Feb 17, 2019 14:22:30 GMT -6
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[attr="class","sixShtiny"]838 WORDS
for OPEN [break]
The previous person can't use it, so here.
for OPEN [break]
The previous person can't use it, so here.
[attr="class","sixShlyric"]
can't run from me
can't run from me
[attr="class","sixShcred"]SELKIE
[attr="class","sixShright"]
[attr="class","sixShly"]
bang, bang, bang, you better pray
bang, bang, bang, you better pray
[attr="class","sixShpost"]
Sunlight stretched across the snowy fields in front of the Ivory Fortress, an Assembly of Phantoms base hidden near the infamous Aria Village. Through the thick birch trees, perched on a steady, albeit, an ancient stone foundation, however, it was the well-maintained historical landmark which served for the purpose of bringing forth the revolution. Admittedly, Wren cared little about the success of Zeredah's plans, instead admiring the permission to murder those associated with the TRS. The organization had accomplished nothing against the golem personally, but the psychopath enjoyed the ability to kill others.
[break][break]
A warmth was embracing the earth, an uncommon trait for late winter in the northern continent. Merrily, the schizophrenic skipped through the cold snow, evidently not affected by the cold weather conditions. Gleeful giggles escaped his lips as he ventured towards the Ivory Fortress, his hallucinations painting an entirely different scene. The fortress was perched on a hill, red lighting painting it against a darkened canvas as the dark brick with red accents covered the building, a complete contrast from the pleasant Sunday afternoon and dull grey tiles.
[break][break]
In reality, Ivory Fortress was placed on an expanse of flat land amidst the Ivory Woods, standing as a landmark of guidance for those travelling through these mysterious lands. The towers of the fortress easily breached across the treeline, the dull bricks contrasting against the blue skies and bright whites of winter. Around it, snow shimmered as sun gleamed across the flat surface; everything appeared to be a perfect winter day. The psychopath proceeded forward, accomplishing some strange movements, as though following a nonexistent path.
[break][break]
The hallucinations displayed to him a stone path, different from the impacted snow path created from other Assembly members entering the Ivory Fortress; Wren thought they were foolish for using it, obviously, the twisty stone path had to be the correct method of entry. The guards stationed at the gates refused to correct the mentally ill man, already aware of Wren's sadistic and generally destructive tendencies; they were correct to avoid such an altercation. Recently, the golem had returned from a gruesome mission, his happiness manifesting from a successful murdering which would please his creator and perhaps even Matt.
[break][break]
Centuries of being a soldier proved to never bore the serial killer, Wren enjoying every opportunity he possessed to complete his assassination attempts on others. As he skipped closer to the fortress, the guards were taken aback by the evident blood still touching his clothing and knotted hair from accomplishing a particularly difficult mission. There remained a broad, toothy grin on the golem's face alongside delight in his green eyes as he neared the door. Naturally, Wren was granted entry to the fortress as he pulled the heavy wooden doors open and crossed through the threshold.
[break][break]
Inside, the hallucinations were never constant as Wren "saw" orange tabby cats with wings while various colours of butterflies crowded the halls; none with crystal wings, a shame considering their rarity, although, Wren found they were liars anyways. There was a radio on, relaying information from a well-known news channel, the strange man in the box speaking about the recent terror attacks and increased violence. The news anchor possessed a male voice, the diction of his words making it evident he thought ill of the recent affairs.
[break][break]
There was certainly nothing wrong with death and violence, they were merely natural occurrences of life from what Wren knew. Everybody was bound to die, the young schizophrenic already meeting his end years ago, although, under what circumstances he could never recall. Oftentimes, he merely fabricated a ridiculous story based around his own delusions on how his death occurred, the story changing with each retelling of the information. There would never be a solid narrative unless perhaps a day arrived where his memories returned or the answers arrived on the tongues of these flying tabby cats.
[break][break]
Unfortunately, the tabby cats were more concerned about praising him for the success of another assassination; they were always filled with complimentary words. Carefully, Wren's fingers weaved through his hair, discovering a plethora of knots, which displeased him immensely; he despised when his hair would get messy. The golem spent only a brief time in the lobby, striding forward, green eyes searching for a brush or comb to fix the mangled mess of white hair. Where was the wonderful repairman when he required a good hair brushing?
[break][break]
Constantly, Wren's eyes flitted around the facility, passing his fellow Assembly of Phantoms members, hoping he could discover somebody with a brush or comb to assist with taming the tangled mess; he feared his hair would transform into frightful snakes should he fail to provide proper care. There was a minor fidget to his hands, the golem desiring the nostalgic feeling of a comb or brush running through his hair. Should desperation become an issue, he could easily retrieve one from the home he shared with Matt, but Wren was required to provide his report; despite how confusing it would become with the addition of his hallucinations.
Sunlight stretched across the snowy fields in front of the Ivory Fortress, an Assembly of Phantoms base hidden near the infamous Aria Village. Through the thick birch trees, perched on a steady, albeit, an ancient stone foundation, however, it was the well-maintained historical landmark which served for the purpose of bringing forth the revolution. Admittedly, Wren cared little about the success of Zeredah's plans, instead admiring the permission to murder those associated with the TRS. The organization had accomplished nothing against the golem personally, but the psychopath enjoyed the ability to kill others.
[break][break]
A warmth was embracing the earth, an uncommon trait for late winter in the northern continent. Merrily, the schizophrenic skipped through the cold snow, evidently not affected by the cold weather conditions. Gleeful giggles escaped his lips as he ventured towards the Ivory Fortress, his hallucinations painting an entirely different scene. The fortress was perched on a hill, red lighting painting it against a darkened canvas as the dark brick with red accents covered the building, a complete contrast from the pleasant Sunday afternoon and dull grey tiles.
[break][break]
In reality, Ivory Fortress was placed on an expanse of flat land amidst the Ivory Woods, standing as a landmark of guidance for those travelling through these mysterious lands. The towers of the fortress easily breached across the treeline, the dull bricks contrasting against the blue skies and bright whites of winter. Around it, snow shimmered as sun gleamed across the flat surface; everything appeared to be a perfect winter day. The psychopath proceeded forward, accomplishing some strange movements, as though following a nonexistent path.
[break][break]
The hallucinations displayed to him a stone path, different from the impacted snow path created from other Assembly members entering the Ivory Fortress; Wren thought they were foolish for using it, obviously, the twisty stone path had to be the correct method of entry. The guards stationed at the gates refused to correct the mentally ill man, already aware of Wren's sadistic and generally destructive tendencies; they were correct to avoid such an altercation. Recently, the golem had returned from a gruesome mission, his happiness manifesting from a successful murdering which would please his creator and perhaps even Matt.
[break][break]
Centuries of being a soldier proved to never bore the serial killer, Wren enjoying every opportunity he possessed to complete his assassination attempts on others. As he skipped closer to the fortress, the guards were taken aback by the evident blood still touching his clothing and knotted hair from accomplishing a particularly difficult mission. There remained a broad, toothy grin on the golem's face alongside delight in his green eyes as he neared the door. Naturally, Wren was granted entry to the fortress as he pulled the heavy wooden doors open and crossed through the threshold.
[break][break]
Inside, the hallucinations were never constant as Wren "saw" orange tabby cats with wings while various colours of butterflies crowded the halls; none with crystal wings, a shame considering their rarity, although, Wren found they were liars anyways. There was a radio on, relaying information from a well-known news channel, the strange man in the box speaking about the recent terror attacks and increased violence. The news anchor possessed a male voice, the diction of his words making it evident he thought ill of the recent affairs.
[break][break]
There was certainly nothing wrong with death and violence, they were merely natural occurrences of life from what Wren knew. Everybody was bound to die, the young schizophrenic already meeting his end years ago, although, under what circumstances he could never recall. Oftentimes, he merely fabricated a ridiculous story based around his own delusions on how his death occurred, the story changing with each retelling of the information. There would never be a solid narrative unless perhaps a day arrived where his memories returned or the answers arrived on the tongues of these flying tabby cats.
[break][break]
Unfortunately, the tabby cats were more concerned about praising him for the success of another assassination; they were always filled with complimentary words. Carefully, Wren's fingers weaved through his hair, discovering a plethora of knots, which displeased him immensely; he despised when his hair would get messy. The golem spent only a brief time in the lobby, striding forward, green eyes searching for a brush or comb to fix the mangled mess of white hair. Where was the wonderful repairman when he required a good hair brushing?
[break][break]
Constantly, Wren's eyes flitted around the facility, passing his fellow Assembly of Phantoms members, hoping he could discover somebody with a brush or comb to assist with taming the tangled mess; he feared his hair would transform into frightful snakes should he fail to provide proper care. There was a minor fidget to his hands, the golem desiring the nostalgic feeling of a comb or brush running through his hair. Should desperation become an issue, he could easily retrieve one from the home he shared with Matt, but Wren was required to provide his report; despite how confusing it would become with the addition of his hallucinations.
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bang, bang, bang, another one placed in a grave
bang, bang, bang, another one placed in a grave
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