kiribourne

[kiribourne]

[kiribourne]

commission for @kiribourne

[kiribourne]

@necroarchy​ REPORTED: IT'S JUST MINDING ITS OWN BUSINESS, THE POOR STUPID THING which meanders down the path she would be set upon, its crimes no more heinous than to possess a skull empty of anything but the greasiest remains of a brain and also a body-full of bristling saronite shards jammed between the slots of its ribcage and other interesting crannies by order of the Lich King himself.

FLY AT DAWN;;RETURN BY DUSK         TELL ME EVERYTHING;;    

The true MONSTER was the puppeteer behind the strings, of course, that which strung up the memories of a loved one and forced their decaying corpse to dance, that which insulted the efforts of LIFE,                that desecrated creation and left it festering for others to find and mourn.       AND SO THE RAVEN SAW ALL, (OH AGENT OF CREATION), WHO ARE YOU TO JUDGE YOUR MIRROR?         FLY BACK TO YOUR MASTER AND WAIT FOR ORDERS. Vile - disgusting, bile running ragged in the throat that he knew the detestable creature would devour if it had a jaw to clamp down.           The fog is rolling in...                         They would forgive him for overstepping, as he could not fathom the wish for this travesty to continue shambling its disparage. He’s in front of it, the disgusting scum, silently and skillfully, a gloved palm already extracting a madman’s whispering stone with a violent jerk, a splintering crack filling the space where silence used to reign.

                 “Be at ease, you won’t suffer anymore.                         May wrenching you from their wretched grasp let you find peace,                but  I can’t look at you any longer.”

The whispers could not reach him, everything they told him, he already knew, for that was his burden, was MEMORY, was KNOWLEDGE, and with the precision of a bird removing each limb from a writhing insect, the poor, poor thing would first be dismantled, allowing no struggle, then set ablaze with every spiritually cleansing means known to the Grand Line.

          “May your master return to the frozen bog they manifested from.”

                                                                                                             For the CREATION of it all;;                                                          THEY HAVE ALREADY LOST THEIR SENSES;;

[kiribourne]

[kiribourne]

@seraphiixa​ REPORTED: "I'm Rear Admiral Calimeras Lyra, and these are our arrests for the day," she said, gesturing to the criminals the Marines had rounded up at the port city. "Who are you and what do you need with them? We're transferring them to the brig shortly."

FLY AT DAWN;;RETURN BY DUSK         TELL ME EVERYTHING;;    

 Garish crimson over midnight black, the two piece suit he wore was a vibrant take on the average agent’s chosen pristine garb, coupled with red-washed shades that blocked the full extent of his expression from view.     A quick scan of the detestable faces of the damned group that had stepped too close to heaven’s gates, and the raven’s mind was quick to work.            For his duty to creation was to recall it, and so his memory would not fail. These individuals, however, were useless, but he committed their information all the same, so as to whisper in the god’s ears that nothing was amiss in their divine realm.

                     “Cipher Pol, CP8.                                            Raim Radbourne.       I apologize for the intrusion, Rear Admiral, but if I could just shadow you a bit longer so I can assess all the details of this group...     There’s interest in something or someone particular on this island,                    and by that will, I’ll see it done and... hope for your cooperation.”

Steady tenors shaken only once, perhaps twice, by the unmistakable tone of a nervous youth.

                                                                                                             For the CREATION of it all;;                                                          THEY HAVE ALREADY LOST THEIR SENSES;;

[kiribourne]

necroarchy‌:

|| what is this that I  C A N ’ T  S E E               with  ICE COLD HANDS  taking hold of me? ||

     Isn’t it lovely, this gaudy gilt home that welcomes him so kindly — see here the luscious plants that wither black in deference, and the lily-patched pools which frost opaque like heralds announcing his approach, and the winter chill that serves as entourage as he meanders in a lazy tour. How wonderful. Add to his side the vicious, muzzled zealot whose tongue shapes politesse with all the joy of swallowing bile, and he can almost forget the endless disgusting splatter of foliage.

     World Nobles.           Dependable always in their loathsomeness, at least.           Such over-wrought ghouls-to-be, the lot of them.

     Save, of course…

     “ My acknowledgement has not been in question for quite some time regarding her. ”

     A throwaway line in the pits of the Deeprun, delivered by her unknowing.           The letter sent at long last.      You knew what to expect, but the absence of the box still struck a chord.           It all melted from your fingers like water, didn’t it, King Menethil?

     “ Which your Masters should have known makes this proposed hierarchy unacceptable. She is mine by right of creation twice over.           Surely the vaunted Unelanvhi see the sanctity of such authority. ”

     He was truly and utterly sick of his things being handed over to lesser hands and meaner usurpers, sicker still of those things skipping merrily into the grasp of shackles for merely the sake of spite and sheer petulance.

     The farthest end of the pool is melting already, free from his presence and exposed to sunlight and stifled warmth once more — even as the temperature around him plummets a degree — then two — then twenty —

     But just as swiftly does it rise from its abyssal depths to a just this edge of frostbite’s touch, and perhaps his guide will not lose extremities after all. Never say he is not a generous god.

     “ Though, of course… considering the state of their own heir… ”

     And here at last is what brings him to this verdant atrocity.

                                        || when  GOD IS GONE  and the  DEVIL  takes hold                                                             who’ll have  M E R C Y  on your soul? ||

FLY AT DAWN;;RETURN BY DUSK         TELL ME EVERYTHING;;    

 THE RAVEN WAS MEMORY, THE RAVEN KNEW ALL - OF COURSE HE KNEW THE FOLLY - but alas! Who was he to question the will of that which had created all? He was merely a single eye, a device to be used to minutely assist in the design of existence.        And his mission here had been a passing fancy, based off of an uttered hint he himself had gleaned years past - A CONNECTION THAT HELD NO MEANING.   And the bitter chill was a reminder that his mark was insignificant, for as much abhorrence as he could muster for the ROTTING PUPPET and the refuse that tangled in derelict strings, he could not speak up against the affront to the environment by which his GODS had tended.       Poise and grace the forefront of decorum, only to be torn in two as a sharp gaze lifted, piercing slate as bold daggers in the dark.                    Heir.   The state of...                                        (HE FELL AND WHERE WERE YOU.)   (REPENT FOR THE REST OF YOUR DAYS, FOR YOU SEE NOTHING.) And how DARE YOU, agent of decay, who can do naught but fester in your own decrepit ills,         act as though you can even THINK of that Sacred Saint with your FAKE BREATH AND FAKE VOICE.                                   

       “My apologies, but the Unelanvhi possess no heir at this time.”

So quick and sincere did the words fall from a gilded tongue, with no evidence to the crime of any prior reaction seen anywhere on a pale complexion.

        “Unless, if I may, you are referring to the lightless vagabond who insults their patrons of genesis by spiting their very name with lies, then I assure you, Esteemed Lord of Winter...                     That is no heir of Creation.”

Denial was such an ugly wound that currently ran the agent through.

                                                                                                             For the CREATION of it all;;                                                          THEY HAVE ALREADY LOST THEIR SENSES;;

[kiribourne]

"FUCK OFF YOU MANGY BASTARD, I DON'T WANNA BE A SHIBICHIBI." who gave her alcohol.

FLY AT DAWN;;RETURN BY DUSK         TELL ME EVERYTHING;;    

And the world seen through a raven’s eye was never a dull one, the secrets to be whispered back on high only the most crucial of memories….       … this... however… was less than optimal, or necessary by any means.Had she… simply recognized him and decided that she still loathed the air he deigned to breathe in light of her lamentable existence?   What in the heavens above them was a shibichibi? Shichibukai?                                  Chibi? She wanted something small? And who here was the mangy mongrel barking at death’s door, scrounging for scraps at the feet of PITIABLE ROT wearing the MANTLE OF ROYALTY?

                 “… Deathlord.          It’s been two months.

                            …. and you … sought me out… I was already here…”

He had simply meant to read the news.

                                                                                                       For the CREATION of it all;;                                                           THEY HAVE ALREADY LOST THEIR SENSES;;

[kiribourne]

Raven & Wolf by Pacific Wild / Ian McAllister

[kiribourne]

 imherebecauseyourehere‌:

🚀—“Jｏｉｎ ｗｉｔｈ ｙｅｓｔｅｒｄａｙ'ｓ ｆｏｅ ｔｏ ｓｍａｓｈ ｆａｔｅ,

                                                    💫 — ａｎｄ ｇｒａｂ ｔｏｍｏｒｒｏｗ'ｓ ｐａｔｈ

                                                                             ｗｉｔｈ ｏｕｒ ｏｗｎ ｈａｎｄｓ!”

 The reflection of a military background drew amusement like a curtain, across the Beastman’s mouth. He inclined his head in an obliging nod, and while his perceptions were attuned to his surroundings, Viral also made an effort to visibly relax beneath Araucana’s touch.  

  Their guide’s concern was heartening, and it put his mind at ease when the long-haired sailor seemed to notice the tension lingering within the settlement.

  ❝I won’t wander far.

The possibility of getting lost isn’t beyond me, after all.

Enjoy your errands. Simon is… fairly reliable.❞

  A wry mention of his implicit faith in the Digger’s capabilities - and shortly thereafter, he stepped away from the pair to collect even a disjointed sense of local disposition.   

  He might have drawn more attention on any other day, yet the scant populace were more preoccupied with whatever event had transpired prior to their arrival to the island. Viral heard scattered whispering that mentioned “Bloody Moon,” and “Celestial Dragons,” wherein the Beastman noted a deep terror that reverberated within the speaker’s voices, towards those involved.

  From what he could gather by innocuous inquiry and intent eavesdropping, there had been a volatile scandal involving a slave, that had resulted in a contest of ownership. Some referenced a pirate as the aggressor, and others recounted cruel captors. In nearly every rendition of the story, a great and terrible revelation had cinched the conflict, leading to the discovery of a Celestial Dragon in the village’s very midst.

    His stomach turned at the thought. The heavens were vast, and time and peace did not reach every star at the same pace. But it still shocked him that something as abhorrent as slavery existed and thrived in a world as beautiful as this.    

  Viral was cautious not to mention the subject directly, as he perused the wares throughout the marketplace. The reverence and equable fear demonstrated in gaze and tone of every speaker told him what he needed to know about the “Dragons” involved. Who, or whatever the Tenryuubito were, if they were such bad news to their own people - then they would certainly be that much worse for the outsiders aboard the Engann.

                                      🐾—ɪ'ᴍ ʜᴇʀᴇ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ ,                                           ‘ǝɹǝɥ ǝɹ'noʎ ǝsnɐɔǝb ǝɹǝɥ ɯ'I

                                             ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴘʀᴏʙʟᴇᴍ ɴᴏᴡ!”                                              “!ʍon ɯǝןboɹd ɐ ʇoƃ ǝʌ'noʎ

FLY AT DAWN;;RETURN BY DUSK         TELL ME EVERYTHING;;    

As grazers avoided the carrion stench of a scavenger, his presence heralded significance in the worst sense - as such, he was given such a wide berth that even that tight tight leash of training looped tight in a noose of decorum threatened to give way to almost panicked frustration.          (FROM HEAVEN UP HIGH, FALLEN INTO THE HUNGERING DEPTHS BELOW,             your PURPOSE was swallowed by the tides...        They forgave you, but tell me, GOD’S MEMORY,                                                                     - - have you forgiven yourself?)

Wiping crystalline anxiety from a slick brow, he pressed forward, relentless observation calculating countless scenarios that could have transpired, limitless possibilities for answers - (The word is ‘Hope’.)      ‘Bloody moon’ was a vagabond of the worst variety, with a high long list of transgressions against humanity as a whole - he just so happened to share a name with a dull-eyed boy who lacked a heavenly presence and just wanted to listen to a mermaid sing.     (He said he didn’t understand what ‘Love’ meant, He said he couldn’t create anything worthwhile.                            He said he liked watching the fish in the aquarium,                 and he wondered if he could ‘Love’ them, too.) The raven was silent, then, he did not know, he knew of love because he was told he was loved, because he was a valuable creation, because he performed his duties well - it was not his place, as a servant of genesis, to try and find the method for a GOD. There was a single individual that did not seem to comprehend the situation - golden marked with eyes like the setting sun and features that should have caused pause.         A mink, or a Fishman? Not many even knew of the fabled prior, so perhaps the upset was far more dire than he had anticipated. He must also be rather uninformed if he chose to show himself as a species ill-seen by Heaven.       THERE WAS A WOLF PLAYING HAVOC CLAIMING TO BE DIVINE, AFTER ALL. - if... there was a chance(Improbable.) that it might be(A fake, a heretic, who dug up the remains of a lost child and used them to gain.) him... - - no, he needed more information, it was his forte.  His approach was subtle, red-tinted shades glinting eerily in the noon sun.

         “Sir - - I don’t mean to interrupt your day,but as you see, I am a member of Cipher Pol, and this is a matter of security of the World Government and the safety of those protected under our flag - recently, there have been witness reports that a wanted criminal was seen toting a Celestial Dragon firearm and threatening civilians into relinquishing a captured slave, claiming to have ties to the Unelanvhi line.       If you would cooperate.. I simply need to know what you’ve seen, heard, or perceived through any other means.”

                                                                                                          For the CREATION of it all;;                                                              THEY HAVE ALREADY LOST THEIR SENSES;;

PIERCE THE SEAS!! Chapter Two

[kiribourne]

Concept sketch for a painting.

[kiribourne]

F I V E   T H I N G S . fill in the categories with 5 things that your character can be identified by. repost, do not reblog !

i. emotions/feelings

1.  Reverence /  2.  Servitude  /  3.  Justice  / 4. Guilt  /  5.  Curiosity

ii. greetings

1.  Vague eye contact  /  2.  Reverent bow  /   3.  Quiet affirmation  /  4.  A report  /  5.  Divulgence of information

iii. colors

1.  Burgundy red  /  2.  Steel grey  /  3.  Blood red  / 4.  Black as night  /  5.  Ivory

iv. scents

1.  After rainfall  /  2.  Crisp parchment  /  3.  Clothing starch  / 4.  Metal and stone /  5.  Tropical flowers

v. clothing

1.  Burgundy suit ; white dress shirt  /  2.  turtleneck sweaters  / 3.  Ostentatious dress shirts  /  4.  Glasses  /  5.  black slacks

vi. objects

1.  seastone gear  /  2.  unfinished star charts  /  3.  mission statements  / 4.  knives and guns  /  5.  night vision red tinted sunglasses

vii. vices/bad habits

1.  lack of social grace  /  2.  zealotry  /  3. quick to judge based off of beliefs  / 4.  will literally remember everything about his encounter with you, forever  /  5.  borderline sociopathy

viii. body language

1.  straight-backed ; eyes averted  /  2.  nervous touching of own hands  /  3. speaking towards ground 3.  fighting stance ; guarded  /  4.  palms pointed towards heavens  /  5.  shy attempt at smiling

ix. aesthetics

1.  two crows watch you in the night  /  2. black feathers falling to earth  /  3.  the pages of a history book fluttering in a sudden gust / 4.  blood spilled on star charts  /  5.  a single candle floating at sea goes out

x. songs

1. Nobody praying for me - Seether  /  2.  Ammunition - Krewella / 3.  We would never do - Taska Black ft Nevve 4.  Way back home - Mako  /  5.  What a shame - Shinedown

tagged by:  @juniqer thanks now give me the fucking rock tagging: @bucketfullofocs @acherys @necroarchy @imherebecauseyourehere @gcrifin @maljefe @mcnypieces    @yakiire

[kiribourne]

acherys‌:

keep the WOLVES from the door.                I hear them scratching like I don’t know  B E T T E R !

     There’s this magic trick she’s been working on lately. Watch closely.

     The clack of leather soles and keratin claws against stone steps ceases simultaneously, as they accomplish what those ambling sharks could never dare, by stopping in the middle of the school, hovering at the heart of prey. A twist of an ankle brings her nose-to-eye level with the squawking bird, and here it is, mate - keep your eye on her -

     See if you can find it, the moment the girl becomes a ghost.

     Lichfire consumes flesh with the inferno’s ease at eating paper, as smoking shadows writhe in abstract approximation of her dragon coat’s dimensions. There was a wolf at her side; you wouldn’t know it for the thing which stands there now. And her face - the less we speak, the better. 

     ( That wasn’t the trick, by the way. )

     “ Let’s take a look at some recent history, ya? ”

     ( The trick was how swiftly the street emptied. )

     “ Crocodile’s arrested for stealing a kingdom — and then Donquixote.            Moriah is Void knows where. Jinbe’s workin’ for your thatcher-boy Fifth Emperor.          And Kuma…. Kuma. Outdid the Lich King with that one. ”

       A nettle pierces her ear, fashioned from his speech. Cannot be easily condemned — but there’s a balm for this, mixed from irritation and hunger, which she has applied already upon the wound. He’s such a little thing, isn’t he, avian bones and fanatic’s fervor bound up by a stringy mess of a sparking nervous system… His discomfort was hardly a snack at all, little better than popping sugar cubes after weeks of empty desert. 

         If they took a bite… would anyone even notice…

     “ Shichibukai system failed, u̺̼̤ͅņ̯̦̜b̥̲͖ͅo̼͎̼͔r̺̥̪̦n̨̼̠̙.          Those left of the old guard won’t last long,          and those of the new are worthless s̰̲ͅh̤̖͓a͔͓̻d͎̯̳o̟̲̥w̡͕̘s̡̹͇. ” 

                                                                                 won’t you  k e e p  the wolves from the  d o o r ?                                                               it won’t be long before I CAVE IN and open up the —

FLY AT DAWN;;RETURN BY DUSK         TELL ME EVERYTHING;;    

FIRE WHICH ONLY EXTINGUISHED LIFE AND WATCHED IN GLEE AS IT BURNED IN AGONY - dusky storms reflected flickering, fiery reproach with all the tired intensity of a gun bred to trigger at the lightest of hairs.   The shadows REARED and deafened him with the rattling of caged darkness forced to hold form, civilians parted in waves, a scream - and yet, the faithful servant stood, enthrallment of mortality mirrored in the eyes of a BEAST.    Trained tendons and etched sinew flexed and prepared for fight or flight, but rigid domestication allowed for an instantaneous indignation in defiance to annihilation... no HOUND OF DEATH WOULD TAKE THE EYES OF GENESIS.       (PLUCK OUT THOSE FLAMES SO THAT SHE CANNOT SEE THEM FEAR.  EXTINGUISH THOSE PERCEPTIONS,         SHE CANNOT SUFFER IF SHE CANNOT FEEL.                             SUCH IS THE BENEVOLENCE OF THE SENSELESS.) The fog was rolling in...                                           O̝̖̼̭͎͕D̥̘͚̜I̟̹̰̰N̜̟͉͘'̨͙̠S̺ ̞̝̺̮ͅͅE̸̳̩̣Y̹͈̞̲͞E.̧.̝͕̙̦̣͝ Falling black feathers turned to wisps behind broad shoulders, curling as fallen angel’s wings up the cipher agent’s elbow, lulling idly across an open palm and up, up, to where the horrid monstrosity that was once a wolf stood tall beside its master.           A warning, a defense, that he was not prey, never the hunted.

As soon as the silent smoke caressed the boiling blotches where Tiris was supposed to have eyes, there would be darkness, as it crept down to the outline of a nose, no scent, not even the magically enhanced.

“Are you saying, perhaps,     that you are so weak you could not bolster those forces greatly? That would... disappoint, I’m sure...      ... afraid, even? That you’ll be used and annihilated without a care? My Masters only know love for their Creations, and you, despite being a vassal of death, still hold that regard, is the potential for combat that much of a deterrent...                 War would suit your palate, would it not? ... surely.. there’s something even you wish to protect, or know?”

He spoke as he wove deprivation, as he slowly enveloped the nightmare creature she was bonded to in nothingness, inch by inch.         

                                                                                                       For the CREATION of it all;;                                                           THEY HAVE ALREADY LOST THEIR SENSES;;

[kiribourne]

necroarchy‌:​

              WHEN YOU ENTER HELL                           I want the exits   K E P T    L O C K E D .

       Oh, how he likes him.

       The bitter coffee loathing of the boy washed over tongue, coated throat, pooled wrathfully at the bottom of his stomach void. There is beauty in the willing bend of a knee, the absence of the flinch they submit soft flesh and brittle bone to the bite of the stone at the mere mention of his presence. But also is there a loveliness to the struggle, teeth ground to nubs and words hissing as air escaping a bottle of champagne not quite opened, also does it please him how these mangy things chew upon the glass shards of his name and then tell him of how they delight in the taste. 

              Father.               You never understood it, did you?               This hearthfire satisfaction of watching those who hate you, kneel for you?               Really — he did you a service, that day.               How did you ever last as long as you did, living as little as you had. 

        An incline of that dark helm would greet the acknowledgement of his ownership. Did she know they knew? No; that shriek of indignation would still ring bell-like through his skull. That his Wraith preferred their arrangement remain furtive had always been clear, no matter that she’d never been fool enough to admit to such a weakness. He had never dissented, content with how maintaining the charade taxed her and how much greater her suffering would be, when inevitably her dear mortal imbeciles came to face with the truth — but neither had he ever made especial efforts to aid her secrecy. Her failure was not his problem.

     ( and there is a stirring, in the grave soil which litters his veins,        a desire dead before it had ever breathed, that he should be regarded         as keeper of the realm labelled zoen mith menethil. )

     “ Incorrect, but significantly more fascinating than my previous intent.          I leave the decision to her, whether she accept or decline. Either suits          my purposes. ”

     He was no one’s fool, least of all hers. The “absolution” of her perceived sins would be too tempting for J.aina’s daughter, that desire to hop joyfully from gallows frame to rabble’s swarm so characteristically P.roudmoore — as if he would lose her in the throng, and could not reach with hooked claws to drag her back to the noose.

                 Let her play the anti-hero. Children learned from such exercises.                  Whether in the act, or the inevitable painful conclusion.                  Sticks and stones, as they say.

     As a shadow divested of its host and left to meander the world alone does he pass by the boy. Mentions of countermeasures would be considered and dismissed; there was no need for violence ( yet ) when already seeds of annihilation germinated in this celestial garden. Whose he was too interested in discovering, to pull out the roots of the operation. 

            “ I do wonder — since you acknowledged her as mine, after all —                   if the net of her official pardon would be cast over me as well? ”

     He bared shark’s teeth, and bit off the heads of his words.

            “ In case the Silver Hand invite themselves into my home again,                   and protest my reaction. ”

                                                            You’re  I N D E B T E D  to the Devil                                                                                           for the BETS YOU HAVE LOST!

FLY AT DAWN;;RETURN BY DUSK         TELL ME EVERYTHING;;    

Understood, but unfortunate - although wrought with the stench of depravity tenfold, this eldritch monstrosity was far superior in terms of decorum to his abhorrent prodigy. And YOU, servant to gods, the wings and eyes and ears of CREATION, hold a role suited to DEALING WITH DIVINITY.     (Even DEATH had its place within it all - though countered by genesis was his existence, denying a single truth would simply delay productivity.) An iceberg rolled past, the quiet, whispering madness of thousands of damned souls accosting his forever-seeking senses, a lifetime of training forbidding that placid expression from shifting. The inquiry, while solemn, had been predicted - as had countless outcomes, he had studied, alone, without rest, all he could glean about the society of the forgotten and restless, the energies that entangled within a lifeless form and forced it to rise and feed... ..endless scenarios, all leading to a single moment by which the raven could proceed as smoothly as was expected of him.          (THE CROW WATCHES YOU, IT KNOWS WHAT YOU’VE DONE.) Eye contact continued to be maintained with the elegant path beneath them, the frigid monarch brushing further into the excessive greenery and vibrant life - he did not follow unless beckoned, did not speak unless spoken to, such was proper when speaking to those of higher callings.

            “Only if you acknowledge your connection to the Deathlord. The only stipulation, due to it being unorthodox for my Masters to recruit that which already has a higher authority, is that if the Gorosei were to call on her, the mission would be held in priority over your command. Of course, this is an extreme rarity, and both of you would have the right to refuse when the time came, however...     This would lead to a stripping of her title and any protections or privileges it may grant.”

Careful words on thread-thin ice, the messenger poised to take cover from a loaded gun, how fickle the heavens were when their authority came to play.             Without intimately understanding the end, he could not predict its ire.

                                                                                                For the CREATION of it all;;                                                  THEY HAVE ALREADY LOST THEIR SENSES;;

[kiribourne]

Send me headcanons for one of my muses and I will either accept, consider or decline them.

[kiribourne]

[kiribourne]

there is nothing and then there is SOMETHING --- a frayed stitch of existence's fabric plucked open, the seam unraveling and pitch Void spilling through the slit --- and from the looming dark of the Gate, stalks out a monster.

FLY AT DAWN;;RETURN BY DUSK         TELL ME EVERYTHING;;    

GRACELESS, NASCENT HEATHENS CURSE YOUR HALLS AND SPIT ON YOUR MASTER’S WORK.         EVEN THE DEAD HAVE SENSES.                        THEY DESERVE TO BE LOST.A cruel, HEARTLESS, LOVELESS beast does not deserve to SEE THE WORLD BURN, does not deserve to HEAR CRIES OF DESPAIR AS THEY TRIUMPH, SMELL THE BLOOD ON THEIR BLADE, they do not even deserve to feel GRIEF FOR THEIR CRIMES.Oh why, my beloved MASTERS, does THIS tarnish even your outermost halls with frigid ilk and deathly stench?          (You are but a vassal, you obey, for they know better.)                         (For the sake of their beautiful world, you must refrain.)

And so, elegance in spades, a bow low and deep and meaningful, eyes trained to the floor as training demanded, reverence a code by which he was an open pamphlet

                     “King Menethil, welcome.          My Graces are quite busy, so I will be your host, guide and negotiator.I am Raim Radbourne, you do not have to remember, I will answer to anything, as long as you beckon me. I assume and hope this is in regards to the institution of the Deathlord as a Shichibukai - she is under your direct command, and as such, of course we would need your consent.        I am here to allay concerns, and point out benefits of being within my Master’s scope of care.         Unless you are here to vehemently disagree,                     in which case I must proceed with countermeasures.”

He of faith had no reason for fear, for death was merely that which slowed the process of worship, even in the face of DEATH ITSELF, his decorum and blank visage could have denoted him of mechanical descent.

                                                                                                For the CREATION of it all;;                                                  THEY HAVE ALREADY LOST THEIR SENSES;;

[kiribourne]

Continued via - [ 🌫️ ] @bucketfullofocs

FLY AT DAWN;;RETURN BY DUSK         TELL ME EVERYTHING;;    

As instantaneously and reliable as the sun setting and rising, was rummaging within multitudes of hidden materials, until what appeared to be a minuscule block made purely of cloud was pulled forth and tossed into the air directly above the beautiful DRAGON.     The little puff toddled idly out from the overhanging they stood under, and as soon as a single drop of rain touched it, it would expand, floating harmlessly above her while simultaneously absorbing anything that would DARE sully THE VISAGE OF A GOD in the slightest.

             “From distant islands within the sky, my masters use quite a few of these in the construction of their home, I sincerely apologize for the time it took me to retrieve it, Saint Abigail.”

   Anxiety a ruthless blade to otherwise distinct tenors, risking a few stuttered words between complete servitude. She was not HIS CREATOR, but they were still those which stood between the realm and its facets, each deity boasted a concept of their own, and this was not the first time he had been called upon to play bodyguard in place of lesser agents.

                      “Your entertainment should be the top priority to the establishment,      I’ll ensure that anything you wish to visit remains open for your convenience, even with the rain.”          

                                                                                                For the CREATION of it all;;                                                  THEY HAVE ALREADY LOST THEIR SENSES;;