10-04-2017, 03:37 PM
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Mate+SC|Megrim|Parisienne|Jaldi" rel="stylesheet"><center><div style="width: 500px; padding-top:5px;padding-bottom: 5px; position:relative; box-shadow: 0 0 20px #000;border: 1px solid #000; background: #db554d url('https://i.imgur.com/TtpqEvC.png') top center no-repeat;border-radius: 300px 300px 0 0;"><div style="background: url('https://i.imgur.com/TtpqEvC.png'); background-position: top; background-repeat: no-repeat;width: 490px; position:relative; box-shadow: 0 0 20px #000;border: 1px solid #000; background-color:#000;border-radius: 300px 300px 0 0;"><div style="font-family: 'Parisienne', cursive; font-size: 60px; color: #6c787a; margin-top: 300px;padding-bottom: 140px;padding-left: 320px;align:center; opacity: 0.6; text-shadow: 1px 1px 5px #9b3c3c, 0 0 10px #000, 0 0 10px #000;">Ellyse</div><div style="width: 450px;margin-top: -130px; box-shadow: 0 0 20px #000;border-top: 5px solid #db554d;border-radius: 30px 30px 0 0;border-left: 2px solid #db554d;border-right: 2px solid #db554d;padding: 10px; text-align:justify; font:12px 'Times', serif; color:#9aa1a2;background-color: #24282b; opacity: .7; line-height:135%;"><div style="font-family: 'Jaldi', serif; color: #f06f61; font-size: 12px;text-transform:uppercase; text-align: center;line-height: 10pt; letter-spacing: .5px; text-shadow: .5px 0px 20px #000, 0 0 10px #db554d;padding-bottom: 5px;">Don't try to stop me now, don't you make a sound. <br>You've built yourself up oh so high just to tear me down.</div>She can no longer feel the ache behind her hip where teeth and claws had dug into her supple flesh – she can no longer feel the pulsating of her blood pouring from her empty, sullen eye socket, for a clot has finally formed, and though it is stiffened and sore from the absence, she cannot tell it apart from the numbness of her mind. She is coiled up, with a battered wing draped over her side with the once pristine feathers (<i>now tainted, unkempt</i>) outstretched to keep her seeping wounds from prying eyes. Her heart is heavy and sordid inside of her chest, and she cannot suppress the bitterness rising inside of her throat like an acrid bile – why had he not taken her heart, instead?
Why had he not taken what she no longer had a use for?
Cold, callous, bleeding and broken –
Ledger had cast her away, with accusation and supposition made. He had no faith in her, in <i>them</i>, and so it is just as well that he has shattered her heart – like father, like son.
(<i>would she leave him to die if given the chance, as he had done to her?</i>)
Dahmer – she cannot bear to think of him; of what might have happened to him –
Had he been thrust into a world of fickle fantasy as she had? Was he once more bound to the steel and iron cage that she was? She does not look for him – she cannot hear beyond the stifling, suffocation of her own angry, sorrowful thoughts echoing loudly in her own mind – her one eye is closed tightly, sheathing her from the darkness and from what might lay before her outside of her confinement.
The imagery of her children, wandering and forlorn – searching for their mother, for their fathers, for an eternity – it does haunt her. She can only hope that Dahmer had found a way to escape; that he had found a way to run. She can only hope that Carnage has taken from Ledger what she would, if given the power, if given the opportunity - <i>she would tear his bleeding, pathetically beating heart right out of his chest</i>.
Her children held what fragmented pieces of her broken heart remain – the rest no longer mattered.
Her quiet reverie of simmering fury is interrupted by the heavy clang of metal releasing metal, grinding across a too-worn, rusted and corroded track – slowly, the passageway of her enclosure is drawn back, and the cold had already begun to creep in, crawling across the grime and grit of the cobblestone that lay beneath her. It envelopes her, sending a shiver traversing the length of her coiled spine, stirring the filthy and soiled feathers that lay across her battered wing into a bristling frenzy. She can sense the presence of another, but the darkness is too much for her single eye and her aching, empty eye socket to bear.
<I>“To escape,”</i> he says, <i>“you must destroy the thing you love.”</i>
There is nothing else. She cannot hear him – only the echo of what was, of his humor-laced voice, wry and wicked, reverberating off unseen, invisible barriers that keep her barred in. Caged in, like a wild and rabid animal – no longer is she an animal of prey; her anger is raw and <i>hot</i> and unyielding, and she’d stop at nothing to tear the flesh out from his neck, to silence him, teeth of prey be damned.
<i>Love</i>, over and over, it echoes, and her mind imagines Ledger standing before her, bleeding and broken, and in her blind fury and heaving, devastating ache, she might. She might destroy him, take the tender marrow of his bones and crush them beneath her weight, pin him to the dark and unforgiving ground with an array of long, coiling spikes wrought from the bones of her own body. She might collapse against him, feeble and <i>weak</i> - no, never weak; she loathed the thought of it and the heartache is swallowed by the white-hot rage surging within her veins. She would never allow herself to be so vulnerable again – he had taken her heart, tender and fragile, and he had <i>decimated</i> it, handing the brittle ashen remains of it to her and left her to <i>die</i>.
Slowly, carefully, she rises – standing at last, her chest broad and her stance wide, as each wing flexes to the side, poised for violence; yearning to be <i>freed</i> from her imprisonment, to nourish and nurture her son and daughter who had been born of <i>lust</i> and nothing more (<i>she can see the error of her way; she had always known there was nothing of her to love – she had been a fool to think otherwise</i>. Quietly, the eerie darkness is stirred by movement, and what lay before her is enough to steal the air from her lungs, and nearly cause her weary and worn legs to buckle beneath the burden of truth.
One leg, then two – then three, and four, and <i>five</i> - <b>six</b> legs emerge from the shadow, seamlessly moving toward her with grace befitting a creature of flight. Coiled upon his spine are paper-thin, intricately designed wings, allowing each one to shield his flank with their thick but nonetheless fragile chitlin. Along the slender slope of his neck lay bare skin, paler than her own, trailing up to his gaping ear-holes and the long, curling feathered antennae perched above his brow, where large, glimmering compound eyes lay – glistening, glaring in the sudden and obtrusive light shining down from above. His face is gaunt (<i>as slender as she remembered in her youth – deeply dished, where her pale lips had long ago brushed its final kiss – a goodbye she had never intended to be </i>forever).
<i>Elysium</i>. Her father, her heart.
A deep, shaking sob has begun to wrack her body, as the salty brine of her own tears begin to fall from her single, bleary eye, standing the gilded surface of her cheek. <b>”Daddy,”</b> she whispers, the once lost child emerging from within, trembling and uncertain as her warm breath reaches for his own, to feel him, to envelope herself in his warmth – but she cannot, she will not, and as his own mouth brushes across the bridge of her nose, her nostrils flare to wrap herself within his familiar scent.
<font color="#f06f61"><b>”Ellyse,”</b></font> he murmurs softly, <font color="#f06f61"><b>”you have become such a disappointment – I hoped for so much more from you,”</b></font> and she is crushed, her heart shattering tenfold within the tightness of her chest, while the blood roils furiously inside of her veins, flooding her with adrenaline and a tremor of disbelief.
<font color="#f06f61"><b>”You don’t mean that,”</b></font> she whispers, turning her cheek away to hide what is bare and raw and <i>gone</i>, with little else but a gaping wound to show for what has been taken from her.
<font color="#f06f61"><b>”I do,”</b></font> he urges, as his proboscis slowly emerges from between his pale, withdrawn lips, caressing her muzzle and drawing her back into the light, where the fragmented pieces of his vision can see what lay where beauty had once been – now broken, bleeding – a shadow of what she had once been. <font color="#f06f61"><b>”you were meant for so much, for power, for presence, and you let a fickle heart stand in your way. Have I taught you nothing?”</b></font>
<i>Never underestimate your strength, never overestimate your weakness.</i>
And she had!
Oh, she <i>had</i> - her heart, her weak and pathetic heart had been her downfall.
She had failed him; she had failed herself –
<font color="#f06f61"><b>”- what do I do?”</b></font> she breathes, the polarity of her aching, broken heart becoming numb, as the sheer weight of his disappointment is settled between the weary bones of her shoulders.
<font color="#f06f61"><b>"Show me that you are <i>more</i> than what you have become – prove to me that you are not the weak and faltering thing that is standing before me.”</b></font>
<i>How</i>, she does not ask – a tendril has found its way into her mind, whispering softly, <i>you must destroy the thing you love</i>.
<i>Destroy,</i> the insidious voice echoes – it echoes, and it echoes! – and the anger and the <i>resentment</i> and the sorrow and despair return to her at once, seeping from her pores, fueling her with vehemence and vengeance and a longing to <i>be</i>. <i>Show me</i>, he urges - <i>destroy</i>, says the other – <i>escape, escape -</i> her daughters, her sons – she had to escape.
A guttural cry emerges from her throat, as her neck sharply lurches to the left before, being thrown toward the tender column of her father’s neck as her forelegs rise with the sheer force of her body making impact with his own, knocking him against the iron bars and causing his four forelegs and two hind legs to buckle beneath him. Stunned, the complexity of his compound vision is unblinking but struggling to focus upon her, blearily looking up to the vision of rage and light looming over him.
(<i>destroy, destroy, destroy</i>)
(<i>disappointment</i>)
(<i>show me</i>)
(<i>prove to me</i>)
(<i>weak, <b>destroy</b></i>)
<font color="#f06f61"><b>”Ellyse, I –“</b></font>
<font color="#f06f61"><b>”I –“</b></font> she growls, rearing up and crushing her weight onto his brittle and fragile shoulder, as the delicate chitlin of his wingspan is left crumbling and falling away to dust, as a cry of anguish echoes into the darkness. <font color="#f06f61"><b>”- AM –“</b></font> she snarls, rising again to urge her adrenaline-laced energy into his skull, pressing against the fragile bone of his eye socket, puncturing his eye and crushing the bone beneath. <font color="#f06f61"><b>”<i>ENOUGH!</I>”</b></font> she bellows, pounding, stomping, <i>slaughtering</i> her kin beneath her rage, as her lungs fill with the ashy stench of death and the dampness of spilled blood, as her lifeless father lay before her.
As the hatred and the fanning flame of anger slowly dissipates, it is so filled with grief, brim to brim and leaving her eyes hot and stinging with unshed tears. She does not cry for him – she does not mourn her loss; her dying heart lay barely beating inside of its iron cage as she does, too, before lunging toward the light promised to her in return.
<i>Nothing would stand in her way.</i><div style="font-family: 'Jaldi', serif; color: #f06f61; font-size: 12px;text-transform:uppercase; text-align: center;line-height: 10pt; letter-spacing: .5px; text-shadow: .5px 0px 20px #000, 0 0 10px #db554d;padding-top: 10px;">I'm not going to change, so stay out of my way.<br> I don't need you to understand that I'm already saved</div></div></div></div></center>
Elly's father, Elysium, looks like this: <img src="https://s1.postimg.org/1fdz9ijmun/avatar_1171.png">
Why had he not taken what she no longer had a use for?
Cold, callous, bleeding and broken –
Ledger had cast her away, with accusation and supposition made. He had no faith in her, in <i>them</i>, and so it is just as well that he has shattered her heart – like father, like son.
(<i>would she leave him to die if given the chance, as he had done to her?</i>)
Dahmer – she cannot bear to think of him; of what might have happened to him –
Had he been thrust into a world of fickle fantasy as she had? Was he once more bound to the steel and iron cage that she was? She does not look for him – she cannot hear beyond the stifling, suffocation of her own angry, sorrowful thoughts echoing loudly in her own mind – her one eye is closed tightly, sheathing her from the darkness and from what might lay before her outside of her confinement.
The imagery of her children, wandering and forlorn – searching for their mother, for their fathers, for an eternity – it does haunt her. She can only hope that Dahmer had found a way to escape; that he had found a way to run. She can only hope that Carnage has taken from Ledger what she would, if given the power, if given the opportunity - <i>she would tear his bleeding, pathetically beating heart right out of his chest</i>.
Her children held what fragmented pieces of her broken heart remain – the rest no longer mattered.
Her quiet reverie of simmering fury is interrupted by the heavy clang of metal releasing metal, grinding across a too-worn, rusted and corroded track – slowly, the passageway of her enclosure is drawn back, and the cold had already begun to creep in, crawling across the grime and grit of the cobblestone that lay beneath her. It envelopes her, sending a shiver traversing the length of her coiled spine, stirring the filthy and soiled feathers that lay across her battered wing into a bristling frenzy. She can sense the presence of another, but the darkness is too much for her single eye and her aching, empty eye socket to bear.
<I>“To escape,”</i> he says, <i>“you must destroy the thing you love.”</i>
There is nothing else. She cannot hear him – only the echo of what was, of his humor-laced voice, wry and wicked, reverberating off unseen, invisible barriers that keep her barred in. Caged in, like a wild and rabid animal – no longer is she an animal of prey; her anger is raw and <i>hot</i> and unyielding, and she’d stop at nothing to tear the flesh out from his neck, to silence him, teeth of prey be damned.
<i>Love</i>, over and over, it echoes, and her mind imagines Ledger standing before her, bleeding and broken, and in her blind fury and heaving, devastating ache, she might. She might destroy him, take the tender marrow of his bones and crush them beneath her weight, pin him to the dark and unforgiving ground with an array of long, coiling spikes wrought from the bones of her own body. She might collapse against him, feeble and <i>weak</i> - no, never weak; she loathed the thought of it and the heartache is swallowed by the white-hot rage surging within her veins. She would never allow herself to be so vulnerable again – he had taken her heart, tender and fragile, and he had <i>decimated</i> it, handing the brittle ashen remains of it to her and left her to <i>die</i>.
Slowly, carefully, she rises – standing at last, her chest broad and her stance wide, as each wing flexes to the side, poised for violence; yearning to be <i>freed</i> from her imprisonment, to nourish and nurture her son and daughter who had been born of <i>lust</i> and nothing more (<i>she can see the error of her way; she had always known there was nothing of her to love – she had been a fool to think otherwise</i>. Quietly, the eerie darkness is stirred by movement, and what lay before her is enough to steal the air from her lungs, and nearly cause her weary and worn legs to buckle beneath the burden of truth.
One leg, then two – then three, and four, and <i>five</i> - <b>six</b> legs emerge from the shadow, seamlessly moving toward her with grace befitting a creature of flight. Coiled upon his spine are paper-thin, intricately designed wings, allowing each one to shield his flank with their thick but nonetheless fragile chitlin. Along the slender slope of his neck lay bare skin, paler than her own, trailing up to his gaping ear-holes and the long, curling feathered antennae perched above his brow, where large, glimmering compound eyes lay – glistening, glaring in the sudden and obtrusive light shining down from above. His face is gaunt (<i>as slender as she remembered in her youth – deeply dished, where her pale lips had long ago brushed its final kiss – a goodbye she had never intended to be </i>forever).
<i>Elysium</i>. Her father, her heart.
A deep, shaking sob has begun to wrack her body, as the salty brine of her own tears begin to fall from her single, bleary eye, standing the gilded surface of her cheek. <b>”Daddy,”</b> she whispers, the once lost child emerging from within, trembling and uncertain as her warm breath reaches for his own, to feel him, to envelope herself in his warmth – but she cannot, she will not, and as his own mouth brushes across the bridge of her nose, her nostrils flare to wrap herself within his familiar scent.
<font color="#f06f61"><b>”Ellyse,”</b></font> he murmurs softly, <font color="#f06f61"><b>”you have become such a disappointment – I hoped for so much more from you,”</b></font> and she is crushed, her heart shattering tenfold within the tightness of her chest, while the blood roils furiously inside of her veins, flooding her with adrenaline and a tremor of disbelief.
<font color="#f06f61"><b>”You don’t mean that,”</b></font> she whispers, turning her cheek away to hide what is bare and raw and <i>gone</i>, with little else but a gaping wound to show for what has been taken from her.
<font color="#f06f61"><b>”I do,”</b></font> he urges, as his proboscis slowly emerges from between his pale, withdrawn lips, caressing her muzzle and drawing her back into the light, where the fragmented pieces of his vision can see what lay where beauty had once been – now broken, bleeding – a shadow of what she had once been. <font color="#f06f61"><b>”you were meant for so much, for power, for presence, and you let a fickle heart stand in your way. Have I taught you nothing?”</b></font>
<i>Never underestimate your strength, never overestimate your weakness.</i>
And she had!
Oh, she <i>had</i> - her heart, her weak and pathetic heart had been her downfall.
She had failed him; she had failed herself –
<font color="#f06f61"><b>”- what do I do?”</b></font> she breathes, the polarity of her aching, broken heart becoming numb, as the sheer weight of his disappointment is settled between the weary bones of her shoulders.
<font color="#f06f61"><b>"Show me that you are <i>more</i> than what you have become – prove to me that you are not the weak and faltering thing that is standing before me.”</b></font>
<i>How</i>, she does not ask – a tendril has found its way into her mind, whispering softly, <i>you must destroy the thing you love</i>.
<i>Destroy,</i> the insidious voice echoes – it echoes, and it echoes! – and the anger and the <i>resentment</i> and the sorrow and despair return to her at once, seeping from her pores, fueling her with vehemence and vengeance and a longing to <i>be</i>. <i>Show me</i>, he urges - <i>destroy</i>, says the other – <i>escape, escape -</i> her daughters, her sons – she had to escape.
A guttural cry emerges from her throat, as her neck sharply lurches to the left before, being thrown toward the tender column of her father’s neck as her forelegs rise with the sheer force of her body making impact with his own, knocking him against the iron bars and causing his four forelegs and two hind legs to buckle beneath him. Stunned, the complexity of his compound vision is unblinking but struggling to focus upon her, blearily looking up to the vision of rage and light looming over him.
(<i>destroy, destroy, destroy</i>)
(<i>disappointment</i>)
(<i>show me</i>)
(<i>prove to me</i>)
(<i>weak, <b>destroy</b></i>)
<font color="#f06f61"><b>”Ellyse, I –“</b></font>
<font color="#f06f61"><b>”I –“</b></font> she growls, rearing up and crushing her weight onto his brittle and fragile shoulder, as the delicate chitlin of his wingspan is left crumbling and falling away to dust, as a cry of anguish echoes into the darkness. <font color="#f06f61"><b>”- AM –“</b></font> she snarls, rising again to urge her adrenaline-laced energy into his skull, pressing against the fragile bone of his eye socket, puncturing his eye and crushing the bone beneath. <font color="#f06f61"><b>”<i>ENOUGH!</I>”</b></font> she bellows, pounding, stomping, <i>slaughtering</i> her kin beneath her rage, as her lungs fill with the ashy stench of death and the dampness of spilled blood, as her lifeless father lay before her.
As the hatred and the fanning flame of anger slowly dissipates, it is so filled with grief, brim to brim and leaving her eyes hot and stinging with unshed tears. She does not cry for him – she does not mourn her loss; her dying heart lay barely beating inside of its iron cage as she does, too, before lunging toward the light promised to her in return.
<i>Nothing would stand in her way.</i><div style="font-family: 'Jaldi', serif; color: #f06f61; font-size: 12px;text-transform:uppercase; text-align: center;line-height: 10pt; letter-spacing: .5px; text-shadow: .5px 0px 20px #000, 0 0 10px #db554d;padding-top: 10px;">I'm not going to change, so stay out of my way.<br> I don't need you to understand that I'm already saved</div></div></div></div></center>
Elly's father, Elysium, looks like this: <img src="https://s1.postimg.org/1fdz9ijmun/avatar_1171.png">