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    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    I'm a mouth that doesn't smile -- Zuclopenthixol
    #3
    Life is slow when you live forever - as Eight knows. Yet, he has the pleasure of creating turmoil - moving around, wrecking havoc, loving, hating, fighting, fucking. Eight, well he can do whatever he pleases. What the hell could it be like living in the afterworld? Where you are bound to the ghosts of your past. Where you can only communicate with those who have come on into the afterlife. Fuck, Eight would never be able to handle that.


    This was his first trek to the basement down below - and he could immediately tell that it was definitely not for him. Looking behind him, he could see the blurred haze above him - the mix of events and chaos above. Muted voices and the very slight hint of ash and smoke. It was like viewing everything behind a mirror. Eight, luckily, already had the ability to see the world’s activities. But here, it was like a movie reel - flicker after flicker of events, and the ones that piqued your interest slowed down, allowing you a closer look.


    No, Eight could never handle that. And luckily, he would never have to. He was almost, perhaps, doing you a favor- rescuing you from the bland taste of down below. A favor, I mean, until you realized that it wasn’t quite a choice. But maybe loss of control was better than crazy, right?


    You form before him, a jigsaw puzzle of broken bones and pieces - a movie in reverse, your skin healing together, the hair gluing back into follicles, your jaw bone sliding in tightly to your skull. You are whole once again - and you seem none too phased (a sudden intake of air, your eyes flying open - but who could blame you after not breathing for decades). And bless your soul, you know the name of your maker.


    Eight lets a small peel of a chuckle leave his lips, before his features set stoically once again. “Why yes, it does. It seems you have a job to do.” And with that, he steps through the portal to the world above. Before they completely enter the portal, to the chaos above, he turns back to look at you. “Just remember, Zuclo- should you try to do anything I may not like, you’ll find no will power within you.” And it was true, there was no escaping the power of Eight running through your veins - your very body consisted of his magic. If he thought ‘lie’ - the perfect stream of words would fall through your lips. If he thought ‘fight’, your body would tremble with the need for blood.

    So you have escaped your hellish underworld - but you have just begun to live in a new one.

    “And one more thing.” He flicks his head ever so slightly, and a glowing infinity sign carves into the thick skin of your chest - I’m sure, of course, the pain is nothing compared to death - but it is a declaration of ownership - hidden, for now, to the outside world (save for you and Eight) - until the time was ripe. With the arcing of his signature, came the barrier around you - a protection from any magician, mindreading, or trait that may try to penetrate Eight’s controlling cause.

    To the world, you were Zuclo, long lost king, called from the heart of the Gate’s to protect the land you once reigned. But you knew the truth- you were called to be a war creation of Eight’s.
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    Messages In This Thread
    RE: I'm a mouth that doesn't smile -- Zuclopenthixol - by zuclopenthixol - 02-25-2016, 07:05 PM
    RE: I'm a mouth that doesn't smile -- Zuclopenthixol - by Eight - 02-25-2016, 08:08 PM



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