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The only things worth speaking about in this world are black. Pitch beyond measure, to much so for words. Only when something cannot properly be spoken of, is it truly worth speaking about. That was what Dusker realized as the black cloaked body hit the floor in front of him. It's what anyone would realize at this moment. Having done this, could he ever truly talk to anyone again? Bones rattled along the ground for a moment, then settled like dice. Incredible!
It had fallen apart.
Dusker decided there and then that he would pick it up. He wouldn't mull it over between his heart, his mind and his fear. He would just do it without a thought. Just action. He picked up the scythe. A huge thing, even in terms of scythes. But not unwieldy. It felt like regular wood, just gnarled oak. Somehow it was all the more terrifying without the damp, deathy touch he'd imagined. Its long wooden handle bore letters scratched into it again and again.
'Devour' it said, but he dared not read it out loud.
The long twisted blade felt like just like metal, but it was metal that had taken every life. Every life but his, anyway.
They said it couldn't be done.
“They said it couldn't be done.” He said to the figure on the ground. He knelt by it now, and it just lay there in pieces wrapped in its spider-silk cloak. “Bet you never thought someone was gunna get you, huh?” He grabbed the cloak, his hands were shaking but he pretended they weren't. He was brave today.
The cloth felt as if it had rested on bones for longer than he'd been alive. It felt as if it may have once been the highest quality fabric, but it was dirty. Worn and old. The scythe sat like a burden in his hands, and the cloak like a stain on his arm. Only the darkest things were worth speaking about. There were no words, of course. But there you had it. He couldn't care about the crops or the weather. His neighbors squabbles either. Just look what he was holding, for godsake!
There would be no talking anymore. He put on the cloak. Only dancing among the battlefields. And cutting. Wasn't much that was more important than that.
And the soldiers weren't going to kill themselves.
I'm trying i'm trying~ i'm making I'll try too slowly up my posting. At least once a day for a bit. Then I'll up that too twice, then four, then 8 and so on. Until eventually I wake up one morning and find out that I am actually an Idiot hero. On some quest too cheat on his gf or raise affection of 5 women who conveniently live in my the same dorm as me. In which I only have 100 days to seduce them all.
Remon wrote:
Now we can dominate the porn industry, camera industry, AND the world!
YomToxic wrote:
YOU BETTER STAY ALIVE OR ELSE I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND RAPE YOU DEAD.
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Thu Aug 08, 2013 1:28 am
Rem
Glitchy
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Re: Pick it up.
We may assume. Wasn't that the first fight in Dante's Inferno or something?
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