07-17-2017, 10:49 PM
you can have my isolation,
you can have the hate that it brings.
you can have the hate that it brings.
It was over.
The love affair that had stirred a passionate emotion he long thought lost to him had come to an inevitable end, festering in the fervent, blistering flames of its demise. He had known it was coming for some time – his heart had not felt the same in so long, and he had been hesitant to admit it to himself, to admit it to her.
Since waking from the furtive nightmare that had been his undoing (he could still taste the metallic, bitter blood against his tongue – he could still feel his flesh bubbling and blistering under the scalding hot fire that had attempted to take his life), he hadn’t been the same. A scalding hot fire stirred within him, melting away the ice that had once been a part of him, and with it, he had become increasingly isolated – progressively more reserved, withdrawing into himself with a flickering ember that longed to consume him.
She had never known him, and he had never known her – the love she professed was built upon lie after lie, as was his own. Each had kept their own thoughts, their own needs close to their own heavily guarded hearts, and time had created an irreparable rift – a deep, impenetrable void. Neither had truly given any part of themselves to one another, and so the fragility of their love had faltered, with thick, inevitable fissures rising with every dawn that came and every dusk that went.
He had been unfaithful, seeking affection and attention elsewhere, and she had been untrue, fearful of him, recoiling at his very touch as the flickering flame slowly became a raging inferno. It stirred anger and wrath from the depths of his wretched, wayward soul, and he felt powerless to overcome it – not for months, but for years. The memories of his torture and torment had been too much, and she could not bear the burden of his pain, and he had not trusted her for so long with it – and when he finally had, it was too little, too late. The damage had been done, as the trust had whittled away to dust, and the devotion declared burned away into ash.
His heart ached, but he could not – he would not linger.
Faithlessness.
It had been their ruination.
He is stirred from his heavy, darkening thoughts by the echo of a familiar voice calling to him – he is loath to answer it, for the warmth of the bubbling magma oozing from the surface of the fertile soil is all the company that he is willing and able to withstand, but eventually, he wrenches himself away from the intense heat and into the heart of the volcanic isle. It is not long until his dark eyes settle upon the source - the fading sunlight is flush against the blood bay of his skin, and soon his own gaze is settled upon his as his thick, muscular legs carry him towards him –
– but he stops; stunned.
His heart, quiet and steady before, is racing now, thundering raggedly within the confinement of its cage.
Before him, a formation of the undead – five in total, consumed by varying degrees of decay, controlled by one singular, solitary force. His gaze flickers to each, and finally to Nymphetamine, uncertainty written across the rigid lines of his face – a shadow of darkness lingering in the hollow beneath each eye.
His explanation is concise, with humor laced with each word, and slowly, the hesitation fades away, and in place of his stoicism, a broad, faintly amused grin emerges – and with it, the burning flame he so often kept buried does too. Along the slope of his spine, a flickering ember rises, growing into a frenzied inferno as the melancholy he had felt mere moments ago waned, replaced with renewed energy.
With a surge of momentum, the fire traverses the length of his thick, muscular legs, coiling on the ground and whirling into a broad, spinning orb of blistering fire, growing with each passing moment and rising before him. The sheer, obscene light of it highlights the heavy scarring across his cheek and neck, but its core reflects the inferno flickering inside of his eyes, and by sheer will and might, and a toss of his neck, the expanding fireball implodes, breaking away into five individual orbs of crackling fire, hurling towards the skeletons lying in wait – demolishing each of them into little else but ash and dust.
And quietly, slowly, the embers sputter, before disappearing altogether.
”I did not realize you were so powerful, Nymphetamine.” he utters, glancing to him and observing him carefully, though soon the smile that had been present mere moments ago still tugs at the corner of his mouth. ”That was .. fun.”
The love affair that had stirred a passionate emotion he long thought lost to him had come to an inevitable end, festering in the fervent, blistering flames of its demise. He had known it was coming for some time – his heart had not felt the same in so long, and he had been hesitant to admit it to himself, to admit it to her.
Since waking from the furtive nightmare that had been his undoing (he could still taste the metallic, bitter blood against his tongue – he could still feel his flesh bubbling and blistering under the scalding hot fire that had attempted to take his life), he hadn’t been the same. A scalding hot fire stirred within him, melting away the ice that had once been a part of him, and with it, he had become increasingly isolated – progressively more reserved, withdrawing into himself with a flickering ember that longed to consume him.
She had never known him, and he had never known her – the love she professed was built upon lie after lie, as was his own. Each had kept their own thoughts, their own needs close to their own heavily guarded hearts, and time had created an irreparable rift – a deep, impenetrable void. Neither had truly given any part of themselves to one another, and so the fragility of their love had faltered, with thick, inevitable fissures rising with every dawn that came and every dusk that went.
He had been unfaithful, seeking affection and attention elsewhere, and she had been untrue, fearful of him, recoiling at his very touch as the flickering flame slowly became a raging inferno. It stirred anger and wrath from the depths of his wretched, wayward soul, and he felt powerless to overcome it – not for months, but for years. The memories of his torture and torment had been too much, and she could not bear the burden of his pain, and he had not trusted her for so long with it – and when he finally had, it was too little, too late. The damage had been done, as the trust had whittled away to dust, and the devotion declared burned away into ash.
His heart ached, but he could not – he would not linger.
Faithlessness.
It had been their ruination.
He is stirred from his heavy, darkening thoughts by the echo of a familiar voice calling to him – he is loath to answer it, for the warmth of the bubbling magma oozing from the surface of the fertile soil is all the company that he is willing and able to withstand, but eventually, he wrenches himself away from the intense heat and into the heart of the volcanic isle. It is not long until his dark eyes settle upon the source - the fading sunlight is flush against the blood bay of his skin, and soon his own gaze is settled upon his as his thick, muscular legs carry him towards him –
– but he stops; stunned.
His heart, quiet and steady before, is racing now, thundering raggedly within the confinement of its cage.
Before him, a formation of the undead – five in total, consumed by varying degrees of decay, controlled by one singular, solitary force. His gaze flickers to each, and finally to Nymphetamine, uncertainty written across the rigid lines of his face – a shadow of darkness lingering in the hollow beneath each eye.
His explanation is concise, with humor laced with each word, and slowly, the hesitation fades away, and in place of his stoicism, a broad, faintly amused grin emerges – and with it, the burning flame he so often kept buried does too. Along the slope of his spine, a flickering ember rises, growing into a frenzied inferno as the melancholy he had felt mere moments ago waned, replaced with renewed energy.
With a surge of momentum, the fire traverses the length of his thick, muscular legs, coiling on the ground and whirling into a broad, spinning orb of blistering fire, growing with each passing moment and rising before him. The sheer, obscene light of it highlights the heavy scarring across his cheek and neck, but its core reflects the inferno flickering inside of his eyes, and by sheer will and might, and a toss of his neck, the expanding fireball implodes, breaking away into five individual orbs of crackling fire, hurling towards the skeletons lying in wait – demolishing each of them into little else but ash and dust.
And quietly, slowly, the embers sputter, before disappearing altogether.
”I did not realize you were so powerful, Nymphetamine.” he utters, glancing to him and observing him carefully, though soon the smile that had been present mere moments ago still tugs at the corner of his mouth. ”That was .. fun.”
you can have my absence of faith,
you can have my everything.
you can have my everything.
OFFSPRING