02/25/2022 09:53 AM  Heavenly Waltz Pt I.     S e n s h i   t o   M e g a m i . S e n s e i   t o   S e i t o. P a r t   O n e                Guest Star:        Kimiko Ikusawa [ 1684688 ]   The Old Domains. Time before The Fall: Unknown.      Paint this present as a moving mural above the great plain of clouds. Countless pink petals are sway up and down, carried away by the cool current of endless heavenly breath. The hymn-like howling of highwinds is rich. The moon hanging up high on the milky purple ceiling is full, its glow fairest. Silhouettes of distant mountain peaks with tall trees on them are garnishing the horizon on several directions.    On this sky-blessed realm where mortals cannot simply take a foothold on, old friends now rise on their feet. The desire to test their glorious fellowship spanning eons since they first met blaze forth like the first light of sunrise. Although they have many times battled before, they were not performed in the matter it will be so, right here, right now. Cast aside their mortal limits. Indulge well in their ascension to their respective godhoods.    Forward each foot, nary a haste on each flight, not just yet. Meadow green eyes conceal the inner struggle to stay the vice-grip of one’s celibacy. The foe more than a mile away, albeit a small blurry strip of mirage at the moment, is bearing with her a bewitching beauty. Once a sniveling child often conquered by doubt and cowardice, she has grown into an exceptionally fine lady. She has been bred for war but elevated her elegance throughout the years. Her smooth stride towards the distant celibate man is perfect in its posture, lightly swaying her hips beneath a radiant-white ritual gown.    Belay the sudden musing of decadence, man in gray.  F o c u s . The lady with steel in both hands is no trifling damsel. She is a star pupile of his, ready to show his beloved teacher what she has learned, along with this mighty divinity she brings with her. A katana on her right hand and a black-blade jian on her left are hers to harbor with the gift of pronounced power. The mentor has with him a longsword on the right and a dagger on the left. Both are twin-edged with light streaks of wear and tear through their sturdy gleamming girth.    Through a transmitted thought, he drinks in a short-lived phrase from her, sweet, soothing and sultry in such delightful delivery. “H a j i m e m a s h o u ,  s e n s e i .” ( Let us begin, teacher. )    His pace comes with a mild hurry; the cloudy floor puffs up a little thick misty bush from his steady jogging. Hers is undisturbed, advancing without urgency. Her arms are slightly raised, extending her blades to their respective sides. His blood is warming up from the spicy thrill of a beautiful blessed battle. This gap between them requires to be severed fairly soon.    Once he has committed to more than a hundred footsteps, Raido the Grey One, leaves the cloudy field by powerfully leaping forward, steep and swift his sudden arched airborne road. The longsword is ready above and behind his head to bestow a devastating downward strike upon his still-strolling student. Mind the coming blade, dearest, for it will easily cleave through a high hill as it would do much worse through flesh and bone.    Halt that peacful track, Lady Kimiko. Her dark blue eyes have been hidden all this time. Bless her lungs with a cupful of the heavenly breath around them. Her form goes from a lovely stand to a fierce stab with an elegant twirl of her fingers to redirect the left-hand jian from the side to where the blade shall violently visit her: forward and high. Her bare right foot slid back to stay her ground. The eyes of the man widen a bit at this reaction that required no revelation of her gaze to respond and deny his harm.   Clap a rich note, thunder! The cloud forms into a round two-yard-high wall around them, quickly running away. Raido is left in mid-air and recoils from Kimiko’s perfectly-aimed inclined stab of her swordpoint on the hammering edge of his blade. The man jolts his limbs to regain a sense of balance. The maiden is inclined to toy with him.    Her katana is twirled into a vertical sweep before her. Its blessed steel harbors bits of little storms that if unleashed shall grace a mark with devastation, slicing and smashing away all in slim paths for precision and power. Worse for him, the pace of her strike is divine; a single laceration is thrice, even four times, in its true strike. Deflect them well, she dares him.    Raido swings his dagger forward as he winds back his longsword to follow up. Flashes of curved lines meet the smaller steel, the agony hammers into the inhuman nerves in his wrist and, so soon, the rest of him. The last strike knocks him back, feet looking desparate to regain footing on the cloudy field. His blades are away from her, making him quite exposed for a daring deed on her part.    Kimiko leaps to pounce on Raido. The man is surprised by his beautiful student being airborne he is. He can hear a faint giggle as his face is soon clamped between the inner thighs of her back-bent legs, drowning him in disbelief. She spreads her raised blades like a pair of wings. Strong winds gather around each steel and let out a crisp roar. Kimiko spins both of them into a swift hearty barrel roll. Her sensei feels as light as a pillow with this celestial strength she has. Free him from her lovely legs to harshly crash back onto the misty field beneath them.    B o o m ! Raido’s grunt of agony was overshadowed by his loud descent, accompanied with a greater risen bush of cloud. Kimiko lands shy of twenty yards where her once lofty self flirted with him. Her eyes remain closed. A gentle smile is ever present on her rosy red lips. The tied bun of her flowing black hair is not ruined. That was delightful, to say the least. Being merciful, Kimiko waits for him to regain footing and posture.    Raido slowly rises with a knuckle down on the cloudy floor. That was painful but in some way pleasant too. With a chuckle, he brushes off his mistake, also appreciating the savagery his student just committed him to taste or, better yet, feel. His cheeks could feel the warmth of her flawless skin as it constricted him into helplessness before such a harrowing hurl rendered him into a short-lived meteor.    “Impressive,” he spilled but right after clearing his throat. The symphony of high winds do nothing to really obscure their remarks. After all, divinity permits transmitted thought. But old habits die hard, being mortals as well with lips to flap or purse.    Kimiko shrugs her shoulders, her smile intact. A brow is raised even with her eyes still closed.    “I don’t know. It felt as if you handed me that first blood, sensei.”    “Oh, no, Kimi-chan,” he immediately retorted.    “That was well-earned of you as I paid for my failure to pay attention.”    Raido stands tall again, facing towards his student whose goddess-like presence is just enthralling for him to not stare. Kimiko does not mind. His silence on the matter is amusing. They will not admit it, but there had been sparks through the ages. They are adults, after all, relics to the many others across the cosmos who have just reached past half a century of their respective lives. Strong as his celibacy may be, deep inside, he is still a man with desires. But she can be bolder with her attempt to court him some other time.     Kimiko raises her jian before her, its point eager to poke his nose from yards ahead. She swings down the katana to her side with a crisp swoop of the air to go with it. Kimiko begins to walk towards Raido again. He sweeps his longsword before him, left to right. Raise the dagger to his left side. Etch away a light smirk. The pain from that quick drop is weakening. Jog again towards the maiden and soon turn it into a sprint. Muster a deep breath, free it sharply and let their steel meet and greet in a ferocious forward flurry. Sensei-sama and Seito-chan had just begun their divine waltz above clouds.   To Be Continued. Part Two in the Works.     0 Comments

11/23/2021 02:11 PM  Ashen Accursed. [Halloween 2021 Entry.] Current mood:  devious     S u f f e r  S o r e l y . F e a r   H i m .     Enter a grand dank hall from a brick passage and gate, Three Hunters. The floor is a lake of blood as high as their heels. Shallow plains and hills of emaciated pale corpses garnish the corners of the massive middle of this unholy place. On the other end of this gruesome sanctum, a doorless passage can be seen on the far-left corner. There lies the next destination. Mosey on further, folks with trick weapons and firearms.     Soon, Nightmare Fog emerges on the entryway from when they came and where they need to go. Stronger than fortress walls, they act as phantasmic blockades, impossible to breach with any kind of sheer force in the known world. They also signify an important task the three must commit to advance. A great prey looms. They must slay it and succeed in doing so to unmake the doors of mist.     “Help us,” called out a slow raspy voice of a man; he is blessed with the same lack of health and complexion as the corpses around him. He drags himself from the blood-coated ground, eager to alarm the visitors, perhaps beg for their aid.     “P-Please, help... us. An unsightly beast.”     The red waters are disturbed, rippling from the thud of beastly hooves, each the size of a grown boar. Long bent arms have their hands crawling forward. Hunched forward, this slow-crawling monolith towering beyond thrice the stature of the tallest Hunter out of the three. The pale muddy skin is all wrinkled, hairy and slimy. The creature is concealed in a thick tattered grey cloak and a torn hood; they are bathed well by what the floor is filled with. The mouth with horribly-chapped lips is split open from one hidden ear to another. Teeth are filed to fangs, chipped like a wavy top of a long old crumbled wall that is cannot a ceiling from its ruined state.     From an arduous pilgrimage with all kinds of twisted sights, troublesome sounds, and terrorizing savagery—men, beasts, and cosmic kins alike, this small brave band will soon face an adversary the likes they have never had before. But, it is not the Accursed Beast that should have greeted them. No, this is something new. Something that even the Old Hero of the Healing Church himself personally feared, even respected. An astral outlander from a realm beyond the known existence. It is human in form but not in spirit and limit. A legend in his own right, this different ‘he,’ but was never given the proper prominence. Let dear Ludwig rest. This beastly bloke will entertain each guest.     Now, he stands as a huge hindrance for what progress the Hunters must proceed. He is their prey. Or will they be his?     The hunched giant still in the middle of the other side of the room hums the humble growl of tens of lions if their throats are made out of big brass. The Hunters raise their arms as they approach the prey. He should be no different than the plenty that they have slaughtered before. Be mindful of the cruetly he brings them and evade each of his attacks. Strike fiercely when privy an opening. Be at a safe distance to heal when wounded. Repeat. But, oh, if only he would make it that easy.     Quick as a storm wind, the beast in gray gallops forth two wide inhuman steps! He closes the gap too soon for them to react well enough. Before they can move their feet to dodge, his thunderous halt comes with a powerful swipe of his outstretched left hand with the same ferocity as Vicar Amelia did as a belligerent beast. It greets the right sides of their torsos something brutal. They are all knocked back now with a searing pain to endure on their ribs.     No quarter to give, the swipe came with winding up the power of the Old Blood, coating his limb with a swirling red ink. The bones in his unholy body crackle and crunch loudly!     The Hunters regain better footing and back away in a hurry; they ready themselves in stabbing a blood vial onto each of their thighs. Too late! The backhand of the same lashing limb greets them again with equal savagery as before, aimed just above their ankles! The cloaked fiend bends forward from this devastating deed that his knees are nearly kissing the putrid pool beneath them all. This time, the arm with a clawing hand is blessed with the power of blood, intensifying the trauma that will be felt at least twice-fold, maybe more. How unfortunate for these Hunters.     S w i p e ! They are knocked off their feet! Blood splashes up! But no, it is far from over. Or even more so, more terribly so, it is over. For them. The prey in gray swings up his blood-powered hand. The pointers that could grip well a hilt of a mighty blade coil together into an infuriated fist. He quickly wallops it down on their bodies one by one with the speed of an angered serpent committed to striking without mercy. Worse, he repeats this madness! Their eyes widen as their life is being violently taken away from them. There is nothing they can do. The repeating hammering stomps of the bloody fist are as swift as a few blinks of the eye and as merciless as if the three Hunters demolish together a pathetic lone huntsman with all of their weapons at their strongest forms.     For ten seconds, the monster in gray plays a ghastly game of whack-a-mole on the visitors. Little fruits beneath the merciless mallet of a mad god. Thuds from his relentless strikes and splashes from the disturbed pool of blood are filling the foul air of these woeful walls. And then he stops. Muddy emeralds are upon the lifeless bags of flesh in clothing before him. Not a twitch from their limbs. Their weapons are left partly dipped on the red flood. The slim corpse who hailed on the Hunters watches helplessly as help is no more. Deep croaking breaths from the cloaked monstrosity. He stands before the Hunters, or, one could consider as prey. Lifeless prey, soon turning into pale mist and then removed from these horrid halls.   T  H  E  Y   D  I  E  D  .   - - - 🎃  H a p p y   H a l l o w e e n .  🎃 R  P  /  1  6  8  1  4  0  5     0 Comments

11/23/2021 11:50 AM  C l a s h . [Entry.]   O n w a r d   t o   f a c e   e v i l !     [ Play for epic mood. This music track was actually what inspired this entry in the first place. ] Stride on, lusty limbs! Soles are stomping the ground whilst on a smooth gallop—dirt left to spring alive! Wide leaps and great haste are made. Nerves twitch with strain. Lungs burn for breath to exchange the old with the new. Now is not the time to be a statue. Instead, be a comet on its way to a mighty impact! Frayed ends of a tattered grey cloak are at the mercy of the stinging winds brought upon by this spirited promenade. Pernicious purpose is not simply out of the unyielding need for slaughter. To ward off the wicked wave, even if it may later seem hopeless should it all goes quite ill, is a damn noble goal. So few bears the steel heart to brave this mass of malice, all armed to the teeth and ready to conquer a banquet of civilization behind the lone hasty voyager. In hand, the grip is tight upon the trusted sharpest prophet whose gospels are enunciated, extravagant, elegant, and epic in execution. Its girth gleams a bit even at the muddy malady of the heavens. The sun does at its best to shine through the miserable murky cloud-roaming canvas. Several long lean ribbons of hissing mist gather around the now luminous lacerating length; their choir song, only the coming of a twister can perhaps produce it. Yards become inches and—darkest tidings upon the wicked! Upon a pronounced pause of foot-flight, the ferocious fang danced in a wide vigorous sweep, right to left. F l a s h ! It brought with it the cruel crackling of thunder and divine fury disguised as a moment of blinding radiance and the air looking quite like a slender beam of glass so soon for eyes to catch as a hummingbird flapped its swings only a few times. The twelve nearest armored atrocities are knocked back and off their feet! Tossed like boulders to then fumbling away, they were! The ranks behind them and the ones after are left to unconditionally commit to a horrible pile-on. Evil eyes widened in shock from this surprise of inconvenience that would surely bring them searing pain and great disadvantage. Rage is but a few vices boiling within the man in grey whose latest act was quite the sight to see. The valiant fellow with a corpse-like visage, he was once decent-looking. But belay even the faintest consideration of vanity. Duty is alive and antagonistic upon who this lone swordsman is up against, so damn many of them ahead. But alone, oh heavens, no, he is not. Seconds after the sword concluded drawing first blood, allies with their own steel, stone, and skill follow as a long row of riveting ruthlessness. Dirt and scars on their faces, young and old, either barely bathed in battle before this momentous present or perhaps too many. They were behind him, brewing many musings not limited to just concern for the good folks who this terrible tide they must hold back from. They ache to sink their wrath upon the horde. Give them a thrashing of a lifetime that if some do survive this drastic debacle, a twitch of thought from this savage skirmish will make their nerves cuddle with the bitter bite of a sudden winter. Slash, slam, stab, even stray forth several arrows, the rest soon do! Crisp the thuds are of battering limbs, whether flesh or steel or stone. Give kindness no quarter! Snarls of the mad are met with bold roars of voices who can fathom and even wield reason. Iron and steel, even rock and bone-craft, all bring together a rich symphony in deathly duets and barbaric bands! Swords sing and scorn! Daggers dash, dive and dig! Warhammers wail and wallop! Halberds hurl and hack! Spears sweep and skewer! Arrows advance, airborne and agile! Shields shun short-tempered showmanships! Snatch a limb away from a blundering bulk of the next available cretinous foul-folk but the latter does rebut in terrible kind! Aim for where the armor is thin or none at all. Heads may roll, some already do! Give grief to what poor footing is brought the misfortune of being caught by each lifeless tumbling. Pluck out those pearls for peering ahead and around. The man in grey waltzes with his gospel-bringing friend against the island of sprightly evil around him and his comrades. Take heavy heed upon an ally in a moment of great bother, so close for their lovely eyes in being gouged by something ill and perhaps fatal. Swing up with some discipline! Release another glass-like wind to fly forth towards the foe who has the friend near the brink of being escorted away by the Reaper. S l a m ! Its helmet rings with a harsh thud. The assault was swiftly interrupted. Eyes swing left and right like a pair of little pendulum balls. Even cretins behind it got hurled away from leftover trauma of divine aggression. The friend is free and soon delivers a lethal stab to the neck with her sharp steel shorter than what the man in grey is carrying with him. Nod quickly a gratitude. Celebrations can wait. Duty must be satiated. Rage on, great battle. Rage far past birth. Fill these foul fields with fury, out of wrath or mirth. Each pernicious party must prove its worth. Clash proudly like two storms, predators and protectors of the earth!       0 Comments

11/23/2021 11:47 AM  Warriors Waltz. [Oct. 27, 2021 Drabble]     W a r r i o r s   W a l t z . A c c o r d   o f   A r m s .  Guest star: Mika / Megumi Sinclair (RP 1682492)     Savor the silence before the storm. The storm is a compromised clash. Readiness and excitement become of all parties involved. Soon, this calm will conclude. Eagle emeralds of one quite stoic meet the raptor rubies of another quite contented. B r e a t h e . B e g i n .     Onward, close the gap and waltz together, man and woman! Pounce well or pull back a limb or two. Let tempered steel sing swiftly and sternly in this dance. Sword of the East and of the West, each is paired with a dagger or a pole with a lacerating end. One tool leads with a sweep or a stab. The other follows to quickly bite and make the partner think on their feet and fast. Speak clearly and cruelly to each other upon crisp deflection, sharp edges!     Before a forest temple under the early morning sun, a man in gray and a lady in Centurion leather delight themselves in old exploits. Hardship for many who barely bathed in conflicts, mere recreation for the two of them, this sort of rumba. Footworks are steady and stylish as do their arms to exact calculated harm. Half and full swings of his sword or her halberd, they tease each other with these playful deeds. But if each connects and the other fails to deflect, o, the pain will be so thorough in its kiss and embrace.     She leaps so elegantly to evade his savage swipes. Her pirouettes to make the storm-strong swings of her halberd cover much space and make the fellow rethink his distance are quite glamorous. The way she bends her goddess form that stirs lust within many is also exquisite, from arms to legs and mild twists of her torso. But her bodily flair is not just meant to enthrall but also done to deny the agony the man she is dancing with can deliver. O, he is no slouch himself, this unsightly bloke before her, battle-bred just as much as she is. And they are holding back out of respect for this fine realm they are having this barbaric ballroom on.     Celibate as he may be, the corpse-looking man will not deny that his foe on this skirmish is alluring. But this halberd-hurling black-haired beauty houses a competent beast who, on her own, can wage a harrowing war with an army-blessed nation if she so desired. That being thought of, think fast! He takes a wide step back upon the sight of her naginata eager to kiss the side of his neck with more fury than earlier; her limbs worked together on this latest strike to remind him not to slack off. He sweeps upward and left his longsword along with his dagger behind it. Push away the peril of that large blade on the end of the pole! He grunts upon the callous contact! Back another two steps to maintain balance.     The woman giggles as she retracts her long arm, resting a bit of it on her shoulder. ‘Not bad, but he could have rebutted more confidently,’ mused in silence this Centurion señorita with a tilted head. Smirk, recover a deep breath, change stance. The cloaked Adonis raises a brow, nearly smirking himself. He too changes his form with his longsword ahead and his dagger hovering on his respective left. ‘Foolish am I to keep going easy on her,’ he pondered while regaining a deep breath as well.     Stride ahead swiftly, steel at the ready.     Waltz well and wild, warrior of two!     0 Comments

09/18/2021 11:06 PM  𝐀𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐀𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫. [Writing Entry.] Current mood:  devious           Grace the heathen earth below with the coming of swift white horses. They gallop madly and proudly from the twisting dark skies above. Heavenly hooves conduct a symphony that will sure to rattle the ears and bring a trembling burden upon weak hearts. Their proud paths are beaming brightly, leaving big wide swatches in momentary darkness on the massive meadow of murk.       Dim emeralds seem lost towards the horizon tens of yards away, withholding ill judgment. A smoldering caldera is brewing within an aged soul so slighted. Power meant to punish may be inevitable as the seconds mosey on. Testament of sin by bloodshed and defilement of innocence, done with not a speck of shame to show, is alit and quite bitter for musing. Dark dirty deeds were done two sundowns ago. Such blasphemy to comfort and goodwill requires... retribution. Justice.      Blood will be spilt, for reason has been forsaken by the sinners. The sickening pleasure to enact wicked things is unending opium. They excite themselves with the putrid portraits and melodies of a massacre, even egregious ecstasy of making others, young and old, into fleshly toys for breeding or satisfy stomach-turning urges. Despicable. Many enough of those kind souls had charity so divine to give even to an unsightly bloke such as he; his wrinkle-riddled visage could sorely belong in a crypt. Some even nursed him back to fair health. Damn these cretins who robbed the friendly strangers with so much more than a drop of blood.        “F i e n d s .”      His slighted spill was a brooding baritone with a fair blend of an intimidating croaking growl by the king of the jungle.      Awaken from the slim house behind the person, sharp prophet of war. The steady steel is made from compounds considered as silly myths in this latest iteration of the Grandest Cosmos. It does mimic that adamance of modern metal, but there is more to it. Far more. It gleams handsomely with each thunderous passing of the stratospheric stallions. Produce a stance that will erupt into a graceful pounce, bringing a vigorous swing or stab that can slice or skewer a boar snout to tail with ease.      He is furthest from pleased, this knightly traveler. In him, there is an agitated ache to unleash unbridled rage from offense greatly taken. This band of demons before him are the great offenders. Curse them with their sickly wax-like skin, tree-tall hunched stature, two unkempt rows of fangs, and long curved talons, all still damp from sanguine stain as they had such fun and a feast with their latest prey, different from who is avenging. But these poor souls are ever so worthy of being avenged themselves.        “For your vileness, I will exact a toll placed well on your roads long paved. One so deserving of you to pass through.”       Justice will be served, indeed. Each will not listen to reason to cease the madness they are drowning in. By blade bringing beautiful barbarism with storm-strong strength, they will cuddle close with a cosmic comeuppance.        “Payment is absolute.”      Sing and stomp savagely, stallions from the storm. A storm too is what this valiant corpse in tattered grey will wield away towards these wretches. One of his own marvelous making. Dare to harm and to pervert others as they are just meat for devious delight, taste thoroughly the hells of the brave who will show remorseless wrath.      Roar and make haste onward, ashen avenger! Stomp a stride, flow of a river his grace. United grip on his sharp ally is a python’s hug. Leap and aim for a neck or where a heart is! Do not miss! Through lusty limbs and celestial steel, and through virtue and vengeance, the man in grey, with extreme prejudice will bring forth the wrath of the gods!       [ My warmest thanks to Lady Kimiko for providing much constructive feedback further adding to what was included in this entry and some really neat wording suggestions. You are divine, my dearest. 💜 ]     0 Comments

09/05/2021 12:07 AM  Warriors Will Waltz. [Short Entry.]   [ This is an excerpt of something in the works. ]   [ Play for vibe. ;3 ] Harken the roar of the great fog door. Savor the mural of leering sunset past three large windows with sharp arcs. The marble floor is immaculate in its gloss, reflecting enough of the world above its polished surface. Rise up, armored host in meditation. Meet the visitor in tattered grey. Bring aloft the Far-Eastern blade of incredible length once in a nap on the lap near the knees. Let the newcomer spend precious seconds to liberate and lift up their own steel. Commit to a steadfast stance, both gents. Proud chests and mellow shoulders. Legs and elbows apart. Hilt secured in each grip. Sharp steel is before each person, preferably front right. Bloodthirsty tips are facing the high ceiling. Eyes of meadow green peer without judgment upon the iron mask of the host towering twice a man. Such attire meant to ward off harm of blade and blunt does not seem to belong in this kingdom. Perhaps it is part of a culture in a distant nation from whence he came, this lordly loner bearing a long limb of laceration.   On this grand hall fit for a grand ball, two shall partake a dance, fancy and fierce. The host, dressed in fashionable plates, and the visitor, veiled in ash-blessed hood and cloak fitting a vagabond, take careful steps forward. Leap a forward stride! Exact a mighty swing that can behead a poor soul! Sing a crisp clang, furious fangs! Before sultry sunset and above marvelous marble, warriors will waltz.   0 Comments

09/05/2021 01:38 AM  BiFrosty [Drabble Entry] Current mood:  adventurous Rekindle, fiery spirit for great adventures into landscapes not native to a single world. Privy to sail smoothly and swiftly through the vastest darkness between stars, the Adonis-statured corpse waits no longer. Zoom forth and be skyward, star-trekker! Into the pulchritudinous passage of gleaming light and colors, he goes! Set course to a faraway marble past a myriad of stars.   Stiffen oneself to a proud prone, head tilted up. Green eyes are keen on the end of this transcendent tunnel, unreachable as it never seems to get closer. Loose ends of the ash-tinted cloak flail zealously. Divine air allows lowly mortals to breathe better in this celestial sail. ‘Tis nourishment he can be without, but he still welcomes it. The whirling wall of light around the lone passenger is a fortress that takes the fury of the cosmos or a god to break. Haste is heavenly, elevating one’s excitement of exploration. Starbound chap, guest of the New Creation, suppresses his thrill for the distant world he will set his primordial foot on. For good or ill, these nerves harboring oddest atoms are yearning an overdose of adrenaline through amazing adventures into a world, even a galaxy, far, far away.   Reach for the stars. An ambitious sentiment not limited on Earth.   0 Comments

09/02/2021 12:38 AM  A Promise. [Entry for Read.] Current mood:  peaceful   Guest Star: 💙 Aza-Vela 💙      Stray skyward, twin audience of light and darkness, joy and woe. The vast vista of the night garnished handsomely by celestial sparkles, fuzzy ships, and gleaming continents is mesmerizing. The earth below with its highs and lows, plains and curves, dirt, lumber, green and waters compliments the cosmic ceiling. Yes, it is a fleeting speck of dirt in the whole of creation, outlived by the distant dazzling diamonds. However, the great marble does outlive its many denizens with even more fleeting lives.    This moment seems so still yet plenty do move around or about, small and large, slow or swift. The stargazer with many tales to tell has nary a whisper to spill out of spite. Garbed in a tattered hood and cloak, ash tainted what lush tint it had. A cloth veils the husk-like hide from nose to chin. What tragedies might be etched on those ghastly wrinkles surrounding the enthralled emeralds?    “Do you miss it?” asked a sultry disembodied voice of a woman.    “Your home?”    The bonfire more than a yard behind the stargazer crackles. Alone, he is not. Seconds without response creep by. The lady with a fairest ivory-peach skin and long silvery-golden hair and kept decent in a black gown flaunts not the faintest hint of impatience on her divine visage. A small creature of pearl scale is curled on her lap, dreaming sweetly.    “Absolutely,” the man bridged the silence at last. His manly voice is a blend of optimism and the warm promise of a doting lover.    “Perhaps it has been rebuilt, somewhere in these latest cosmic landscapes.” Soft fingertips stride upon the back of the tiny sleeping legend. Its closed wings lightly twitch.    “I would love to go there, someday.”    The man takes a rest from admiring the evening sky. His companion, radiant and regal, deserves more than just his chatter while his back is turned. Her icy blue eyes glimmer from the dancing flame. They leave him rather spellbound. The maiden meets his gaze, not galled at the slightest by his silent stare. Their fellowship took flight nearly a decade ago. Even by the tiniest and weakest of embers, a longing that he believed to have been pillaged from him lifetimes ago is astir.    The cloaked fellow approaches the woman, soon pausing this short stroll. Before her, he rests a knee upon the floor of soil and dried fallen leaves. A palm wrapped in old cloth with exposed little ghoulish limbs reaches for one of her hands, bare and without blemish. She reciprocates his grasp, smooth and tender, deprived of disgust, as she brings it into a fond union with his wraithlike skin.    “If it is indeed the case, I promise to take you there...” Pause to give sweet stress to a splendid spill.    “...Aza-Vela.”   Joy is portrayed upon her strawberry red lips. Lean forth. Their foreheads soon kiss. Eyes closed. Swaying flame crackles. The mythic lizard is whimpering pleasantly from undisturbed rest.    Blessed be this eve. What despair and horrors linger to haunt hearts and corrupt spirits are forgotten beneath the starry skies. These two souls are caught in a moment of much-deserved peace and togetherness between dearest friends. Maybe, just maybe, a promising bloom of something more.   0 Comments

02/07/2021 01:27 AM  S T A R G A Z E R [V 2.0} [Poem] Current mood:  mellow     0 Comments

02/05/2021 12:19 PM  Wait and Wonder. [Entry for Read.] Current mood:  relaxed     [ A melody to set the mood. ]      Bless this moment. Its enchanted fairness seems frozen in time.    Here and now, a nation stands. Its countless healthy green citizens are swaying from the latest visit of mellow breeze. Blossomed flora of white, yellow, and purple are in clusters spread throughout this lush expanse. Choirs of tall trees that require awesome agility or fearless flight to reach their peaks tens of yards high are making either slim or thick woodlands. Sweet songs of winged ones add their formless color into the meek winds, thus keeping silence at bay.    Nature is indeed a divine architect and artist. Those that governed the making and well-being of this world from eons ago are perhaps great descendants of the inconceivable primordial authorities from which existence was born from. Those oldest celestial powers that spun the heavens, spouted the seas, and sculpted the earth can make an earthbound soul sorely yearn to seize and to use them in order to mend all the troubles in life, to conquer and rule as one who is above all else, or to unleash unbridled chaos with no remorse.    ‘Tis a beautiful breathing mural mankind can only hope to mirror.    However, an inopportune blight sticks out on this lovely gallery of wonders like a sore thumb. A man in grey is aloft with both feet planted on fertile ground in this grand shamrock garden. Thread-craft ensures censorship of this quiet Adonis, hood and tall cloak, long sleeves and gloves, and down to his pants and boots. One may mistake the fellow as one born of ash from this murky ensemble.    A tattered cloth also tucks away much of his manly visage. His flesh is husk-like, hideous as a ghastly corpse. What tragedy had struck him is a long tale of its own. Even a single lifetime of this world’s dominant biped cannot condense in it the regrets and woes which further enforced this affront to vanity kept at this very hour, perhaps until his dying day. A corpse in life as he will be in death. A sad trope to follow him.    In silence, the man is grateful that worlds such as this one manage to keep soothing slivers of Eden to last for generations. He is aware of the seemingly savage conquest by civilizations as mankind and even other sentient life-forms out there have a desire for expansion and advancement. Whether out of malice or ignorance, whether mindless or methodical, such destruction always comes before what transient creations are then erected.    Tiny pearls, a pair of audience to dancing light and reigning darkness, are graced with the same humble green as the colorful canvas he establishes his stature of six feet and two inches on. They peruse ahead almost engaged in a thousand-yard stare. The ivory-blue horizon kissing the faraway peak with streaks of snow on its colossal bulk is captivating.    Behind him in a scabbard rests an old friend: a twin-edge fury and slightly shorter than his arm in length. The sturdy gleaming blade from the tip down to the pommel is a remarkable medium for the means to harness the power of the cosmos in a single laceration or perforation. But that requires willpower and discipline from the man should he awaken his fearless friend, comrade in countless battles.    If prodded by an inquisitive mind and he is without qualm to yield the bare truth, the grey-garbed gent may disclose where he hails from. Peculiar, the answer will be, at least to those who may not comprehend the grandeur of such musing. It may be deemed quite distant and alien for most folks in which soaring past the thicket of clouds is a fleeting experience to leave the ground they spend much of their lives on.    The man is not from this world, not even the lake of stars around it, and not even from sparkling oceans stretching into the rim of the indelible void, no. Truth be told, he is from an archaic existence that long ceased to be. Long. That is an understatement of the eon.    It remains a burning unease, burdensome as carrying the world on his shoulders, to ponder the slightest of its paltry conclusion. O, hearts shall tremble and minds may fray, all in disbelief, fear, and paranoia, should the denizens of this world be brought upon such worrisome awareness.    Their great precious marble of earth, water, and air is harboring an envoy of the end. He is an instigator—one out of countless—of an appalling act that cannot be undone. An almighty apocalypse. Tribunals with such hatred and lack of charity will be had, perhaps a bureaucratic alternative of wanting his head on a pike, if mankind ever discovers his presence and then rashly deduce with lofty offense his asylum in their world.    Good fortune, however, does not leave him out in the cold clutches of misunderstood cruelty. Decency is still practiced by those who assess the merit of one by his or her character. There are those in this world, though not too keen of who he is, who have shown him enough goodwill to savor and appreciate. Their judgment is not ill but well in mind and heart. Cautious, maybe, but ever so magnanimous.    Yes, he had committed celestial sins from before this empyrean mural of space and time was born. But they, the mild-mannered ones, are understanding that the past is the past. After all, he has no inclination to reenact them, let alone done with forsaken discipline, if aggression is prompted. Should his deeds bring about causalities that may rock the cosmos, an old adage must be rekindled. Perhaps timeless wisdom all must keep well in sharpest mind. Actions have consequences.    Life. Did he cheat it but long deny such confession? Or is he cursed to bear it until the powers that be finally decide to take it away from him?    End of worlds, the tantrum of dying stars, pestilences that ravaged earthbound folks and citizens of high heavens and horrid hells alike, the kiss of Beyond which should leave one in unending madness; he survived it all. The passing of the bygone Creation he hailed from, he too was spared, though not swiftly. Oblivion hungered for him as it did for all else brought into its ravenous abyss by The Fall.    But such damnation is not enough as penance. Life. Life anew after being spat back by the ungodly abyss is a much greater penance, perhaps. Live it better than before.    The transgressions of this stranger are irreparable with the vast cosmic realms deceased and discarded, so the latest one can blossom. A clean slate, but only to an extent. After all, after being reborn, recollections sprouted from his hollow psyche and filled him with dread and despair, taking a while to make peace that he cannot go back. He cannot undo his sins. Making amends must come from moving forward and do his best with what he is given. Account to what mistakes will be made along the way. Own his errors and their repercussions.    Perish or pause this deep dive into the sea of considerations and rise into the brilliant starkness of the now. The fellow in gray ends his lifeless stare with a blink. A sparrow with brown and white feathers shows bravery or maybe friendliness as it lands on his left shoulder. Twirl his head a bit to better see the winged companion.    “Hello there,” greeted the man to the little creature with his timbre both manly and homely. “Come here often?” It responds with a sweet chirp. The cloaked gent chuckles softly. He offers a curled finger to stroke the bird’s nearest cheek. It doesn’t flinch but shakes its head rapidly for a moment. Sing more, tiny cheerful chip on his shoulder.    This man, Raido the Gray One, has been called upon this nation of green under the afternoon sky by either an old friend or foe. The circumstance will have to decide the rapport. Until the summoner is within sight and perhaps within reach to fill the moments with words or deeds, he must wait. Highest hopes are upheld that it will not result in reshaping and recoloring this beautiful place into a scene of firestorm and great desolation. Past encounters proved that they have not been consistent being in the best of terms. Forces used to move and mangle stars were flaunted with such terrifying potency to repel the other.    Let it be left pristine when the two souls, both from languished lifetimes, part ways even if this coming crossroad turns ill for one’s humble musing. Let this realm rich in wonders not suffer from the wrath of old gods. At least, those are what Raido is leaning on with optimism while his mellow stoicism is shamelessly presented.     [ 💖 G r a t i t u d e 💖 ] I offer my most profound and warmest thanks to the writers behind Kimiko, Hanzo, and Vorax who lent their fabulous time to proof-read my work and provide some lovely ideas themselves. d(^_^   2 Comments

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