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Jan 17, 2019 22:10:26 GMT
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blacknoise
I don't have kik.
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Aug 14, 2015 15:19:56 GMT
August 2015
blacknoise
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Post by blacknoise on Dec 18, 2015 19:02:06 GMT
The quiet, abrasive sound of chains rattling across stone filled the darkened streets of the Upper District. A crimson river flowed through the rainwater divot in the middle of the street. Hanging over the air like a blanket, a dense fog covered the city. Black whisps swiveled and swung through the fog. Like rabid snakes slithering through sand, hissing and biting all who stepped in their path, the whisps attacked and terrified anyone foolish enough to wander at this time of night.
A new moon sat high in the sky, but it went as unseen as a grasshopper in a field of green. Covered by the blackness of space on a starless night, it seemed even Noc feared this night. Magical streetlights flickered and extinguished as the sound of chains stopped. Replacing it, a low, eerie hum of a slow, previously unheard tune. The sad, wordless song crept it's way into homes and hearts, corrupting and worming in like roots through stone.
In the midst of it all, Timore stood alone. A cloak of crow feathers about his shoulders, the blonde monster hummed his disgusting tune. Slowly, black roots flowed through his skin like the trickling of a waterfall, and a single red poppy pulled itself through his hair to force a bloom. Looking out, the demon with the face of a man scanned the fog, looking and waiting.
Finally, the tune faded, and Timore called out. His voice was dark and raspy, holding a tone of pain and deep anger.
"Azalea, you honor me by your presence."
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Leb
The loneliest are the kindest. The saddest smile the brightest. The most damaged are the wisest.
223
August 2015
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Post by Leb on Dec 18, 2015 22:21:40 GMT
"And what business pray tell, do you have stalking about the streets tonight?" The distinguished placid tone of Azalea rang clearly yet echoed softly through the empty streets. Her small figure sauntered through the fog only to stop several feet away with arms crossed, visible enough to see the look of aversion upon her features.
"Unfortunately, I can't say the same with yours." She continued in reference to the honoring of presence.
She wasn't surprised to see the blonde figure draped in crow feathers. In fact, she had seen him plenty enough, and that bothered her. She kept her distance and held her stare, the antipathy she has for him evident in her eyes. What was the Lord of Fear trying to do to boldly gallivant through the Upper District of Etirath? What is he plotting, and more importantly, why do so without his shell.
She removed herself from her thoughts and focused on Timore once more. She glanced at the poppy in bloom, an angry glare against alabaster.
"I take it you've been well?"
Her implications may have been a jab at best but it's also the truth in its own right. For Timore to have come out into the open in such a display, why he might as well be taunting her. Of all the petty things..
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inherit
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Jan 17, 2019 22:10:26 GMT
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blacknoise
I don't have kik.
273
Aug 14, 2015 15:19:56 GMT
August 2015
blacknoise
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Post by blacknoise on Dec 19, 2015 1:58:09 GMT
"Testing my limits, so to speak..."
His tone kept it's darkness, his emotions churning through the hatred and the pain, flowing out into his voice. Inwardly, he screamed out his frustrations. 'I am murdering your people, slaughtering in the street your creation. Do you just not care?! Look at me! Look at me damnit! I'll tear everything away from you, I'll rip what you love away, nothing is safe from me. You are weak, WEAK. And now you'll see just how strong I am."
Breathing deeply, he gathered his composure and tossed aside his tantrum-like thoughts. Den was not here, the Divine of light, once more, dared not show his face to Timore. Nothing he did seemed to garner the attention of the Great Divine. No matter how many died, no matter what happened, he would never have the attention of the Prideful One. But now, as fissures of power ripped asunder his skin and burned the roots from his hands, Timore decided he didn't care.
Taking a single step forwards, he crooked his head up and looked down on the small, Lesser Divine. Incredibly calm, his voice slipped forth once more, and he spoke.
"No. I am in pain, Azalea. But not a pain of the flesh. This pain is deeper than even this curse which eats away at my flesh. With every breathe, I can feel a thousand moving roots pull and tear at my insides. Tirelessly, I work to heal the damage, but I cannot heal the source. Even this, however, is nothing."
Leaning in, Timore reached out a hand into the air. Black roots snapped and crackled as they struck out from beneath his skin, tearing once more at the newly mended flesh. Snapping his fingers, Timore watched as every door on the block immediately crashed open. Humanoid monsters pulled themselves through the openings. Their feet were that of monstrous crows, their twitching hands were webbed, fingers possessing sinister hook claws, and their faces were simply maws of teeth.
As the beings moved to encircle the pair, Timore spoke once more.
"Why don't you stick around, let's chat."
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#ea7ca1
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Jan 27, 2019 20:04:50 GMT
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Leb
The loneliest are the kindest. The saddest smile the brightest. The most damaged are the wisest.
223
August 2015
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Post by Leb on Dec 19, 2015 5:18:34 GMT
Nothing he says. Azalea didn't dwell on thoughts when he seemingly reached out to her. Naturally it threw her off and had her take an involuntary step back. His exposed flesh revealed the black roots tearing away at flesh and yet, not a single flinch like it was in fact nothing to him, just as he had said. With a snap of his fingers, there was a resounding smash of wooden doors flung open and slammed against stone walls.
Monstrous beasts with claws and teeth, sharper than any blade ever seen, had all gathered almost drawn to the two like a beacon of light in the pitch dark of the night. The creatures encircle the two leaving no opening for escape. There are far too many of them for her to handle alone anyways.
"Why don't you stick around, let's chat."
Chat, is it? If it was chit-chat that he was after in the first place.. She surmised the entire situation did in fact fit him to a T. The lengths he had gone for insignificant things in the past, the loathsome trifles and irksomely vexing-
"Alright," She sighed away the inner frustrations his presence tended to cause. "I suppose I could.. indulge you for the time-being."
In all manner of speaking, she would bide her time for now. Seeing him the way he was is quite unnerving and very much unsettling. And thusly she waited in patience not once taking her eyes off the fear mongrel.
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inherit
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Jan 17, 2019 22:10:26 GMT
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blacknoise
I don't have kik.
273
Aug 14, 2015 15:19:56 GMT
August 2015
blacknoise
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Post by blacknoise on Dec 20, 2015 1:54:46 GMT
Swiftly spreading across his face, the grin of a monster overtook Timore. Crossing his hands behind his back, Timore began walking, circling Azalea and speaking. His voice started to slip deeply, from a gravelly raspinh to a much clearer, almost seductive, intense sound.
"Do you know what you did to me? Do you even remember? For hundreds of years, uncountable days, and hours that seem to span eternity itself, I have been in pain. You, you did this to me. A seed, the culmination of all your malice and hatred, was thrust into my heart. It grows and pulsates, covering me with these, things, that rend and tear my flesh. They seek to eat me alive from the inside. This, this is nothing."
Timore stopped and turned to face Azalea. Directly in front of him, the small Divine of nature seemed just as mighty as the oaks of the forest outside Etirath's walls. Her deviant eyes, her leaf strewn hair, her gentle form, so strong but yet so beautiful. He stepped forward once, then again, and again. Each step towards Azalea slow and deliberate. Darkness ripped from every inch of his skin, power pulsated out and burned away the infecting roots, everything about the Lord of Fear screamed anger.
With each step, he spoke, poison dripping from his tongue and hatred spread on every word.
"But even this, your anger, your hatred, every ounce of your will that you dedicated to kill me, is nothing. Nothing! Nothing, in comparison to the pain I feel every day. The pain you caused me when we first met, the aching, burning, itching, cold fire in that rips asunder my very soul."
His fists slammed into the wall behind Azalea, trapping her near the monstrous being. Timore had moved, walking, aiming to force her to back into the wall. Now, the strong tree looked as small as the weakest sapling in the face of a fire whose shadow stretched longer than that of Noc's herself. Everything about the Godling infuriated Timore, her delicate hands, her soft skin, her sweet lips. Leaning in, the great, horrible monster finished speaking. His words hissed and crackled out like fire snapping at supple wood.
"The pain I feel every moment of every day, knowing that you are not mine."
"Azalea, I want you."
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#ea7ca1
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Jan 27, 2019 20:04:50 GMT
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Leb
The loneliest are the kindest. The saddest smile the brightest. The most damaged are the wisest.
223
August 2015
leb
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Post by Leb on Dec 20, 2015 5:51:28 GMT
She didn't like it one bit. The tone he used, the way he circled her, that beastly grin, all signs of concern for her. She dared not to move her body and instead stood rigidly, stiff as a board. Azalea half-turned keeping movement minimal while she kept him in her sight.
"Do you know what you did to me? Do you even remember? For hundreds of years, uncountable days, and hours that seem to span eternity itself, I have been in pain. You, you did this to me. A seed, the culmination of all your malice and hatred, was thrust into my heart. It grows and pulsates, covering me with these, things, that rend and tear my flesh. They seek to eat me alive from the inside. This, this is nothing."
Timore had suddenly stopped directly in front of her. Fierce eyes pierced her own laden with anger and something else she could not put a finger on. Step after step, he drew ever nearer to her. Slow and deliberate, calculated and even, each step that brought him closer was another involuntary step back for Azalea to keep distance. His body had become enveloped in darkness, the black vines disintegrate in the presence of his power. He spoke with malice and a bitter rage that only continued to grow with every word he nearly spat at her.
"But even this, your anger, your hatred, every ounce of your will that you dedicated to kill me, is nothing. Nothing! Nothing, in comparison to the pain I feel every day. The pain you caused me when we first met, the aching, burning, itching, cold fire in that rips asunder my very soul."
The moment her back had pressed against the cold stone wall, Azalea looked away, the fixed stare interrupted. Fists slammed into the wall behind her, wide eyed in shock and a sliver of a shudder had shivered down her spine. She came to a small realization, she had been cornered. Timore kept closing the distance in which Azalea was forced to press herself back against the piled slabs of stone.
He leaned in ever closer closing any gap between the two. Hissed words held no greater fear than the ones spoken to her in that instant.
"The pain I feel every moment of every day, knowing that you are not mine."
All vibrant color had been drained as her body formed layers of bark atop each other. Her hands that once pressed against the wall now balled into fists that shook gently with, was it fear? Or was it perhaps, determination? There was no way she would just let him have at her, not without putting up a struggle first that is.
"Azalea, I want you."
At the last spoken word, an explosion of limbs and branches had all sprouted from her back encircling her tiny frame before lashing out at him in order to throw him back and more importantly, give herself some space.
"There are many a things that we want in our life.."
She reached out to the Fear Lord with a single outstretched arm a look akin to pain flickered past her eyes betraying the stern frown she held.
"However, not everyone is entitled to such commodities."
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Jan 17, 2019 22:10:26 GMT
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blacknoise
I don't have kik.
273
Aug 14, 2015 15:19:56 GMT
August 2015
blacknoise
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Post by blacknoise on Dec 21, 2015 5:53:56 GMT
The heavy silence following Azalea's apparent rejection of Timore was thick enough to cut with a knife. He was clearly not expecting to be thrust back, and his rapidly healing body reflected that. Deep wounds and stronger lacerations covered his skin from where the roots tore at his flesh, but he seemed to not even notice the pain. His hands momentarily balled up into fists, seemingly with anger. However, they quickly relaxed.
The Lord of Fear gently pulled a hand up as the roots tore forth from beneath his skin once more. Running his hand through his hair, he burst out laughing. Uproarous, joyful, and totally uncharacteristic of the typically solemn and scheming monster. His laughter ripped through the monstrosities surrounding them, causing them to shudder and shake with their master.
Pulling the poppy from his own head, Timore took a gentle whiff of the flower and replied. His voice twisting into a dark nectar, sweet first before the bite. Despite his naturally sarcastic tonr, it seemed as though Timore was making a concentrated effort to sound sincere. Every word was slow, deliberate, and hard thought out.
"A, commodity? US that all you see yourself as, my dear Azalea? You are so much more, to me. You are the stars to my moon. You light my sight with beauty, and should you wish it then I'd blot out the very sun for you. You know my power, but do you know your own? Do you know how much greater you could be, we could be? Together?"
Timore took a step forward, anger rising in his voice now. He was trying, harder than he could ever imagine, to set aside his own selfish feelings. He wanted Azalea, but more than even his own want of her, he desired for her to seek him as he sought her. But selflessness was not in Timore's nature. How could he show something to Azalea that he was not?
"I don't want to force you to desire me, but I'll do anything for you. You can't say you don't feel anything for me. As you have infected me, I know I have infected you."
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#ea7ca1
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Jan 27, 2019 20:04:50 GMT
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Leb
The loneliest are the kindest. The saddest smile the brightest. The most damaged are the wisest.
223
August 2015
leb
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Post by Leb on Dec 23, 2015 8:04:59 GMT
He laughed. They laughed. She stared. She didn't understand why. But it just was.
He took the poppy that sprouted upon his head and inhaled its scent. What she could only describe his voice was sickeningly sweet enough to send her skin crawling. Despite his effort to sound sincere with every slow, deliberate, and hard thought out word all strewn together, she could never accept his sincerity. Never.
"A, commodity? Is that all you see yourself as, my dear Azalea? You are so much more, to me. You are the stars to my moon. You light my sight with beauty, and should you wish it then I'd blot out the very sun for you. You know my power, but do you know your own? Do you know how much greater you could be, we could be? Together?"
She shook her head from the thought of them being together. She could never, and yet a part of her did. No. It wasn't her. Was it? He stepped forward, voice raised in anger or was it more frustration? Was he seething? Or shaking? Why? Why does he act this way? Why won't he be the sarcastic contemptible brute that she had come to know him as? Why won't he let her hate him? WHY?
"I don't want to force you to desire me, but I'll do anything for you. You can't say you don't feel anything for me. As you have infected me, I know I have infected you."
That's right.. She infected him just as he infected her. Her blackened ichor, darkened from his taint. His "love", so-to-speak.
"You're right.. I can't say I don't feel anything."
Of course she'd feel something, but who's to say they were good feeling in the first place? Tiny fists balled at her sides as she continued to speak. Se couldn't keep them from shaking in her silent anger.
"But that does not mean they are feelings you hoped for."
And yet they were there. Feelings that cared and seek him. But she would never say such things. That wasn't her.
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inherit
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Jan 17, 2019 22:10:26 GMT
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blacknoise
I don't have kik.
273
Aug 14, 2015 15:19:56 GMT
August 2015
blacknoise
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Post by blacknoise on Jan 3, 2016 1:57:52 GMT
Something seemed to emerge from Timore, as Azalea spoke, something different, something almost, gentle. His voice became as a whisper, but drifted close enough to be heard in Azalea's ears. Timore's eyes reflected a picture of, almost helplessness. It was a feeling Timore did not often feel, it was something he had to allow himself to feel. For one so used to being in control, to being powerful, what he was about to say cracked him at his core. Slowly, he stretched forth his hand, and spoke.
"I don't know how to love, before I met you, I did not even know what it was like to desire another person. I felt nothing, for anyone. Even today, I feel so little. I would chain the moon and bring it down so that you might brush its gentle surface, if you would but ask that of me. But what does that mean? What does that change?
Once again, the embodiment of fear would take slow, deliberate steps towards Azalea. His power seemed to fade, as though he had tucked it away like a blinding light pulled behind a curtain. Making his was towards the small, viridescent woman, Timore once more burned away the roots that pulled through his skin. He could not stay out of his shell much longer, even as his deep blue flames burned through the roots, he could feel them thickening inside his body. He swallowed the pain, and continued speaking.
"I am filled with so much hate, and if you will not love me, if you can not, then don't."
Coming close, he reached out his hand, seeking the gentle skin of her cheeks.
"Then show me your hate filled lust."
Finally, he would come close to her, seeking to kiss her deeply. This was his final push, his last attempt. Either Azalea would accept him, or she would push him away. He would not stop her, he did not have the strength left to do so even if he wished it.
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#ea7ca1
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Jan 27, 2019 20:04:50 GMT
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Leb
The loneliest are the kindest. The saddest smile the brightest. The most damaged are the wisest.
223
August 2015
leb
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Post by Leb on Jan 10, 2016 7:01:49 GMT
A gentle silence was shared between the two for a few moments until Timore stretched a hand slowlyforth. He spoke quietly, tired. Possibly meekly? No. He is weakened from the roots that tear him from the inside out.
"I don't know how to love, before I met you, I did not even know what it was like to desire another person. I felt nothing, for anyone. Even today, I feel so little. I would chain the moon and bring it down so that you might brush its gentle surface, if you would but ask that of me. But what does that mean? What does that change?"
He could never love. He would never do such selfless acts. How could he? To go against his own nature is not like him at all. It's not like him at all... it's pitiful. He'll spiral downward forever at his rate, alone, desperate, going nowhere.
A pity.
"I am filled with so much hate, and if you will not love me, if you can not, then don't."
His hand brushed against her cheek as he neared closer. He held her there, rooting her down, and she let him. Was that acceptance on its own? Or was it simply because she took too long to react any other way?
"Then show me your hate filled lust."
If she had wanted to, she would have scoffed and laughed it away, the notion of it. But no such zeal awoke in her. Nothing but the aches of empathy and sympathy remained. She had taken pity on him, and in that moment of weakness, no resistance was met when desperation planted deeply upon her supple lips. All thoughts had ceased as Azalea was thrust into the stagnant world where time seems to not exist. And just as quickly as it came, it was gone.
"No! I will not!"
Thin hands met chest as she pushed him away with enough force to gain distance yet not to knock him down. She would not obey his demands, she would not be taken so lightly, swayed so easily.
"You ask of love and yet you still trifle with me."
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inherit
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Jan 17, 2019 22:10:26 GMT
4
blacknoise
I don't have kik.
273
Aug 14, 2015 15:19:56 GMT
August 2015
blacknoise
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Post by blacknoise on Jan 10, 2016 23:16:51 GMT
theme
For a moment, a single, brief moment, Timore felt something he had hadn't felt in a millenia. The world ceased to exist, time itself stopped, and a single spark lit up the coldness of his heart. Timore felt love. He loved Azalea, he felt as though he'd do anything for her, even change who he-
"No! I will not!"
And it was gone. The world came crashing back, and reality hit Timore over the head harder than a ton of bricks. Suddenly, Timore's illusions were washed away, and every quiet dream of happiness was ground into dust. A voice cried from the bottom of his heart, but it was smothered by the hatred that rose up. Surging forth, another voice screamed into his ears, overtaking his thoughts. What were you thinking? What hope did you really have? How did you think this would end? Who are you?!
You are Timore, Lord of Fear.
And you will never be anything more.
Once more, the little voice pushed up from his heart, but he pushed it back. His hatred had control now. Like an old lover whose caress brought him back to times before, his anger struck his mind repeatedly, reminding him of his place. Azalea's taste lingered on his lips, reminding him of what he would never have, and with that fueling him, Timore attacked.
In an instant, his shell was once more upon him. Sounding as if ten thousand spears rattled and smacked against each other, the Lord of Fear's form of faceless grey once more overtook him. Striking forth, he sought to drive his hand directly towards Azalea's heart. This act was not intended to kill, no, rather it sought to get just close enough to grip the beating orgam and prevent the lesser Divine from escaping without ripping her own body in half and losing her heart.
As his right hand snapped and attacked, his left hand reached up and gripped the side of Timore's own head. He spoke, his voice no longer sounding kind nor human, rather it called out like a thousand muted screams.
"I showed you my deepest feelings, I would have given you anything, I would have done anything you ask. Yet still, you deflect me, reject me, you PITY ME. I DON'T NEED YOUR PITY!"
Digging and clawing deeply through the shell and into his own skin, Timore scratched his left eye out and drenched his hand in his own bitter, black blood. Dragging his hand out, he slowly stretched forth, long, claw-like nails seeking Azalea's eyes. Without hesitation, he would slowly drive his fingernails into Azalea's eyes. Rage overtaking him, his hands trembling as they clawed her eyes and held her heart, he screamed.
"If you will not love me, then HATE ME! Hate me for all eternity! For I am the monster who will make your life a living hell! Lament! Lament, Azalea, and see the world through my eyes!"
As soon as he had begun, he stopped. Raking his claws from the green woman and casting her aside, Timore disappeared in a cloud of smoke. In an instant, the smoke was gone, the night sky revealed itself, the monsters were nowhere to be seen, it was as if no one had ever been there. A crack of thunder and a few small, quiet raindroplets began pittering onto the cobblestone streets.
And Azalea was alone.
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#ea7ca1
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Jan 27, 2019 20:04:50 GMT
3
Leb
The loneliest are the kindest. The saddest smile the brightest. The most damaged are the wisest.
223
August 2015
leb
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Post by Leb on Jan 14, 2016 5:04:03 GMT
Was it wrong to pity him? Was it wrong to think he deserved her pity, even if it was for a moment? Was it her fault? Was it fate for this to happen? She asked herself these questions as the familiar shell enshrouded Timore. Her eyes widened as she heard the familiar dull thunk before she even felt it. She didn't even need to look away from Timore to see that he had struck his clawed hand deep into her chest. She could feel his long fingers find their mark as they wrapped around her pulsating core's seed. The pain that followed was agonizing but unlike before, the pain did not fade. It only lingered and drove her mad as the pain slowly drove her into silent tears. And throughout it all, she refused to show him the hate he desired. All that was left in her was pity, a pity for the Lord of Fear who will never learn what it means to love and be loved in return. For his nature, his very existence would never allow for such notions.
He reached and gripped the side of his own head as if he was suffering from a severe migraine of sorts and spoke with a tone she couldn't grasp. She wasn't used to this, this side of him, she doesn't know him. "I showed you my deepest feelings, I would have given you anything, I would have done anything you ask. Yet still, you deflect me, reject me, you PITY ME. I DON'T NEED YOUR PITY!"
Did she cause for this to happen? How could it have been any other way? There was no other way, not his way. It would never have gone his way. Because she cannot love the bane of her hatred, the scourge of her existence. And yet there was something within her that dared think otherwise. She refused the idea to enter, blamed the surging pain for such head-splitting notions. And without her even realizing the added burning pain had been caused by his cursed bloodied hand as he slowly drove his fingernails first into her eyes. With savage rage that seemed to possess him, he trembled as he gouged her eyes out, his black blood intermingling with her falling tears upon her cheeks. With his hand fixed tight around her core, he roared with visceral feelings that spilled forth."If you will not love me, then HATE ME! Hate me for all eternity! For I am the monster who will make your life a living hell! Lament! Lament, Azalea, and see the world through my eyes!" The moment he casted her away as if she were trash itself, the street lit up in a pale white glow. Timore had already gone as the crack of thunder resounded not long after the white flash that decorated the gloomy sky. Droplets of rain pitter-pattered onto the cobblestone streets and pelted against the paled green skin of Azalea's lying body. Hollowed eyes stared blankly into the darkened sky, the rain did little to remove the black ichor from her face and instead slipped away as empty tears. Her chest laid bare with a gaping hole wide enough to fit her own head, and in the center of it connected by many vine like tendons was a cracked, small, round, marble-sized shell, it glowed faintly within the cavity.
She was alone.
And the dark world consumed her.
[Completed]
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