Post by Fallen on Mar 25, 2024 0:05:11 GMT -7
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"Speech"
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And so it was done.
It had been declared the day the son of his Lady Lord, Rasa returned back to the gates of heaven battered and beaten. The underworldlings had taken her Lord Nehemiah and it must have been to much to bear on the young Lord. Nothing was found of him but sparse feathers... The 19 hand behemoth let his wings out stretch then, the giant appendages casting a shadow along the rocks below. Today he tread upon the outskirts of Eden, his giant heavy frame nestled in the rocky cliffs comfortably. Despite the lack of a sea crashing at its walls, this particular spot reminded The Fallen of his old home... back when he ruled the light kingdom of Elutheria. The old memory caused the elder angel to inhale deeply before letting his melancholy gaze fall to the lands below. He was high enough that the gathering equines in Eden looked to be no more than ants. Trivial. Small. Lacking greatness. The granite hued behemoth grunted then, his stoic features curling into a slight frown. In this war, the beast had taken a demon, confronted the mortal lass Sly as well for working for the demon king. Her motivations was still unclear to the angelic beast, as was really this war now. The Fallen found himself questioning things. Things that shouldn't be questioned. He was but a soldier. He forfeited his right to question his Lord and Lady when he stepped away from the vacant throne. He lifted his heavy roman skull then, his long silver lashes blinking slowly as he thought. Did he do the right thing? Was he content with only being a soldier? Could he of done more had he taken up the mantle of 'GOD'?
The scowl deepened upon his speckled maw then, his long wispy locks lifting in the stray breeze as he stood there. His thoughts alone were blasphemous, this he knew. However there was no stopping the questions, the curiosities. He had always felt that lights were a bit too soft. Too unprepared for the war that was now declared, even in his old home. The lights and those of 'good nature' were the soft underbelly of the world. Shielded. Weak. And now, here be angels. Most seemingly afraid of bloodshed, of marring their wings. Most did not know violence. Not true violence. They could not stomach it. They would be unable to face themselves. Sadly, the giant thought, they were all sheep laying in wait to be devoured by the wolves. The Fallen inhaled deeply now, a heavy sadness settling in his gut. Was he merely a wolf in the shepherds herd? He never hid his origins. Never hid the fact that he had once been as cruel and as dark as even the devil could be. Though it was not by his choice, and he suffered for his sins even now as he stood with the grace of heaven on his back, was he truly one that could be favored? Could his taste of all that was unholy ever truly be forgiven? Could God love him?
Or would he, himself have to become the God he sought out all of his life?
The Fallen let his heavy skull shift then, his melancholy stare looking in the direction of what would of been Hell's gates. It wasn't purely a physical place however... just as the gates of heaven weren't always large bars of pearlescent metal with beams of gold and warmth. The gates were what they needed to be to each individual. They were what that being needed to see, to feel, to hear. OR so he thought. The Fallen had never considered going to Hell. He felt no need to for he had lived his hell for so long. He could only imagine it to be like such. The granite hued angel let his gaze shift once more, just looking. He was a bold creature, but he was not stupid. Traveling to Hell would be a death sentence, even if he wished to have answers.
With that thought, the monstrous draft of an angel lifted his thick nape, his heavy roman skull stretching outward as he did so. His clouded pools looked up into the heavens, long silver lashes shading his gaze as the nearly ethereal whisps of his silver threads blew along his face and began to thread between his feathers. "I must know for myself.. forgive me." His deep baritone lyrics carried from dark lips before they parted to release a hellish roar. The sound so thunderous and deep, it nearly shook the rocky cliff he stood upon. The Fallen let his mind open then as the roar echoed through the mountain tops and across the valley, the invisible tether of his cognizance reaching for that of the Devil with only a singular call of his name.
Tagged: A z z y w/ xerxes | Words: 813 | Notes: <3 partially recycled
And so it was done.
War.
It had been declared the day the son of his Lady Lord, Rasa returned back to the gates of heaven battered and beaten. The underworldlings had taken her Lord Nehemiah and it must have been to much to bear on the young Lord. Nothing was found of him but sparse feathers... The 19 hand behemoth let his wings out stretch then, the giant appendages casting a shadow along the rocks below. Today he tread upon the outskirts of Eden, his giant heavy frame nestled in the rocky cliffs comfortably. Despite the lack of a sea crashing at its walls, this particular spot reminded The Fallen of his old home... back when he ruled the light kingdom of Elutheria. The old memory caused the elder angel to inhale deeply before letting his melancholy gaze fall to the lands below. He was high enough that the gathering equines in Eden looked to be no more than ants. Trivial. Small. Lacking greatness. The granite hued behemoth grunted then, his stoic features curling into a slight frown. In this war, the beast had taken a demon, confronted the mortal lass Sly as well for working for the demon king. Her motivations was still unclear to the angelic beast, as was really this war now. The Fallen found himself questioning things. Things that shouldn't be questioned. He was but a soldier. He forfeited his right to question his Lord and Lady when he stepped away from the vacant throne. He lifted his heavy roman skull then, his long silver lashes blinking slowly as he thought. Did he do the right thing? Was he content with only being a soldier? Could he of done more had he taken up the mantle of 'GOD'?
The scowl deepened upon his speckled maw then, his long wispy locks lifting in the stray breeze as he stood there. His thoughts alone were blasphemous, this he knew. However there was no stopping the questions, the curiosities. He had always felt that lights were a bit too soft. Too unprepared for the war that was now declared, even in his old home. The lights and those of 'good nature' were the soft underbelly of the world. Shielded. Weak. And now, here be angels. Most seemingly afraid of bloodshed, of marring their wings. Most did not know violence. Not true violence. They could not stomach it. They would be unable to face themselves. Sadly, the giant thought, they were all sheep laying in wait to be devoured by the wolves. The Fallen inhaled deeply now, a heavy sadness settling in his gut. Was he merely a wolf in the shepherds herd? He never hid his origins. Never hid the fact that he had once been as cruel and as dark as even the devil could be. Though it was not by his choice, and he suffered for his sins even now as he stood with the grace of heaven on his back, was he truly one that could be favored? Could his taste of all that was unholy ever truly be forgiven? Could God love him?
Or would he, himself have to become the God he sought out all of his life?
The Fallen let his heavy skull shift then, his melancholy stare looking in the direction of what would of been Hell's gates. It wasn't purely a physical place however... just as the gates of heaven weren't always large bars of pearlescent metal with beams of gold and warmth. The gates were what they needed to be to each individual. They were what that being needed to see, to feel, to hear. OR so he thought. The Fallen had never considered going to Hell. He felt no need to for he had lived his hell for so long. He could only imagine it to be like such. The granite hued angel let his gaze shift once more, just looking. He was a bold creature, but he was not stupid. Traveling to Hell would be a death sentence, even if he wished to have answers.
With that thought, the monstrous draft of an angel lifted his thick nape, his heavy roman skull stretching outward as he did so. His clouded pools looked up into the heavens, long silver lashes shading his gaze as the nearly ethereal whisps of his silver threads blew along his face and began to thread between his feathers. "I must know for myself.. forgive me." His deep baritone lyrics carried from dark lips before they parted to release a hellish roar. The sound so thunderous and deep, it nearly shook the rocky cliff he stood upon. The Fallen let his mind open then as the roar echoed through the mountain tops and across the valley, the invisible tether of his cognizance reaching for that of the Devil with only a singular call of his name.
"Xerxes."
Tagged: A z z y w/ xerxes | Words: 813 | Notes: <3 partially recycled
"Speech"
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