black liquid, completely unperturbed.

“Look at the good news. The day's just gotten better for the both of us.” For all intents and purposes, his expectant look was interchangeable with the one of a hawk stalking its prey. She grudgingly conceded only because there was no other easy way of getting from under that type of scrutiny.

“I may not ace them both, but it wasn't as terrible as I expected. Professor de Sable took ill and our tests will be marked by a substitute teacher, so there's no way I'll get a bad mark on that one either.”

The nightmarish teacher had been picking on her ever since her first year of taking the course. She couldn't help but secretly think of his illness as a gift from above.

“I though you said you got a different lecturer already?” If Gie was ten years younger, she'd probably appreciate his brotherly frown much more. As it was, she could handle one numskull without any additional help.

“False alarm. That would be that substitute I've mentioned. Looks like the baldhead doesn't know when to-” Sensing warning in the air, she promptly changed the intended ending of her sentence:

“-leave the scene,” which was closely followed by a quietly mumbled “or kick the bucket” original version.

“You were saying?”

“I said that he apparently must've dig his heels in somehow.” Gie blatantly lied without an ounce of shame in her body.

The good thing about being raised into adulthood by a strict brother? He was still way more lenient than their parents would be. She held no hope of her brother believing that's what she really said, but he let her be anyway, because Malik himself thought that the guy was an asshole. But even better than that; any 'tight spots' like this one trained her in the façade game that Malik was a master of, too.

When he wanted to be, that is. Looking at him taking the box full of teabags in his hand, nose wrinkling in disgust, one wouldn't believe such a claim. If Malik could, he would hold that box like a bag full of dog presents, no doubt. Dork.

“Sheesh, you're a riot. Give me that,” Getting back on her feet, she stole the box which was offending her brother's sensibilities out of his grasp and fished out one teabag before storing the rest back in the cupboard. Right on time, the kettle switched off, too, so she threw the teabag inside an empty mug that Malik had left on the counter for that purpose exactly and poured hot over it straight away. Brimming with satisfaction, she looked over at Malik, who still did not bother to regain his stony decorum. As much as he was furrowing his brows, though, he was in a casual, laid-back mood.

“You should stop.” Still, his voice was as gruff as always. His nod towards her drink said all there was needed to decipher what he was referring to. She nonchalantly ignored the clue, pretending ignorance.

“With what?” She intentionally gave Malik an innocent look.

“Drinking that garbage.” As if she did not see that coming. The deadpan nag made her snicker for its utter uselessness. They had gone over this one thousand times already and yet, somehow, Malik never seemed to tire of it.

“You should stop,” she shot back to exact her revenge.

“With what?” Humoring her, he went along with the game, striking the familiar pose which included folded arms on his chest. His eyes were soft, though; contrary to their hard shine whenever adapting the posture in a serious conflict.

He probably expected her to say something along the lines of “nagging me about the tea” and to be fair, nobody could blame him for it since that was exactly what she wanted to go with. Initially. But a single, no matter how short, moment to rethink the opportunity was all it took to decide on a change. Biting on her lower lip, she went for it.

“Being so stubborn.” And she might as well ask for a sky to lean down and hand over some of its stars to her while she was at it. Honestly, Gie was well-aware of how her words sounded. But demanding an all-out annihilation of the character trait wasn't the point here. Therefore, she clarified:

“Why do you guys argue so much – really?”

Fully prepared to see him withdrawing into himself and closing off again, she faced a distinctly different reaction. While Malik was fast to catch onto what she was talking about, he showed no sign of being displeased with the topic.

“I argue with idiots in general. That's my job. I thought you already knew that.” Even busy with removing the teabag out of her mug after taking a careful, evaluating sip, it didn't stop her from pointing the obvious, encouraged by his response:

“Yeah, but not like you do with Altair...” It was much easier to continue pursuing the matter with his open attitude and his trademark scowl on vacation.

At last noticing that the issue was really troubling her, his blasé vibe evaporated out of the room. Sh- shrooms in a meadow. Counting her chickens way too soon.

“Geor-”

“I know I have no right to stick my nose into it, but what happened so wrong that you feel the constant need to butt heads?”

Silence and him clenching his jaw didn't look much promising in regard to her hopes of getting an answer when-

“We just do.” While his tone was even, and Malik obviously managed to reign whatever had made him grit his teeth in, all she got for her trouble was less than a bare minimum one would be able to work with. Before she could even let out a put-upon exhale at the cryptic reply, though, he gave in and elaborated further:

“It's the way we deal with stuff.” Now it was his turn to mumble something. What, Gie didn't manage to catch, “We've solved the... issue already, though.”

“So you'll argue less now?”

“Not likely,” if that wasn't a definitive statement right there. Splendid. She was starting to think that Mary was right. In one-year time, Italian mafia will pale in comparison. Relationship preferences...

Thinking back a bit, this was the first time Malik also openly addressed his relationship with Altair in her company. And what a fanfare did he chose to play it with. Speaking of that, on a closer look, Malik seemed this close to ask a question of its own, but he swiftly buried it expertly, shoving his attention into the caffeinated drink of his choice, he was holding. She could guess what this was about, though. Her brother was truly hopeless.

Ask who needs it spelled out for them again, brother.

“Hey.” Unphased, she walked over and started to unload stuff from the fridge that would make for a solid, good meal when rightly prepared. Chicken, vegetables and rice will do it.

“Hm?”

“I really don't mind, okay?” Malik took some time to react other than pin her with an intense gaze.

“Why?”

She smiled. For once, he was the dumb one.

“Because you're my brother.” Good and done with that, she pulled out a cutting board, issuing a challenge:

“Wanna cook together?”

“You'll tell me to get out in five minutes flat.” Was the gruff answer.

“That's not an answer.”

Keeping an eye on her with undisguised suspicion, he cautiously went to get a knife.

“The kitchen counter is not long enough for both of us.”

“I was here first!” Immediately calling dibs on the piece of furniture, she laughed as he swore.

Next

[glopratchet]

origin-of-astrly-wylde

and has been given the name "The Dark Lord" by his fellow wizards for having such an affinity with such creatures They were found in a cave that was being used as a haven for these creatures, but they had gone into hiding after their previous encounter with the explorers Everyone he has ever loved on any world he has been on, seems to be taken away from him, dead or given to someone else being involved since their discovery, and it doesn't look like they'll be leaving each other anytime soon fur, his black tentacles curl and twist distastefully around the cauldron and pull green and purple goo out of it and throw it over the fire which starts A lot can happen in a short period of time them and starts to try deviling the performance while reciting his feelings while staring at the red stone in the jar that he uses as the final ingredient for the ritual that this isn't working and that hes waited forever for something that isn't coming he says for the first time to himself on an empty earth that is being appeased by a green cauldron of souls he continues to say with agreement in the form of an echoing growl that seems to resonate from the spooky woods around him " he continues to say with agreement in the form of an echoing growl that seems to resonate from the spooky woods around him the echo asks with what seems to be like fear in its tone for the man who is sitting in his own filth at this point to all of existence Whatever was going on with his mind, it's over now and he can move on slowly by floating back up from the pit that it fell into along with the rest of his thoughts, he notices the little dog-octo sitting on his shoulder giving and buggy It's frozen on the start up animation from 2006 called "The Butcher" her forward in little jerks like a marionette with rusty strings "fine, " he says, and realizes the mouth doesn't move when he does that he doesn't have it on this pitiful world anymore and he can never go back to perfect vision again but he understands now that the smallest of details matter the most when going mad and accepts it readily now when he remembers them Now this wood is burned to crisp, he rememberes that there was a wildfire that had swept through it years ago at this point that he can't even save the changed name to his profile, he can only stare at a completely black screen with a message from the author in overly and the messages he types to them and this continues for more than a month before he stops trying again most of it is beyond his current understanding but he definietely gets the gist of it and he opens his mouth to say "We are liars" "The Corrupt" are mentioned throughout for power, Thor speaking out against the "spirits of the dead" them into this world forever Miltant blood infection that roots back to the maggots and death angels terrorizing them during the New-Huma massacre Chief Warlord along with his doomed halfbreed lover at the time The whole world holding it's breath for the inevitable who would be ruler of the lands nearer eyes over the city being devoured by its own people Astryl glazing necropolitical eyes over the city being devoured by its own people Looking everywhere except for what he's supposed to be looking at: The Emperor slowly writhes on the ground while bloody froth drools from his mouth Such titles as "The Just", "The Well Intentioned But Misguided", "The True" Even "The Last Of Their Line" away from his numerous self-allotted illnesses that ravaged his body A filthy infant wandering the slums and gutters alone Possessed children are a very The blasphemous title of "The Godking of Necromancers" for You have seven marks in contemplation Astra is obvious yl sensuous binding kisses of the maiden While Astryl sways in pleasure hands down the cobblestone threshold the last ragged Astrylivver criminals heading slowly to a fate worse than death The list goes on but you're really not in the mood right now a scintillating blast of light Nothing of any interest anymore to you across the mouth of oblivion Stealing some royal tome from his nigh empty library in the shadow of the royal palace an indecipherable theorem locked deep in the ancient library of Stokl Opening up an entire new field of science her demonic master for his ammit stone The yellow jewel glinted back at Brutus from the palm of her hand the gods in the capital The field will later include series such as The Kingkiller Chronicle and A Song of Fire and Ice up the royal treasury with a trip to the diamond district You stroll over to the slums where you pick some bearded dwarf; the same one selling them for half the royal palace You'll be getting paid very soon Very, very soon a gladiatorial arena which masquerades as "sports" The warrior monks aren't too happy about the whole thing into a powerful corrupt sorcerer king While innactive he subsides on a steady diet of royal jelly and the unending adulation of his subjects from the sewers into the royal palace The sewers It's always the sewers a riot of rhinestones Where everything is a giant stage prop fleets of airships A dark red sabre hack from the sky the rise of the underground resistance It's you vs wild dogs vs grenades in a concrete drain pipe They don't care the rise and fall of empires to some ragtag urchins You explain how it's all an endless cycle one of the many songs he composed He is remembered for centuries to come not for the music he made but the atrocities he committed through the harsh desert wastes in a last charge towards glory Dressed in golden robes and a stolen legionnaire helmet he charges forth The yelling intensifies On a nearby table stands an automatic rifle and a revolver You awake inside a cheap hotel It returns With a flood as if the dam has burst the world devours you, rivers of information leaking from your consciousness The first thing you are aware of, is this Consciousness is a river A stream of symbols, sensations and infinite pieces of information flood into your mind You are laying in your bed, you know this But that knowledge is other knowledge, another thought, someone else's consciousness barely touching yours