Drakkoniss
Creative!
Constructive!
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You seem rather Christmas-y, of late. (here comes the creepier)
*stands still, and drops the axe, cupping his hands together*
*closes his eyes, concentrating, and then opens them, and the sunglasses crack apart and the shards fly in every direction*
*stares at Thursday with eyes of darkness and glowing red flame of a similar color*
*a dome of crackling energy opens up around them, and shifts; The world shifts with it, and all within the dome are ripped apart, streams of their essence going in all directions, untill they are consumed*
*the world seems to solidify, but it is different... darker; It is thousands of shades of darkness, somehow visible by means beyond the comprehension of the target of the actions: Thursday, the Red Knight*
*falling... always falling ripped apart by claws and tendrils for the longest time, time incomprehensible; Ages? Seconds? He couldn't say, and wouldn't have tried*
*stillness, his body finally at rest; Words, coming from places unseen, voices, hundreds of them, all delivering the message in a different way, but it was the same: "This world is mine. You know no power here, save what you are allowed. Time is ours to command, space is meaningless."*
*his limbs could not move; Tied to something, something burning, filling him with pain; They were ripped from him, and with them, his personas seperated, each to feel a different torture*
*Battle of the longest sort, energy drained from them to the point that one might faint, but he did not- his essence slowly faded, and then reformed, rent apart the next second, the process continuing*
*sensations understandable and not, not remembered, and not felt in ages; Loves of the past, deaths felt, guilt emparted; It was his fault; He was convinced, and so it continued, every person he ever felt any care for, ripped away, over and over; Pain and misery; Joy and sorrow; fun and boredom; They continued and ate at him*
*joys of all sort, victory of every imagining, continuing on and on in aching and brutal malice, to the point that he loathed to feel anything possitive, and yet it continued, and then came again the negative, pressing upon him, at first a relief, and then a retched reminder of how great he had had it in the past; On and on; Cycles of torment and elation, continuous*
*control; Control over everything but that which really mattered; The real world forgotten, the one he lays within the bounds of lost; All that he'd want, given to him; Every challenge that came up a new one, great in its entirety, but all of it empty, affable as the life might be, sorrow and a wish for something something at all different enveloped him, and yet it went on... and on... and on... against his will, try as he might to end it; He could check out any time he liked, but he could never leave, his victories pain, and his detriment his aching wish*
*so it continued, ages upon ages, for a time, times, and half a time, one might say, were they to try to add humor to the deprevity of it, untill at last, it ended, unexpected in its entirety, the real world having been forgotten, thought a thing of the past, or beyond memory, an illusion of what might have been*
*the shadow world faded, and they swirreled back to right where they were in the genesis of it all, the shell of what Thursday had been, with all of his personas and their pain returned to one body, screaming at the top of his lungs, his entire concept of existance shattered, his mind alight, all after no more than a second*
(wonder if *I* offended anyone, there...)
< Message edited by Drakkoniss -- 3/13/2012 21:01:21 >
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