My entry for If 3-10
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We broke it.
We broke it magnificently, perfectly and absolutely beautifully.
We broke it so completely that even the shards that remained are trying to destroy, love, hurt and embrace us now. We hurt it so bad that even its pain, joy and sadness is trying to kill us. Like a wounded animal it spits and growls and whispers at us. It stalks us, during the night, during the day, no matter where, no matter when.
Because we broke it..
The bloodsuckers have no idea. There lycanthropes haven't got the faintest clue either.
Of course.
How could they? It was so long ago, so incredibly long ago. And it still hurts. It is still in pain, it is still in agony and bliss and joy even to this day. Oh how we tore it apart back then. We ripped it in pieces and left only darkness and no light in its place. The wounds will never heal. They can not heal. We made sure of that, oh yes, it's agony will not fade.
Such a delicious agony it is, oh, how delicious all-hating, all-consuming pleasure.
Sometimes I can feel it as it snaps at my heels, when I weave the lowest possible miracle. Oh, how funnily it barks and growls and hisses. Such a beautifully twisted little thing. I can not avert my eyes from its futile tries to twist my insides out, how it cutely tries to rip my soul straight out of my body. The way its insubstantial fangs attempt to dig into my head to devour my brain.
Ah...but what is this fleeting little illusion compared to its tender administrations when I really break the world?
The world of numbers and rules and laws. The world I ignore, shatter and protect. It's just an illusion after all. Just a trick of darkness. It's nothing but a glimmer in my eyes, as illusive as my little tearing, biting, cutting, slashing little friends of joy. Ohhhh...and agony.....yes...my little friends of agony and bliss and tearing, beating, slurping, clawing wrongness that is right if you squint really really hard with both eyes closed.
I would hold them close in appreciation but they break so easily, so e-a-s-i-l-y, quickly, joyfully, hilariously often. And then they will wheeze and scream and whine and I will hold them close to stop their little tears of happiness and fear. And then they go pop, and I can feel them, so strangely, so inhuman, so loving, so detestable, little angels that they are, as the remnants of their essence flows into me.
Sometimes the others try to stop me, they throw sticks and stones and call me names, sometimes they go fwoosh as their skin crackles in the fire. Sometimes they gargle and gurgle as I make them breath water, in and out, out and in, till their cheeks make like a little fishy. And sometimes, but only sometimes, not all times, not no times, just the so-so-times, they come and listen and nod and bow and then they learn!
Oh, how I love making them hear, how I love making them feel, the joys, deaths and the rebirths of playing with its little ghosts. And joy, such joy when they sing with me, when they scream in rapture as their heads burst and their grey matter dances with the little ghosts and they feast and go kaaaw kaaaaw. But no no no, that won't do, manners, manners I say, etiquette must be uphold and so I gather the little ghosts and I clean up their faces, mouths and eye-teeth from the icky brains, swipe by swipe, cleaning, wiping, making them all shiny till they go pop again.
But I just love to play with the mud dolls.
Lovely, lovely little mud dolls, with their souls of stone, with those holes in their self and their little gates in their little heads.
Nothing compares to their cheering when I make the world go screeech and when I keep on pulling and twisting till it rips and the little ghosts come out. Oh, you silly mud dolls, you must keep on cheering, no screaming, no crying, if you don't keep on cheering the little ghosts will take your eyes and your mouths and they will eat you with your own teeth one soul at a time.
That's why I help the little mud dolls, I help them see! I make their souls of stone soft and squishy. I make them see the light.
And if we're really lucky, the big ghosts will come.
I can always tell, when everything gets just a little bend. When left becomes right and back then becomes right now, when the clocks can't agree what time it is and when the screams release people. And then I wag my finger at them, naughty big ghosts, naughty, naughty naughty, we're friends, right, wrong, so be good friends, make 1 and 1 equal 2 again or I will have to hug you and pet you and choke you till you are my good friends again.
Because we're friends, big friends, best friends, so we make skin masks together, from the others and the mud dolls and then we have a masquerade like the bloodsuckers, but with more blood and we'll be lords and ladies and everything in between because that's what a masquerade is all about. Oh and the little cheese sticks, no masquerade without the cheese sticks.
Sometimes, all times, most times I can hear people whisper and talk and scream.
I can hear them say mean things behind my back.
They call me crazy, mad and not quite right.
Silly mud dolls.
Silly others.
I'm perfectly fine, finely perfect, Iamely finefect!
I'm not the wrong way around, no no, that's the world, the world is wrong, because we broke it. We broke it hard.
The others should know.
But they say that the abyss has me. They say I'm left-handed, they say I'm stark raving mad.
Silly, stupid, ignorant little magelings.
I'm a mage.
The abyss doesn't have me, look, see, no leash, no made in abyss carved into my flesh.
Fine perfectly am I!
Am Fine I perfectly?
NO! Bad world. Bad bad bad world, stop trying to confuse me with words and lies and all things wrong in you.
I'm not mad.
The abyss has been looking into my soul, they say.
True. True and True.
It has made me mad as a hatter, they say!
Lies, Lies and Lies. I have no hat, had no hat, I don't want their stinking hat!
I'm not mad but when I stare back the poor, helpless, lovely, hurt, hating little thing always cringes. It hiccups and cries and whines and screams.
Poor little abyss.
Let me hug you, pet you, love you. Let me keep you close. Everything is perfectly fine!
POP
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Fandom: Magic the Awakening
Characters: The Abyss, Perfectly fine mage, vampires, werewolves, mages, sleepers, abyssal abberations
------------------------------------------------------------------------
We broke it.
We broke it magnificently, perfectly and absolutely beautifully.
We broke it so completely that even the shards that remained are trying to destroy, love, hurt and embrace us now. We hurt it so bad that even its pain, joy and sadness is trying to kill us. Like a wounded animal it spits and growls and whispers at us. It stalks us, during the night, during the day, no matter where, no matter when.
Because we broke it..
The bloodsuckers have no idea. There lycanthropes haven't got the faintest clue either.
Of course.
How could they? It was so long ago, so incredibly long ago. And it still hurts. It is still in pain, it is still in agony and bliss and joy even to this day. Oh how we tore it apart back then. We ripped it in pieces and left only darkness and no light in its place. The wounds will never heal. They can not heal. We made sure of that, oh yes, it's agony will not fade.
Such a delicious agony it is, oh, how delicious all-hating, all-consuming pleasure.
Sometimes I can feel it as it snaps at my heels, when I weave the lowest possible miracle. Oh, how funnily it barks and growls and hisses. Such a beautifully twisted little thing. I can not avert my eyes from its futile tries to twist my insides out, how it cutely tries to rip my soul straight out of my body. The way its insubstantial fangs attempt to dig into my head to devour my brain.
Ah...but what is this fleeting little illusion compared to its tender administrations when I really break the world?
The world of numbers and rules and laws. The world I ignore, shatter and protect. It's just an illusion after all. Just a trick of darkness. It's nothing but a glimmer in my eyes, as illusive as my little tearing, biting, cutting, slashing little friends of joy. Ohhhh...and agony.....yes...my little friends of agony and bliss and tearing, beating, slurping, clawing wrongness that is right if you squint really really hard with both eyes closed.
I would hold them close in appreciation but they break so easily, so e-a-s-i-l-y, quickly, joyfully, hilariously often. And then they will wheeze and scream and whine and I will hold them close to stop their little tears of happiness and fear. And then they go pop, and I can feel them, so strangely, so inhuman, so loving, so detestable, little angels that they are, as the remnants of their essence flows into me.
Sometimes the others try to stop me, they throw sticks and stones and call me names, sometimes they go fwoosh as their skin crackles in the fire. Sometimes they gargle and gurgle as I make them breath water, in and out, out and in, till their cheeks make like a little fishy. And sometimes, but only sometimes, not all times, not no times, just the so-so-times, they come and listen and nod and bow and then they learn!
Oh, how I love making them hear, how I love making them feel, the joys, deaths and the rebirths of playing with its little ghosts. And joy, such joy when they sing with me, when they scream in rapture as their heads burst and their grey matter dances with the little ghosts and they feast and go kaaaw kaaaaw. But no no no, that won't do, manners, manners I say, etiquette must be uphold and so I gather the little ghosts and I clean up their faces, mouths and eye-teeth from the icky brains, swipe by swipe, cleaning, wiping, making them all shiny till they go pop again.
But I just love to play with the mud dolls.
Lovely, lovely little mud dolls, with their souls of stone, with those holes in their self and their little gates in their little heads.
Nothing compares to their cheering when I make the world go screeech and when I keep on pulling and twisting till it rips and the little ghosts come out. Oh, you silly mud dolls, you must keep on cheering, no screaming, no crying, if you don't keep on cheering the little ghosts will take your eyes and your mouths and they will eat you with your own teeth one soul at a time.
That's why I help the little mud dolls, I help them see! I make their souls of stone soft and squishy. I make them see the light.
And if we're really lucky, the big ghosts will come.
I can always tell, when everything gets just a little bend. When left becomes right and back then becomes right now, when the clocks can't agree what time it is and when the screams release people. And then I wag my finger at them, naughty big ghosts, naughty, naughty naughty, we're friends, right, wrong, so be good friends, make 1 and 1 equal 2 again or I will have to hug you and pet you and choke you till you are my good friends again.
Because we're friends, big friends, best friends, so we make skin masks together, from the others and the mud dolls and then we have a masquerade like the bloodsuckers, but with more blood and we'll be lords and ladies and everything in between because that's what a masquerade is all about. Oh and the little cheese sticks, no masquerade without the cheese sticks.
Sometimes, all times, most times I can hear people whisper and talk and scream.
I can hear them say mean things behind my back.
They call me crazy, mad and not quite right.
Silly mud dolls.
Silly others.
I'm perfectly fine, finely perfect, Iamely finefect!
I'm not the wrong way around, no no, that's the world, the world is wrong, because we broke it. We broke it hard.
The others should know.
But they say that the abyss has me. They say I'm left-handed, they say I'm stark raving mad.
Silly, stupid, ignorant little magelings.
I'm a mage.
The abyss doesn't have me, look, see, no leash, no made in abyss carved into my flesh.
Fine perfectly am I!
Am Fine I perfectly?
NO! Bad world. Bad bad bad world, stop trying to confuse me with words and lies and all things wrong in you.
I'm not mad.
The abyss has been looking into my soul, they say.
True. True and True.
It has made me mad as a hatter, they say!
Lies, Lies and Lies. I have no hat, had no hat, I don't want their stinking hat!
I'm not mad but when I stare back the poor, helpless, lovely, hurt, hating little thing always cringes. It hiccups and cries and whines and screams.
Poor little abyss.
Let me hug you, pet you, love you. Let me keep you close. Everything is perfectly fine!
POP
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Fandom: Magic the Awakening
Characters: The Abyss, Perfectly fine mage, vampires, werewolves, mages, sleepers, abyssal abberations
I am in control and here's your scores.