M 361: Love in a Burning Building
Lilith: Having fun, Merlin?
M: We never really get to enjoy burning cities too often!
L: I’m sorry, I was too busy talking to trees!
M: If I wasn’t wasting time succor to the demons!
L: I can’t hear you, I’ve been waxing poetic, bloody stupid namesake cambion!
M: If you weren’t so imprudent, you’d know the difference between rack-rent cajolery and portents of fate!!
L: You would, too!!
His hands and arms bloody she flies across the ground at him and shoves him thru a fiery wall into a scorching building. Wrestling in a pile of embers, they see amicable smiles on each other’s faces and begin to free themselves, she bites his wound and wipes the wound from his skin, the bloodstains on his arms become ashes in radiance of his tattoos now wrapped around her waist, a black tongue licking the blood from her fingers he is healed, the fire heats to slow rises and waves of sunset, her hair glows red and gold as her shadow hides him from incineration with diamond eyes.
Other buildings stand strong, raging hearts calm, a quiet soul excites, and many warriors check their wounds.
Agnar, giant, checks his bruises as a rare case for him to have any, as Jonak, hexer, wraps his own hand. Braden and Katina, shockers, take a seat and wait for Merlin.
Kat: Odd they socialize like that way. Why is that?
Brad: I don’t know; I think it’s exciting.
Kat punches him in the arm. There is dialogue and exposition among minions.
Nick, deathless, runs into the scene faster than his feet, the gravel rolls beneath his shoe tips as he turns corner, to save Merlin from the burning building, assumption of danger, but Belladonna, plaguer, stops him.
B: You can’t.
N: I’ll stop her and save him!
B: Everything is fine.
N: Nothing is fine! Move!
Belladonna doesn’t move and Nick collides with her to ground, enough that she poisons him in her defense, but her newly strengthened and uncontrolled powers poison him severely, as he falls she attempts to reverse his new death and cannot, his veins blackening roots, hardened tearing thru him as he struggles.
Belladonna: Somebody help him!
Agnar/Braden/Katina/Jonak: He’ll live.
Nick resumes from essence, taking energy from the fires Merlin and Lilith nestle with themselves and smile overly happy, she rises as Nick sneaks thru the rubble, already known by her she hears a first footstep and a second foot twist on the ground, but before Merlin and Nick can communicate, the burning building collapses on the three.
Lobo: He doesn’t know?
Braden: He doesn’t know.
Nick exits in trauma come rage as he crawls from rubble and ember, coughing thru the smoke from his clothes, egregious scars of burning heart and emotion, now in livid accost ire precious little restraint, standing before Lilith wrapping sooty cords around burnt linens, as does Merlin in standing beside her. He realizes they are not enemies, nor the salvation affordable only to Ana, immolator, captured by Sino.
Nick runs again, this time stealing a sword and cutting a horse from wagon to pursue, shouting back at the crew hauling the blade.
N: He has Ana – I run him down – with or without you!
L: AFTER THEM AND YOU’RE DRAGON FOOD IF YOU LOSE HIM!
The wolf-men run toward the end of the city, howls gather beasts in entourage into the sea hills to the sound of tears of those who’ve survived, the hooves of horses of Braden’s impromptu cavalry, and flames that toss like ship sails as Lilith escapes Merlin thru a wall of fire into another dimension of black fire and winds of darkness.
/ch
14 February 2017
07 February 2017
Contrivant
If Cronus permits, I'm donating O+ when this entry goes live. Speaking of which, did you know you can save more lives donating blood to RedCross than repeating #FakeNews you've heard on the tv/web? Click to learn more. and follow @RedCross
I'm not going to generally be worried about this next part, you can quote me, i feel safe saying what I do.
The spectator patriotism of raunchy dissent from liberals over the rule of law that approaches their fair-whether sense of smell, considering the last eight morose years, is absolutely delightful. Uninterrupted sentences giving me liberty to not be interrupted is a bliss, i rarely get to argue that the problem is endemic of the Tourette's, and not the other way around. I forget what I was saying, moreover, it sparks the manipulative side of me, as it does the motivating row in political diatribe, like an outright tantrum when it's just a game.
I'm in a reading mood, perhaps I'll start with the pale classics and work my way clockwise.
Too much acid burdens the skin, weakens the body's cells inside and out to cancer, and we must be clean. So we drink the proper ph water and eat the proper foods, in too much meat we could scour the brain, but what if it were not enough vegetation, all that growth needs. It would take years for me to taper-off into eating only old growth, the remnants aiding life. What I feel is mine, my opinions, you cannot have them, I am not a sign on your journey, there is no perfect score to an incomplete test written by assuredly an imperfect person. If they cannot harvest, and knows not why, then might must be an option.
That must be it, the masses don't contribute to creating the remedial tests they take, whereas life is a test, they contribute as much.
I hope this finds you well, like taxes or stupid opinions, it's a tea whistle added to a crashing spaceship. There was this talk of fascism, not being sarcastic, I just don't think you ever adjusted out of the irony equation of a larger function. Fascism is more akin to corporatism and union prevention, nobody came to take your right of assembly, nobody came (hold on, didn't mean to make this so adult) and enforced a welfare-state that legitimized generational theft on a governmental level and with precision at an educational level. I'm getting ahead of myself, the healthcare companies wrote the healthcare laws, the lenders wrote the lending laws, the taxers wrote the tax laws, and it doesn't apply to them, that's literally fascism. You could get a stolen café espresso on your way out of Mussolini's house.
I'm not really giving anything away, i have the psychic version memorized and the physical version hasn't been written.
You can't hold your breath forever, you can't speak forever, breathing out is breathing in, and vice versa, this is equanimity. Active breathing proves much and learns little, stress brings deeper breaths, you can't be surprised at how others breathe unless you weren't paying attention. This starts to border on the tantra. but if you can't breathe i'd breath for you.
I'm not going to generally be worried about this next part, you can quote me, i feel safe saying what I do.
The spectator patriotism of raunchy dissent from liberals over the rule of law that approaches their fair-whether sense of smell, considering the last eight morose years, is absolutely delightful. Uninterrupted sentences giving me liberty to not be interrupted is a bliss, i rarely get to argue that the problem is endemic of the Tourette's, and not the other way around. I forget what I was saying, moreover, it sparks the manipulative side of me, as it does the motivating row in political diatribe, like an outright tantrum when it's just a game.
I'm in a reading mood, perhaps I'll start with the pale classics and work my way clockwise.
Too much acid burdens the skin, weakens the body's cells inside and out to cancer, and we must be clean. So we drink the proper ph water and eat the proper foods, in too much meat we could scour the brain, but what if it were not enough vegetation, all that growth needs. It would take years for me to taper-off into eating only old growth, the remnants aiding life. What I feel is mine, my opinions, you cannot have them, I am not a sign on your journey, there is no perfect score to an incomplete test written by assuredly an imperfect person. If they cannot harvest, and knows not why, then might must be an option.
That must be it, the masses don't contribute to creating the remedial tests they take, whereas life is a test, they contribute as much.
I hope this finds you well, like taxes or stupid opinions, it's a tea whistle added to a crashing spaceship. There was this talk of fascism, not being sarcastic, I just don't think you ever adjusted out of the irony equation of a larger function. Fascism is more akin to corporatism and union prevention, nobody came to take your right of assembly, nobody came (hold on, didn't mean to make this so adult) and enforced a welfare-state that legitimized generational theft on a governmental level and with precision at an educational level. I'm getting ahead of myself, the healthcare companies wrote the healthcare laws, the lenders wrote the lending laws, the taxers wrote the tax laws, and it doesn't apply to them, that's literally fascism. You could get a stolen café espresso on your way out of Mussolini's house.
I'm not really giving anything away, i have the psychic version memorized and the physical version hasn't been written.
You can't hold your breath forever, you can't speak forever, breathing out is breathing in, and vice versa, this is equanimity. Active breathing proves much and learns little, stress brings deeper breaths, you can't be surprised at how others breathe unless you weren't paying attention. This starts to border on the tantra. but if you can't breathe i'd breath for you.
"Change - and everything is change; Nothing can be held on to - to the degree that you go with a stream, you see, you are still, you are flowing with it, but to the degree you resist the stream, then you notice that the current is rushing past you and fighting you. So swim with it, go with it, and you’re there. You’re at rest." ~ Alan Watts
02 February 2017
Curses / Maldition
I must've been tired so I wake before the three alarms set to make sure I do anyway. Sleeping too warm without sweating, I need water, my head is dry from ear to ear, I turn a slow tide into movements into taking a drink of a mixture to drink before a workout next to the bed, my blood warms and get hungry before I can cool, feeling starved I rock myself out of bed and walk to the hall, the main room, the kitchen. I'm staring at the fridge again, the light actually, wondering if I should be lost in fridgelandia with headphones and music to help me choose, not a good idea to have breakfast carbs, too much effort to make bacon so soon before having to wake up, a whey powder mixer would be in order, something filling to take a nap. It hits my stomach like straw in a furnace, two and a half hours is almost like three i convince myself and I close the cold door.
Only a streak of night sky enters the room, it is too late for me to stop it, if I had only been rested I could prevent this. A man is standing next to me in my kitchen, I blink and get attacked before I can open my eyelids in less than a second, the fear is enough to make me faint tears into every part of me.
I wake in my own blood, it's everywhere, and I'm late for work. I put down anything red over it, wiping counters, hoping to call it laundry day if anyone were to notice. I put on my 'I'm late' sports clothes and run to the subway. Seven long stops away and the entire trip I can't stop looking at other passengers by the reflection of the windows. Flipping thru the songs on my phonecard I realize that my headphones are broken so i throw them away, distracted with another reflection I miss my trainstop, so i run to the street to angrily spend good money on a cab. Distracted again my phone vibrates but there's no ringtone, I must've turned it down checking the headphones...nope, audio broken, I'll have to get a new phone, it's my friend at work calling.
I've been scratching at the glass and the cab driver is hollering at me for the fare, he pounds on the plastic wall and I pay him with my hard earned cash, I should spend it on something else, "i grew up in a town with a butcher" I tell the fat cabbie as I stop to notice the plethora of buttons and stickers in the middle eastern versions of classic redneck slogans. I bounce out of the seat, no tip, it's, my, money.
Suddenly I'm in board meeting on the top floor, standing around one of the longest tables I've ever seen, holding a clipboard ready to take notes, I look at my paper while most are trying not to look out the windows, I see the city, I see the first letters of each word followed by a drunken drifting cursive, and when my friend notices he gives one of those faces and I hold it to my chest. The CEO is giving a tirade about the tirade of another CEO at another company and on a good day I strive not to throw him thru the glass, I'm not really understanding the synergy message and nothing can stop me from scratching at the back of the clipboard.
I'm leaving the meeting and I don't know how things ended, there's my friend, he's smiling and agreeing with me somehow, my automated response must be appropriate, I'm getting pieces of a joke about bipartisan politics, I know how this one will go, I'll take the bait, I take the bait and nod, I begin saying the first word that comes to mind and in the first sound he's praising me, I feel like a dog that only gets his own 'name' and things like "bacon" or "outside" as he speedreads his own dialogue.
We waited for the small C-Suite elevator and now we're heading down ten floors to the plebeian interchange, before lowering to the role-playing fantasy that are the misty peon levels, where we'll swipe a card for great company coffee, one of the perks, it doesn't taste great and I don't know why, but my friend shares empathy with my facial expression, I wish someone would tell me why there are so few people, those people cluttered by the elevator door have the right idea.
We queue for the lower levels drop, my friend punches me in the should asking questions, harmless question that help him learn more about me, I answer and realize my hearing is out, water on the ear after a cold morning perhaps, damn, my headphones weren't broken, the elevator fills and fills too much, my friend and I have to wait for the next one. We wait, we enter, the doors close, I tear into my friend and in a struggle the guy I know works in the mail room, what was he thinking being here, this is my elevator, good old what's his name, there is blood everywhere. I'm sitting cross-legged on the floor of the elevator eating brains, I press the emergency stop button and a red light takes over the white halogen. The elevator music is back, one of those popular annoying songs that everyone sings when coworkers go out, recreated with a piano and sounds of bells, not as bad as them singing, my friend is delicious, I bet that guy is delicious.
It's time to stand up and brush myself off with gutsy hands that make more of a mess, I'm very calm, this is never happened before, never this calm and never an elevator bloodbath, i think i'm almost smiling, I've to abandon my entire life and run from the law because of that camera in the corner of the elevator, but i'm smiling, this is nice, i wonder how many cameras are in a building on average. I pry open the door, i'm kinda stronger now, i'm already hungry now, i know this feeling now so much i cannot forget it ever again, i peek around the doorwell, i lick my fingers then make a dash into the empty area, i steal a coat to cover myself and leap back out of the small office.
I can't remember the night before, i feel terrible not knowing, i'm in another cab tapping my fingers on the seat, bouncing my heel on the floor, at my building i'm so ready to leap from the window of the cab, no tip, it's his money, but i need the cash now more than he does, into my apartment, the mess is still there, this is damning evidence that adds to the cameras, i mail my important things in carboard to a PO box, i'm prepared for this sadly from online paranoia, wow i was really paranoid, i grab my three, count them three, split kits, my tech, i'm not even scarred, not knowing what happened is giving me more fear than anyone, i hear footsteps in the hall, i prepare for intruders, with none I leave, this life is over and i'm good with this, this is absurd, i just start walking to the worst part of the city that i can remember, i'm already starving again
/
Only a streak of night sky enters the room, it is too late for me to stop it, if I had only been rested I could prevent this. A man is standing next to me in my kitchen, I blink and get attacked before I can open my eyelids in less than a second, the fear is enough to make me faint tears into every part of me.
I wake in my own blood, it's everywhere, and I'm late for work. I put down anything red over it, wiping counters, hoping to call it laundry day if anyone were to notice. I put on my 'I'm late' sports clothes and run to the subway. Seven long stops away and the entire trip I can't stop looking at other passengers by the reflection of the windows. Flipping thru the songs on my phonecard I realize that my headphones are broken so i throw them away, distracted with another reflection I miss my trainstop, so i run to the street to angrily spend good money on a cab. Distracted again my phone vibrates but there's no ringtone, I must've turned it down checking the headphones...nope, audio broken, I'll have to get a new phone, it's my friend at work calling.
I've been scratching at the glass and the cab driver is hollering at me for the fare, he pounds on the plastic wall and I pay him with my hard earned cash, I should spend it on something else, "i grew up in a town with a butcher" I tell the fat cabbie as I stop to notice the plethora of buttons and stickers in the middle eastern versions of classic redneck slogans. I bounce out of the seat, no tip, it's, my, money.
Suddenly I'm in board meeting on the top floor, standing around one of the longest tables I've ever seen, holding a clipboard ready to take notes, I look at my paper while most are trying not to look out the windows, I see the city, I see the first letters of each word followed by a drunken drifting cursive, and when my friend notices he gives one of those faces and I hold it to my chest. The CEO is giving a tirade about the tirade of another CEO at another company and on a good day I strive not to throw him thru the glass, I'm not really understanding the synergy message and nothing can stop me from scratching at the back of the clipboard.
I'm leaving the meeting and I don't know how things ended, there's my friend, he's smiling and agreeing with me somehow, my automated response must be appropriate, I'm getting pieces of a joke about bipartisan politics, I know how this one will go, I'll take the bait, I take the bait and nod, I begin saying the first word that comes to mind and in the first sound he's praising me, I feel like a dog that only gets his own 'name' and things like "bacon" or "outside" as he speedreads his own dialogue.
We waited for the small C-Suite elevator and now we're heading down ten floors to the plebeian interchange, before lowering to the role-playing fantasy that are the misty peon levels, where we'll swipe a card for great company coffee, one of the perks, it doesn't taste great and I don't know why, but my friend shares empathy with my facial expression, I wish someone would tell me why there are so few people, those people cluttered by the elevator door have the right idea.
We queue for the lower levels drop, my friend punches me in the should asking questions, harmless question that help him learn more about me, I answer and realize my hearing is out, water on the ear after a cold morning perhaps, damn, my headphones weren't broken, the elevator fills and fills too much, my friend and I have to wait for the next one. We wait, we enter, the doors close, I tear into my friend and in a struggle the guy I know works in the mail room, what was he thinking being here, this is my elevator, good old what's his name, there is blood everywhere. I'm sitting cross-legged on the floor of the elevator eating brains, I press the emergency stop button and a red light takes over the white halogen. The elevator music is back, one of those popular annoying songs that everyone sings when coworkers go out, recreated with a piano and sounds of bells, not as bad as them singing, my friend is delicious, I bet that guy is delicious.
It's time to stand up and brush myself off with gutsy hands that make more of a mess, I'm very calm, this is never happened before, never this calm and never an elevator bloodbath, i think i'm almost smiling, I've to abandon my entire life and run from the law because of that camera in the corner of the elevator, but i'm smiling, this is nice, i wonder how many cameras are in a building on average. I pry open the door, i'm kinda stronger now, i'm already hungry now, i know this feeling now so much i cannot forget it ever again, i peek around the doorwell, i lick my fingers then make a dash into the empty area, i steal a coat to cover myself and leap back out of the small office.
I can't remember the night before, i feel terrible not knowing, i'm in another cab tapping my fingers on the seat, bouncing my heel on the floor, at my building i'm so ready to leap from the window of the cab, no tip, it's his money, but i need the cash now more than he does, into my apartment, the mess is still there, this is damning evidence that adds to the cameras, i mail my important things in carboard to a PO box, i'm prepared for this sadly from online paranoia, wow i was really paranoid, i grab my three, count them three, split kits, my tech, i'm not even scarred, not knowing what happened is giving me more fear than anyone, i hear footsteps in the hall, i prepare for intruders, with none I leave, this life is over and i'm good with this, this is absurd, i just start walking to the worst part of the city that i can remember, i'm already starving again
/
01 February 2017
Las Guerras Tinieblas
Darkness and the flowing water, a current and cascade of noise so constant it seems forgotten, the sound of pressurized hydraulic machinery releases a burst of gas unlocking several large bolts one by one, air exits the doorway and an a shadowy figure enters thru it and approaches a much larger bolder shadow-outlined man.
Master
What news bring you that none will speak?
Messenger
Many breaking at point of force that met the translucent at the dawn.
Master
Make sure they have to be their wisest forge and make them allied by the nearest animal regiment.
Messenger
Sure as so, but the nearest breach of they duty bound by westerly a two phase sight.
Master
How make for sign is the widow wall, can they be given one returned?
Messenger
Sure as so, my shadow, but destined will and have for known at the transparencies numbered, fighting be, for a skirmish as the red waters of the balanced, the many heads on the shore.
Master
By an imbalance of their account this to it I'm sure.
Messenger
As so, and yet your kin, ....the
Master
Soon defeated, to match my heart.
Messenger
The, soon defeated, by numbers merely missing and not by, the count is blind.
Master
Then digging graves looking down fly the cemetery, or you will sow what they reap.
Messenger
These are not told by the other voice to tell you naught they are likely here.
Master
You could've led with that, what is wanted?
Messenger
Missing is the report, not made, not relayed.
Master
Bade make worry tales will hurry alacrity, if not for this darkness, accursed darkness.
Messenger
Forgivances, my shadow, lost at the borderlands by swimming beneath the grass.
Master
With the humans?
Messenger
Yes, with the humans, my shadow, soon as so, would that it were.
Master
Send half of the oldest wave at the demons in the sunset region, do by time what showing their tallest make to figure behind a closed tribe, closed mind you.
Messenger
Say what make I at our fangs, my shadow?
Master
Counted, ...and I will count them approached I. There will be a mirror by the voicing animal.
Messenger
To voice?
Master
To have voiced made so when they finish digging, I will bring them what I find to plant. Maybe then will they remember my promise. Then reflect with mine, we might see each other in this darkness by makings done. Go now, relay. Until there is light.
Messenger
Until there is light.
\\\
\
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