Bardiel
Bourgeois
Outlands Wanderer
Posts: 147
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Post by Bardiel on May 29, 2013 7:28:24 GMT -6
“It depends on me?” Bardiel jitters as one of his arms are liberated “I’m not strictly the most dependable pigeon in the coop. No wait, I remember!” he cries out in surprise, grabbing Sancti by the shoulders.
“You’re my heart. That’s what you are.” The fallen lets out an audible sigh of relief, before his face hardens and his tone turns strict. “Now mark me you fickle organ; Up till now you’ve done a lousy job of pumping blood around my body. But learn how to be loved properly… and, err…also how to be free. Most importantly, under no circumstances are you to break. Not ever.” Something like iron in his voice booked no room for reproach, but whatever it might have been was quickly broken.
“As for why your guts want to fall out…” the mad fallen smiles. “It’s simple; they know that the longer you fly away from your problems. The longer you stay at those breathtaking altitudes. The more you end up shitting on the people beneath you.”
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Post by Hallow Sancti on Jun 13, 2013 22:39:47 GMT -6
She gives a small uncertain smile and puts a chain wrapped hand on his chest over the crucifix, insulated from it's holiness by the thick links binding them together. "You have to keep me safe if you don't want me to break...." Sancti leans her head against his shoulder and closes her eyes. She shifts so her arms are around Bardiel's neck and she's as comfortable as she can be, still tangled in yards of chain. "Master, I'm tired of the darkness. Make it go away now."
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Bardiel
Bourgeois
Outlands Wanderer
Posts: 147
|
Post by Bardiel on Jun 15, 2013 8:10:25 GMT -6
“I promise,” he lied with eyes raw and dry as bloodied sand. It was above them now, but he didn’t know for sure if the she could see. Like a puppets they hung from ghostly threads, which stitched each of their joints in a marriage of gristle and sinew and skin. The thing held these strings, licking its creamy fingertips of cake.
He didn’t turn to see, but Bardiel knew it loomed behind him like a motley shadow of impossible colours that bled noxiously into the darkness. Like a child’s drawing, cruel as only a child can be, a crude approximation of an angel scratched over the Abyss with broken fingernails, mouth open and face ugly in its innocence. Rivers of puss flooded passed its lips and through Bardiel’s hair as spidery arms reeled them eagerly toward the titan thing’s drooling mouth.
“Once upon a time,” the fallen began, his voice fluttering like a caged bird. “There was a princess in a castle. She lived with her mother and father, the Queen and King. Although her every wish was fulfilled and despite being loved by all, she could not be happy. For she had never been outside the castle walls and longed to go.” Almost delicately, a soft ropey tongue picks the chained pair up as sheets of euphotic light kiss their faces.
“One night she sneaks out of bed and makes her way to the castle gates. Slipping through them the princess vanishes with a scream. Because she didn’t know that in this story…” Bardiel has to scream to be heard over the thousands of voices, weeping in protest, as the Crucifix of Servitude and the Gatekeepers chain pull against the membrane between Hell and the Void.
“NOTHING EXISTIS OUTSIDE THE CASTLE!”
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