#persimmon cadaver

[errorx429]

Persimmon Cadaver

On an off note- I'd rather draw hands than hats ever again-

[meishutori]

Behold! Within the threshold of Rose's office, the small wyvern cadaver stood, donning something rather curious upon his form. The deity had jacked the Captain's haori ( given that it had been set aside sometime before Rose decided to take a break from his work ) and had now decided to partake in entertaining himself. Such majesty, too, when adorned! "Hey--Rojuro-san, lookit." Wings fanned opened with pizazz to playfully ( yet pridefully ) flaunt the snazzy white ensemble. "I'ma Captain."

--- Upon his return from his daily sauntering among the persimmon trees in the courtyard, he found his haori missing from the chair he had left it on. He had sensed the Hogyoku before entering his office though { blessedly, as he didn’t think he could handle another one of those mini heartattacks }, and so he knew mischief must be about.

      The white stands out, and he spots him not seconds later, stretching out those billowing sleeves across his wings. It is a sight to see and it succeeds in making Rose laugh, especially when directly addressed. 

      “Oh, I am looking,” he replied, mirth crinkling the edges of his eyes. “And what a handsome captain you make.” He can hear the sermon about how precious and important the haori are as a symbol of power and status in Yamamoto’s exact, raspy old voice. But.. The old man is no more, and Kyouraku holds no such expectations, and neither does Rose himself. So this.. It is just endearing.

[intangiblewords]

Dystopia

Anchored in time’s motion, the azure washed ethereal skies, dripping in shades of cerulean blue and evocative wisteria hung low against the shamrock green verdure, of which looming mountains of embedded wooden sepia columns rose to the heavens, laden with waterfalls of cherry pink sakura blossoms, cascading down their drooping intertwined branches, creating a velvet canopy of coral petals steeped in the fragrance of spring. Flocks of dynamic plumage speckled with explosions of vermillion, ultramarine, aureolin and kelly green, soared with aerodynamic poise, their ebullient wings fluttering in a flurry, as they let out an ensemble of high-pitched melodious chirps. A chorus of buoyant laughter and cheery smiles erupted from the mirthful figures in the distance, clouded in an abundance of sanguinity, capturing the aesthetical aura of the flawless composition. Haven was at their doorstep, a world without inhibition or anxiety. An arcadia of unbiased egalitarianism and uniform objectivity, built upon the firm pillars of ethical morality and justice. An exemplary ideology of perfection at its finest; a term so highly appraised amongst their euphoric bliss, one that philosophers strived to achieve amongst the former years.

And just for a moment, the world represented acceptance, love and coexistence. Just for a moment, she found herself succumbing to the surrealism of it all, until it evanesced under her epiphany, into a pile of incongruous tyranny and corrupt propaganda, hindering the world into a state of pandemonium.

There she stood, under the somber greige leaden infinite expanse, smudged with monochromatic charcoal tones, her coffee brown hair furiously slashing at her pallid hollow cheekbones, her mesmerizing hyacinth heavy-lidded eyes, flecked with invigorating apatite, glinting at the jubilant scene unfolding before her, causing her lips to twist into a deranged smile.

Turmoil bathed the masses. Their deafening shrieks and pleas for mercy as their lifeless cadavers dropped like flies aroused a sense of contentment within her. Bangs of constant gunfire reverberated across the brutal carnage- a symphony to a ballet act. Persimmon red flames licked at the façade of the deteriorating buildings like hell’s personal demons, demolishing everything in its path. All that was left was the final finishing strokes, in order to apporter l'œuvre d'art à la vie.

The soft resounding ticks emitted from the device attached to her abdomen furiously gained momentum, synchronizing with the fleeting beat of her thudding heart, promptly halting amidst its ascension.

3...

2...

1...

‘Au revoir à jamais…’  - // i.w.

[errorx429]

Very excited! Western Indigo is in the works!

Her inspriation takes from the short story Across A Dark Plain by Derek Landy, the fact cowboys and samurai existed in the same time period and a gun from red dead redemption 2 that was based off the 1860 henry repeater rifle