Dream 721:04 Dec 27 2005
Times Read: 568
Her eyes flicker open as she realises something is different, her skin feels like it is being caressed by a thousand soft lips...her mouth parts and small gasping moans escape her lips..Stood under the hot jets of water her body undulates, in a primitive rhythm...she slides her hands over her soapy slippery skin, moving them slowly up over and between her thighs, over her hips, moving her fingers in small circles over her stomach before reaching up to smooth them over her breasts and then up into her hair, moving still to an unheard beat...She suddenly goes still, her cheeks flush and her eyes open wide,
''Who's there?''
Dream 521:03 Dec 27 2005
Times Read: 569
He watched her the light gray color from his eyes seemed like two pools of water reflecting her image into his minds eye. His gaze stole every feature of her form, as he studied, the tiniest details of her body, like an artist painting a women from his dreams his desire to touch her, to hold her found root someplace down in the deepest recess of his mind, his gazed flowed across her watching as the water streamed down her body like tendrils, and then the demonist had a thought, a smile broke across his face and with one hand raised the image he stood in froze by a silent act of will.
He walked around her as she stood trapped between the seconds, a fleeting heartbeat later he transformed himself into living vapor, matching the surrounding steam the shower had created, with another act of will he joined time resumed at first slowly as he entered her realm a living fog that reached out slowly at first invisible and unseen he slid a tendril of himself around her waist as he began to caress her body. Sliding like a viper between silk sheets he undulated along her skin like a warm blanket unfolding into every crevice as he sought to touch her, the warmth of his presence was comforting and seductive, he traversed her skin melting into her pours cleansing out debris in his wake, the water washed away as he slid a gently massaging force of energy pulsating with every turn of her head, to any one outside she appeared to have been wrapped in a drapery of silken strands that seemed to writhe and constrict and release she was for a moment an exploratory incident, of passion his mind touched her flesh with the thought and images of a thousand soft fingers…
DReam 321:02 Dec 27 2005
Times Read: 571
He stood on the balcony the rain had come without warning, and with the force of a thousand giants, it appeared that a wall of living water fell from the enriched dark clouds the demonist stood their watching the chaos of life as it fell from the sky, his robes moved in the wind that the rain stirred as it passed between the parapets and fortress walls he knew that time was changing, with a smile he held up his hands and a globe of light appeared it swirled a bit then focused itself upon the features of a dark haired woman he watched as the globe expanded into a near life size moving picture, it encapsulated the demonist so that he was merely a ghostly viewer, he enjoyed watching her, especial as she was about in her day to day affairs he drifted beside her occasionally reaching out to touch a ghostly strand of her hair
Dream 221:01 Dec 27 2005
Times Read: 572
She awoke with a soundless scream being wrenched from her throat, her back arching as if she were being lifted from the bed by some invisible hand, the sheets of her bed twisted up in her hands. Her hair plastered to her scalp by sweat, which also drenched the rest of her body.Her eyes look as if she swallowed the night sky and it took up residence only there, wide, black and hollow. After what seems an eternity but yet only a fraction of time has elapsed she sinks back into her resting place as if someone just let all the air out from her body. Her fingers slowly and painfully unfurl from the sheets and she she reaches out to pluck a petal from the air. She brings it up to her mouth and rubs it along the corner of her lips. Rolling over she buries her face into her pillow and curls up into a small ball, her body wracked by the soft sound of her crying. For a small infinitesimal amount of time.......She shakes her head as if to negate her own thoughts. She waits for the demonist to return once more....even if only in her dreams.
Perceives Dream 1
21:01 Dec 27 2005
Times Read: 573
The cold lonely wind tried to tear itself apart as it howled and raced madly through the dreaded forest of spineridge. She opened her eyes only to find herself standing on a hill over looking the dense white undergrowth that seemed some how to cling to its last remnants of life, even though any forest walker knew it was dead, as was everything else around her.
The full moons stood like a ghostly Galleons in the black sky the stars had long ago fled for their light was as unwelcome as the suns, the leafless tree's offered up whispered homage to them or from another perspective, they seemed to claw desperately at their pale light to ashamed to be seen.
Standing alone she breathed slowly, this place had the uneasy feel of an ancient forest that was teeming with a life, but the bleached white bark, and thin branches spoke only an illusion of its perceived reality, the loud snap of a twig brought her attention to behind her, turning quickly she met the eyes of the demonist.
She stared into the dark grey orbs of his which stared back into her own; they were like two white hot iron rods that stole the chill from her flesh as they gazed deep down inside her own, a warm soft shudder ran along her body as the heat between her and him felt like a furnace in a place so cold and dead.
Life and the heart beats of another in moments like this could make a person feel so powerfully weak, her breath stalled and she thought she was going to faint, but his arms caught her, preserving her from a fall and with in seconds her body felt light, as his touch was liquid fire that washed across her flesh in one long wave, she could only gasp as each beat of his heart was felt in the folds of the lithe limbs he had surrounded her with his scent was as intoxicating as the situation, unidentifiable yet a scent she could never forget...
Each pulse sent a cascade of sensation from her cheek pressed against his shoulder that leaped along her flesh down into her shoulders, tension followed relaxation that moved like a waterfall and slid along her form like music, cascading down spreading out between her legs sliding and slipping on its race into the earth beneath her feet. Death crowded all around the two as she clung to him caught entrapped yet free.
The wind howled and the branches shook like the rattles of a thousand snakes wanting to tear at the two for such an insult, the forest of spineridge wanted the taste blood, not selfless compassion, the ground bulged and then let out a groaned only to be followed with a heaved till alas like her it shuddered in response her body was an instrument that played a tune that sent a mixture of pleasure and emotional tranquility, and in response, old clawed hands sought the cold free air above the earth that rolled in its own refreshed excitement.
They eagerly grasped seeking the source of the warmth of melting flesh, and like in birth they begun to unearth the terrifying fiends, that lay buried for so long, that history no longer had a name for them.
The dead rose one by one, an army sufficed, with hearts of obsidian and veins of ice they ringed the pair in a great circle, and as she buried her head into the he cool folds of his cloak, to supress her own scream and then she woke up...
All that was left of the dream was her drenched in sweat and above her flittering down was a shower of rosé petals, and snowflakes lightly landing around her, and the faintest hint, of a scent she could not identify, but would never forget...
420:59 Dec 27 2005
Times Read: 574
::The Demonist bows his eyes aflame with a light that has only been seen since he courted semuta, his gaze relaxes as he stills the emotions that roil beneath the calm exterior of his being, he looks at the violin case that hiss imploring him to take her up in his arms, calling to the sound that he knows would bring eternal peace, with a soft words his voice milling about like a poison :: Not yet my dear soon, soon i wil play but for now we wait... ::with a bow he listens to her replays the words in hishead and he smiles happily for a second before the coldness of duty returns and he speaks in a soft tone, the words crawling from his belly fighting for breath...::
Poetry – Every god is a slave
Worship me my queen, for all things become a glimmer that reality
holds together. Lay down my slave yield yourself before me. Now
please sit, now beg...
Every god you see is a slave born to rule; every slave is the power
holding the chains with delicate hands they keep the wants of the
many in exchange for the needs of the few.
Know how to love my goddess, for never before has your masters spoken
with such silent voices. The honor of being one god’s worshipper is
the honor of being one slave’s god.
Pray to me my queen for I have always been just one step away from
moving into a moment of seductive peace, one step away to learning
more about what it is all truly worth to just simply be.
Living with a smile for I have always been the silent shadow lounging
in the corner feeding in the dark, as time tries to tell me down
through its years that all we are is all we got.
Let me worship you my goddess, let the slave kneel before you as we
just pretend that we will save each other. Lets pretend we are one
another.
Lets dance when the moon is naked and find out how every god will
be. Watch us as we stands like Adonis in the sun hoping that our
dreams are found wrapped in Aphrodite’s charms.
Wanting nothing more then the idle pleasure of serving you as the
wretched charmed cats that we are. After all we find that no one can
say what he or she mean any more then what he or she can give.
Yet watch as every one else begs to be noticed
by you who are the elite few
-Calis Reaper-as he watched nothing but enslaved worship at a club-
Deamonists22:33 Dec 21 2005
Times Read: 581
Standing for a moment she lifts her face to the cold...enjoying the crisp clear wind on her face...before strolling towards the place she has been shown...She stops at a certain grave and bends down to it, she doesnt read the wording on the moss ridden stone but carresses it like a long lost lover, hands roaming over the cool, moist material. She rubs her cheek over the curve of it and stretches over it a low moan escaping her lips...her hair trails along the dirt below her, then she looks round, just her eyes shining in the moonlight...Whispering Calis' name she smiles
Healer20:32 Dec 17 2005
Times Read: 585
She stood above the battlefield, watching. A solitary figure. Long flowing hair, the colour of a ravens wing,slight touches of grey at the temples. Her eyes the colour of sun baked earth. Skin a creamy buttermilk white. She was so far removed in appearance from her sisters that it was a family joke she had been swapped at birth. They where all lithe and muscular. She was all voluptuous. A smooth flat stomach flaring out to childbearing hips. Big firm breasts that begged for a head to lay down upon them. She was the healer. Good with her weapon of choice but no warrior. They called her the little mother.
She hunched her shoulders as if against a cold wind and trembled. yet it was not cold that made her do this but her own fear. The acrid stench of blood and urine filled her nostrils and made her want to gag but she knew she had to do what was right. True they'd ordered her to stay behind but how could she. Those dying below belonged to her. Wasn't she the one who brought them into the world, loved them whilst they lived and guided their souls to the next world when they died? Didn't they need her now more than ever? Her boys especially. She had taught them all how to love, helped them make the smooth transit from boy to man. Taught them how to pleasure the women and worship the goddess in each female.Then held them when they grew old and tired...speeded their way to the next world...handing them over to the Ancients. She was a softness in a world of men. For both male and female. They turned to her when they needed comfort and healing. She loved each and everyone of them as if they came from her own loins.No, not for her this lonely vigil.
Shrugging her cloak to the ground, she raises her sword arm and screams out her battle cry, one that admittedly would raise a few smiles if she could be heard over the din of battle...''The Mother comes''..It even raises a wry smile on her own lips. Jumping of the ledge she stands on she hits the ground running and screams her cry as she rushes headlong into the fray. Wielding her sword deftly she accounts well for a woman with no battle skills. Slicing at hamstrings watching the victim drop and swiftly slicing open their throats. The earth is heaving under her feet and seems to be echoing her cries or so it seems in her heated brain. She feels as if she moves through a thick viscous liquid like time has altered for a brief amount of time. The memories of the battle are fresh and she fought well for a healer..but then she found him...dying on the blood soaked mud. She drops to her knees and cradles him, laying her body over his as if she could shield him with her body alone. Using her hair to wipe the gore from his face. Tracing the outline of his lips with her fingertips. She remembers an overpowering feeling of loss and helplessness. Screaming out her hatred and frustration as she is yanked away from him by her hair. Kicking and screaming she escapes for a second scrambling over the dead to reach him. Her nostrils filling with thick mud as her face is ground into the earth by someone's foot...hands clawing at the dead to reach her love coming only away with a fist full of the screaming earth. She is lifted from the floor by someone kicking at her stomach the air in her lungs whooshes out and she has no breath to scream her pain out.
Pinned to the floor arms out stretched she is tilted backwards so her head hangs near the floor...she can see her love pinioned between two men he is crying..she smiles as best she can trying to reassure him...her body may die but her soul wont..She howls with pain as they break first her arms and then her legs..Pinning her legs open wide....Her tongue is cut from her mouth and she starts to choke on her own blood filling her nose..blinded as it streams into her eyes but she still sees her love through the haze...as the violations of her most private places starts she is wrenched from her body....
The screams she hears are not her won...but they drift way as she floats somewhere warm for awhile..as if held by a warm ocean...comfort lapping at her senses... the she falls.
Once more she is on the battlefield her mind crazed with grief she no longer knows who or what she is but she feels grief, loss, pain...She stares around at the countless rotting corpses and wonders how long she has been here...She scans the area for any signs of life and screams out a name she doesn't recognise...She runs...getting nowhere fast...Wiping sweat and blood form her face she looks at her hands puzzled.. Finally she rests on the screaming bloodied earth and listen as it whispers its terrible secrets in her ear..she sobs....Why is she alone...She falls asleep with a vague feeling of someone watching her.... There is no more
Shadow Bound Love20:24 Dec 17 2005
Times Read: 587
He watched her silently, her face always showed every emotion she felt. He knows she is torn by her desire and her duty. He will follow her whatever choice she makes though. She is unaware he is here yet and hes is glad for that. She would argue and plead he return to the shadows.
She is his sun and his moon. He is her watcher, he is her protector always. Time and space will not hinder his gaze on her soul. He knows this to be a simple truth. Such is his love for her. She is needed by those below he knows this. they always need her, healing strength, love, compassion and understanding in their darkest hours. Yet in the midnight hours she turns to him. Yes he is her strength and her weakness, he takes pride in that. True he is shadow born and shadow bound but for her he can step outside those boundaries. Step out into the battle for her if needs be.
He laughs softly to himself at her battle cry. She has a warriors heart if not a warriors skills. He steps out lightly from the shadows and follows her his own battle cry lost in the heat of battle. His love for her is his down fall...stepping in front of a blade meant for her back he falls...not a death blow but he is downed. She falls on him weeping.... I will say no more.
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