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#femslashfeb2018
She’s kind Isn’t she? So many others Look and see Only her hardness, Cold gaze And colder words. You can’t deny That she’s cold. Dour and stern Always to the point Reminding you incessantly Of the mission. But there’s more, So much more. Details matter And usefulness To you all And her especially. You matter too, Silly girl, To her. She didn’t end That call. She let you Fall to pieces, Pour your heart out, Over another And she said You mattered. She listens. Always. About flowers. About animals. About that world And your want To see it Just once. There’s more too Than just listening. You have it, A precious gift, Tucked away That photo there Of this world. When people ask What it is That draws you, That attracts you, You can’t deny That there’s looks. But there’s more So much more, Because she’s kind Isn’t she.
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Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 7:03 PM UTC
aondeug
There's more to her
She’s kind Isn’t she? So many others Look and see Only her hardness, Cold gaze And colder words. You can’t deny That she’s cold. Dour and stern Always to the point Reminding you incessantly Of the mission. But there’s more, So much more. Details matter And usefulness To you all And her especially. You matter too, Silly girl, To her. She didn’t end That call. She let you Fall to pieces, Pour your heart out, Over another And she said You mattered. She listens. Always. About flowers. About animals. About that world And your want To see it Just once. There’s more too Than just listening. You have it, A precious gift, Tucked away That photo there Of this world. When people ask What it is That draws you, That attracts you, You can’t deny That there’s looks. But there’s more So much more, Because she’s kind Isn’t she.
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How did it even start, This fight? The Sage of Holy Wind Can’t really say, she never can. As always she is drawn By the Wind’s beckoning call. Drawn by whispered words Of the Flashing Light’s fight And her devilish foe. That’s all she needs. On those same gusts She rushes As she can To the Light’s side. A sudden guest In the grueling conflict She alarms them both, The foe and the knight. With a curse from both And a grin from her The combat continues With desperation. The foe has six arms And three faces All on one head, A dreadful asura. He swings six swords With fiendish speed And sings a song Of hate that cuts deep into the earth Tearing it from her feet, The King’s Blade. She leaps up Taking to the air And calls down lights That crash With all the fury of thunder Sped on by her own song And Hope’s dire will. Hope to protect. Hope to save. Hope to destroy. His shout shakes the light From the skies And he lunges forth, A dance of blades Seeking gore and more. His speed is great But greater still Is the Wind’s. A gusting wave pushes him Back and down. He is thrown from the air, The Fate Spinning Winds’ domain. Grinning the Blade dives Down and down With righteous fury And the blue glow Of purest Light’s intent. The ****** is sure, strong And cracks like thunder. The raging storm Of Grimm’s good servant, The Light’s own sage. There is more to him Than shouts and swords And six arms though. There’s a lack of care And a burning hatred For all the King’s men. Many would run Or raise up a shield Guarding themselves from death. But he welcomes it Letting the blade run deep, Piercing him through and mortally so. Then he catches the arm That wielded the blade And pulls down the Blade. The fight seems over and done From the Holy Wind’s high place Her home, the air, But a screech rings out. Four devious daggers Made of Darkness Claim the King’s Blade, Rending her flesh And digging in deadly. She is tossed aside Like a toy Bleeding and cursing And ****** The asura ****** too Rises up Rage incarnate Blind and dumb And unrelenting To finish his job. He raises up An arm and then another Before the shocked sage Buffets him with a wind. Tossed he turns Terrific rage building more And directs it at her, The sage unbelieving. Like a shock of silver Cold and quick To the gut and the heart Is the fear mounting. Fear for her, Fear of loss Of a friend, a lover dear, Known for a thousands years And hopefully a thousand more. The Wind’s sing of necessity And Fate. Of life and death, An air of change, Unyielding in its march. The tune is so welcome Normally, Though it seems so cruel. Now it is dreaded, Disbelieved. Now it makes her pause, Turning to look Searching for life In her partner dear. Finding that hesitation The asura jumps up high Blades ready And burning with demon fire, But his arms are pulled back And he is pulled down By deep red chains Of crimson fluidity, Of blood. They coil and cut Like blades Slicing an arm free Then two, then three, But he breaks free Shrugging off bonds With a scream. From the floor she rises The Flashing Light Eyes aflame With red fury Brilliant and ominous As the Red Moon. From the Flashing Light spills Blood like a torrent Shaped into swords As would the Light be. The sound of his chant Is cut short By a wave of dark Butterflies fluttering from her. The sound of her chant Rings out Sending forth a wave Of blood made blades. Skewering, rending Utterly ending the foe. She rises a victor Dripping blood, And her wounds close Fed blood. She rises a vampire revealed And fear falls In the Holy Wind’s Heart.
0
Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 7:02 PM UTC
aondeug
A Vampire's Light
How did it even start, This fight? The Sage of Holy Wind Can’t really say, she never can. As always she is drawn By the Wind’s beckoning call. Drawn by whispered words Of the Flashing Light’s fight And her devilish foe. That’s all she needs. On those same gusts She rushes As she can To the Light’s side. A sudden guest In the grueling conflict She alarms them both, The foe and the knight. With a curse from both And a grin from her The combat continues With desperation. The foe has six arms And three faces All on one head, A dreadful asura. He swings six swords With fiendish speed And sings a song Of hate that cuts deep into the earth Tearing it from her feet, The King’s Blade. She leaps up Taking to the air And calls down lights That crash With all the fury of thunder Sped on by her own song And Hope’s dire will. Hope to protect. Hope to save. Hope to destroy. His shout shakes the light From the skies And he lunges forth, A dance of blades Seeking gore and more. His speed is great But greater still Is the Wind’s. A gusting wave pushes him Back and down. He is thrown from the air, The Fate Spinning Winds’ domain. Grinning the Blade dives Down and down With righteous fury And the blue glow Of purest Light’s intent. The ****** is sure, strong And cracks like thunder. The raging storm Of Grimm’s good servant, The Light’s own sage. There is more to him Than shouts and swords And six arms though. There’s a lack of care And a burning hatred For all the King’s men. Many would run Or raise up a shield Guarding themselves from death. But he welcomes it Letting the blade run deep, Piercing him through and mortally so. Then he catches the arm That wielded the blade And pulls down the Blade. The fight seems over and done From the Holy Wind’s high place Her home, the air, But a screech rings out. Four devious daggers Made of Darkness Claim the King’s Blade, Rending her flesh And digging in deadly. She is tossed aside Like a toy Bleeding and cursing And ****** The asura ****** too Rises up Rage incarnate Blind and dumb And unrelenting To finish his job. He raises up An arm and then another Before the shocked sage Buffets him with a wind. Tossed he turns Terrific rage building more And directs it at her, The sage unbelieving. Like a shock of silver Cold and quick To the gut and the heart Is the fear mounting. Fear for her, Fear of loss Of a friend, a lover dear, Known for a thousands years And hopefully a thousand more. The Wind’s sing of necessity And Fate. Of life and death, An air of change, Unyielding in its march. The tune is so welcome Normally, Though it seems so cruel. Now it is dreaded, Disbelieved. Now it makes her pause, Turning to look Searching for life In her partner dear. Finding that hesitation The asura jumps up high Blades ready And burning with demon fire, But his arms are pulled back And he is pulled down By deep red chains Of crimson fluidity, Of blood. They coil and cut Like blades Slicing an arm free Then two, then three, But he breaks free Shrugging off bonds With a scream. From the floor she rises The Flashing Light Eyes aflame With red fury Brilliant and ominous As the Red Moon. From the Flashing Light spills Blood like a torrent Shaped into swords As would the Light be. The sound of his chant Is cut short By a wave of dark Butterflies fluttering from her. The sound of her chant Rings out Sending forth a wave Of blood made blades. Skewering, rending Utterly ending the foe. She rises a victor Dripping blood, And her wounds close Fed blood. She rises a vampire revealed And fear falls In the Holy Wind’s Heart.
Continue reading...
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