Everyday Under the Sun [Knocking on Heaven's Door]

[danakir]

Chapter of Vigor: Of Resilience in the Pursuit of One's Leisurely Time


Alright, so perhaps it wasn't all that inaccurate to say she had a problem saying no to an handsome face. After all, how could she blame herself, that boy was the cutest thing she saw in the last few years, with that firm rear and those slender arms and his short impish brown hair...


She sighed dreamily, ignoring the volcano roaring viciously around her as she stood on the path leading downward toward the Heart of Ignition, sanctuary of The One Hidden in Ashen Copper Dust. Thick black smoke obscured her vision more and more the deeper she went and her lungs felt so irritated, thankfully the boy had gifted her a wonderful charm to safeguard her from this particular hazard, though not from the intense heat that distorted her vision and drew a profusion of sweat from her skin.


She was soaked and yet her throat was dry as her romantic perspectives, slick water riveting down her taunt athletic body and...


Stop. This. Right. Now.


Perv.


As much as she would love admiring herself in *that* particular way, she understood that it was not a healthy practice (onanism aside, she wasn't above that indulgence, not yet)


Truth be told this was all her fault once again that she banged against the rusty metal doors leading to the forgotten temple. Once again she had let her desire for physical comfort and the sweet sound of boyish moans... *cough* direct her behavior.


Nevertheless since she made it this far she might as well go on now that she had made her way to this forsaken place, the sealed gates heaving under the weight of her assault and at last giving way, revealing to her the putrescent decay of air that had not left its confinement for decades, centuries, perhaps even longer.


The enigmatic residence of the Volcano-God was rather creative if stern, black steel heavy with the weight of ashes and almost incendiary upon the sole of her sandals forming a long hallway leading to an altar-throne sculpted from the finest ebony and depicting scenes of a... thing.. looming over the village down the volcano. Most of them had been erased, scratched off and desecrated in an act of vicious blasphemy, she could never know what had been lost but she had her own doubts as to the kind of activities that would have 'graced' her sight had she been of another fortune.


She took a step forward and spoke provocatively "Come forth, you stupid God, I've got a message from that boy who's supposed to be your sacrifice, the deal's off!" she declared without the slightest hesitation! Why negotiate when she fully intended to teach a lesson to this corrupted and cruel diety anyw...


A loud voice boomed as the doors slammed shut and from the very walls dripped a viscous copper substance, as if melted metal boiling over, thick noxious fumes even worse than the ones from earlier assaulting all her senses and pooling into the form of an enigmatic... woman?


"You're a GIRL?" she said with a raised eyebrow before adding "No offense intended, but you might want to consider changing your name, the whole thing sounds really manly. Plus you look more like a Sparkling Copper Stinky Babe to me... just saying." of course she was only messing around, even taunting her foe.


Soon after she would hit the door with a loud cracking noise, the Goddess had shown her she was not to be triffled with with a clarity that was unmatched.


"You little lightkins... so arrogant..." she hissed in a voice more like boiling metal than anything remotely human.


Yeah, she could tell now, that pretty boy would have to lick her wounds.


She was really looking forward to it.


--------------------------


Felt like it. Feel free to comment if you wanna xD

 

[Devlin]

Cool story bro, I liked it much yo

 

[Tabby]

 

[danakir]

Chapter of Faith: Gazing Into Flickering Candles


In the distance, there is a place called the field of broken dreams, starring into the grim face of death.


In the distance, there is a place where once stood the warmth of a home, barely a shadow imperceptible.


In the distance, there is a place never forgotten and simpler times fondly remembered, but they are trivial.


In the distance, there is a place of thinly-veiled reminiscence which cannot be, for surely it would slay hope.


There is the whispering echo of an old reverie, the wishful thinking of a fool.


The stump of the once mighty tree gave her a seat upon the tall hill watching over the fallen city. No longer any bonfire nor any screams, a deafening silence from which there was no escape, death everlasting and an helpless hero.


So much within her screamed to go there, to do something, anything, but doing so would be a waste of her newfound gift. She was weak, still heavily wounded and heaving, were her poorly bandaged wounds infected now? She could not tell, a burning fever clouded her judgement both natural and somatic in nature.


Barely she swallowed back an anguished cry, pressing her right hand tightly to her face, digging her nails into her dark skin clashing so strongly with the pale moonlight of the night. So weak and tormented even with this glorious divinity pulsating within her and calling for justice and righteous dictates, for a blazing sword that could avenge all that had been lost today. But she had no sword, only a shattered blade she had discarded long ago now. With only her bare hands to defend herself against the overwhelming might of this... Deathlord? Yes, if she remembered correctly the dark one who had bested her called him such. Indeed, with only her bare hands, what could she do against such?


Nothing. Powerless. So powerless. So meaningless and insignificant and tiny and wretched, even with this great fountain of essence inside. She stood suddenly, screaming silently at the sky, not daring make a sound but needing the release, such frustration and anguish boiling within her, a conflict she could barely endure. Her heart screamed for blood and to right was had been wronged but her mind told her that doing so would only waste the gift that had been bestowed upon her.


This conflict inside only endured as she circled the stump, walking for hours, pensive and fidgety, her gaze still broken with the knowledge of her failure.


Deep breathing, lungs filled with the cool air still thick with the perfume of her home, yet a distant memory of what was only a precious few hours ago, her eyes filled with tears as she sunk down to her knees, the heavy burden of guilt and shame and self-loathing threatening to overtake her, even as she summoned every reserve of willpower within her to resist.


Yet there was still the Unconquered Sun and His plan. Perhaps... perhaps he would guide her to salvation, even as she herself could not forgive herself. Wiping her tears and yet trembling with the strong emotions swirling within her as if a vortex of murky waters she swore grimly "One day I shall return here and things will be different. Now please, merciful Lord of the Gods, grant me guidance." as she stayed there kneeling in prayer she felt the overwhelming urge to go further east, deep into the wild untouched lands, where the trees yet held sovereignty over man.


She took to the roads leading to those thick forests rich with heavy canopy of leaves, never turning back to face the lost Thorn.


The lost home.


Even as we stand proud and smug over the past, the memories they haunt and they shape and they do not let go of this vicegrip upon our chest. Enslaved by emotions and darkly colored loss, such a weak thing inside. Change without begins from within.


There is always a price.

 

[danakir]

Another Story


Chapter of Grief: The Moment of Shattered Bells


Standing on the rooftop of the glass towers of Chiaroscuro


There is a shadow light as feather and piercing moonlight


There he walks as if a bird of prey upon the stained glass


There he slinks inside as if a toxin swallowed with tea


There is no escape, his gaze knows no mercy


Death is afoot here


There is the flash of a needle, gleaming brightly


Death is afoot here


Smiling and screaming


Death is afoot here


Not a single sound uttered


Death is afoot here


Blood on the hands


Death steps back


There were many deaths that night.

 

[Devlin]

I approve of these

 

[danakir]

Feeling really creative tonight and with no outlet, so you get lots of those! Sorry! xD


Chapter of Infatuation: Love Makes No Sense


The fresh pond rippling around her


Perhaps watching is a bit unfair?


She knows no better, she's an innocent


I can't help myself, am I sinning Lord?


If it feels right, can it be wrong?


May I trust my own feelings?


There is such heat inside of me


This passion is your gift


Worthy of this would I be


Should I find the courage


To come forth eloquently


And whisper suavely to her


Sweet emerald Lady of the Lake


I steal you away, do not resist


It would break my fragile heart


And then this embrace of mine


Feel that familiar perfume


So close as to even touch


Perhaps this my weakness


I am a woman of a thousand


A thousand words just and fair


A thousand shields immutable


A thousand places


A thousand people


A thousand days


A thousand nights


A thousand hearts


To give away frivolously