Le Samurai (absolutcalm) wrote in workingtitle,
Le Samurai
absolutcalm
workingtitle

Coming of Despair.

Everything has its owner and with musical bowstring plucked, the percussional thump of arrowhead prick piercing into furred flesh, Purity was tainted... Despair would claim him now.

He trotted back to Versus' side as she cocked her head further back towards the Groves of Destitution, where the sky bled orange as the day died.

"Aren't we going to eat it?" said Purity as he turned to pad backwards, watching the cooling body with more than a touch of pride.

"Do we ever?" a pause as she let that eyebrow creep high once more "You hungry?"

"Am I ever?" as Purity hefted his white quiver higher up a pale shoulder and he released another round of chuckling; his every breath wafting scents the color of air, too subtle for Versus fickle attention to grasp, too close for Purity to notice: thus, his leash... closing were the eyes of blackest night, the nihilism of Despair, splitting bush with steps on fog, so silent.

Versus of the sky stopped short suddenly; her arm chained Purity in his backwards step, knocking him from revelries. "Something in my skin has changed, I think I'm growing dry...." Purity questioned her with a look, then swept his gaze back over the woodland brush.... Versus knelt, washing the air with a sweep of her hand, glanced up at him, then turned her eyes towards the rolling fog with only a softly breathed "What the fuck?"

Purity raised a palm for quiet as the fog rolled passed then in a shape, like a stampede in diseased dark green... Versus jabbed Purity with the hilt of the Rose blade;

"What do you think--" before the words could pass Purity's lips, the fog jerked about in a change of course; like a viper, it struck, its eyeless head leaping from the soot as if Purity inhaled the taint-- it choked him, sending him reeling back as Versus charged forward with sword raised:

and there, with the black breeze forcing Purity to swallow and inhale, was left the woman with crying skin; her face caked with white powder that bleeds down her throat over spiny, pitch black skin; her flowered dress billowed at her beautifully slim ankles and her eyes, as black as the sky when the city eats its stars, were glass dry though tears had destroyed dollish make-up; they ate away at that second skin still.... Her peeling, smeared-red lips parted; her words on foul breath, meaning etched in yellow gas: "Why is all I love gone, stolen away?"

Versus could only blink.
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Anonymous

July 6 2004, 06:28:44 UTC 12 years ago

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