Post by Kunna Drakonis on Mar 24, 2010 1:12:05 GMT -7
It was raining this time. Thunder boomed and lightening shattered the black sky, it's scars left upon the retina of the eye. The rain drops falling to the ground like tears that could not be stopped. Each muddy puddle looked as if the onyx globe above had broken off and crumbled beneath the clouds, the glassy surface marred by each never ending ripple.
Amidst the thick darkness shrouding the castle that silhouetted with each shredding bolt, there she stood upon the road toward it. A figure of the purest ebony seemed a pit of hell against the brilliance of the night save for the pale white skin that remained splotched from a year beneath the dirt. Long skirts soaked and muddy along the hem were silent in her motionless state. Crystaline droplets shown like stars against the flickers of light deep within the rain clouds. Hues of blue ice watched each fulmination like an electric dance meant to accompany the orchestra of the thunder. A ballet of Mother Nature's finest atmospheric symphony.
Black wings shook visible water pools from newly grown feathers only to slowly wrap about the lithe figure like a cloak. The idea of entering that hollowed home seemed redundant and yet necessary. Since having been brought back from the dead, changes had occurred that had never before seemed possible to the Drakonis Matriarch. Sire being linked into a family Kunna had at one time found distasteful now only to be endeared to quite a few and seemingly dedicated to respecting them. Then to have those that had ripped her from the earth barely speak in her direction. A family that hates each other and a broken line that mirrored her soul. Something had to change in that respect, a dire change in the way she ruled her household now that she was alone.
Hours later and the pop crackling of the roaring fire in Nesmuth's study shook her from a distant thought. The brandy snifter left forgotten and dry at the table beside her. Kunna pulled the black button up shirt closer to her chest, she'd found it in his closet; it still smelled like him even after the past year of their absence. The shirt was all she wore, all she needed to clutch to the memories. The soft ebony tresses bounced lightly as she moved to pour another drink, they were drying by the fire's heat. A book sat in her lap, unfilled with text that inspired or invoked emotion and thought. Unfilled, for now.
I cannot put into words what it is that I feel. Having returned to the caustic rituals of life within the citadel of RavenBlack City, it's left a sour taste in the back of my throat. The magic is gone, the darkness has evaporated into nothingness. What once was a grand jewel of vampire society has now become a distant faded memory clinging yet to the new coming fads of youth. These fragile minded miscreants have warped what was already damned in the human world. It's become glamorized and Hollywood, glitz and sparkles where it had been scrutinized and deemed blasphemy by historical religious sects; those of us that have been kissed by the Morning Star himself.
To string along the words in which to describe the emotions boiling within me, I could. I'd write that I feel empty, cold and alone. But yet that is not true for I'm angry and sad, and not by any means alone in this. This emptiness seizes my unbeating heart and squeezes until even less of what had been, before retreating to the grave, no more exists. Yet, what little still remains is stained with a putrid hate that infects my mind. I tend to ask myself in lieu of the time I've spent so far catching up by reading the ink pressed newspapers and visiting the filth ingrained suburbs.."Do these people truly understand what has been lost? And if they did, would they ever try to salvage the tattered remains?" I find it disheartening to believe such a thing will never happen, yet cannot help but feel this is true.
I myself am not even of ancient grandeur or even a mark upon the history books, yet I was there to see such of these pillars of remarkable moments. And was there to watch it all be destroyed by those that followed there after. I was there watching as the world we know it turned for the worse, changing into the stagnant and floundering. Honor turned into lies put onto pedestals. Blood no longer a reason. What is left to believe in? What do people fight for within this city? Is there no basis for war or revenge or just a basic need to escape the morals of human society beside the ever present 'Give me lulz or give me death'?
No, this is not emptiness, but pity and the constant growth of contempt...
The fire snapped loudly and a log fell, sending sparks shooting up the flue. Nimble fingers rubbed gingerly at tired eyes and the book was closed for the night. She sipped at the cool liquid of her glass and rose from the comfort of the chair. His chair.
Bare feet took her out of the room and through empty familiar halls that she called home. It was a plain modern door that stopped Kunna, one with a six by six window above the center. Peering in a grin crossed over those carmine petals while icey blue eyes flashed like lightning white. A lever was pulled and within the room another door slid open. Four humans were huddled within the small corridor beyond while a single vampire youngling remained stubborn in it's newly acquired unlife. It took a moment for the scent to roil out amongst the crowded zombies gathered within the padded room. And in a swift movement they engaged their meal.
Turning from the window, Kunna continued on toward her tower that was nested over the castle. She could feel the sun starting to dry out the storm as it began it's ascent. Soon another night would fall over the city and another addition to her book would fill it's pages.
Amidst the thick darkness shrouding the castle that silhouetted with each shredding bolt, there she stood upon the road toward it. A figure of the purest ebony seemed a pit of hell against the brilliance of the night save for the pale white skin that remained splotched from a year beneath the dirt. Long skirts soaked and muddy along the hem were silent in her motionless state. Crystaline droplets shown like stars against the flickers of light deep within the rain clouds. Hues of blue ice watched each fulmination like an electric dance meant to accompany the orchestra of the thunder. A ballet of Mother Nature's finest atmospheric symphony.
Black wings shook visible water pools from newly grown feathers only to slowly wrap about the lithe figure like a cloak. The idea of entering that hollowed home seemed redundant and yet necessary. Since having been brought back from the dead, changes had occurred that had never before seemed possible to the Drakonis Matriarch. Sire being linked into a family Kunna had at one time found distasteful now only to be endeared to quite a few and seemingly dedicated to respecting them. Then to have those that had ripped her from the earth barely speak in her direction. A family that hates each other and a broken line that mirrored her soul. Something had to change in that respect, a dire change in the way she ruled her household now that she was alone.
Hours later and the pop crackling of the roaring fire in Nesmuth's study shook her from a distant thought. The brandy snifter left forgotten and dry at the table beside her. Kunna pulled the black button up shirt closer to her chest, she'd found it in his closet; it still smelled like him even after the past year of their absence. The shirt was all she wore, all she needed to clutch to the memories. The soft ebony tresses bounced lightly as she moved to pour another drink, they were drying by the fire's heat. A book sat in her lap, unfilled with text that inspired or invoked emotion and thought. Unfilled, for now.
I cannot put into words what it is that I feel. Having returned to the caustic rituals of life within the citadel of RavenBlack City, it's left a sour taste in the back of my throat. The magic is gone, the darkness has evaporated into nothingness. What once was a grand jewel of vampire society has now become a distant faded memory clinging yet to the new coming fads of youth. These fragile minded miscreants have warped what was already damned in the human world. It's become glamorized and Hollywood, glitz and sparkles where it had been scrutinized and deemed blasphemy by historical religious sects; those of us that have been kissed by the Morning Star himself.
To string along the words in which to describe the emotions boiling within me, I could. I'd write that I feel empty, cold and alone. But yet that is not true for I'm angry and sad, and not by any means alone in this. This emptiness seizes my unbeating heart and squeezes until even less of what had been, before retreating to the grave, no more exists. Yet, what little still remains is stained with a putrid hate that infects my mind. I tend to ask myself in lieu of the time I've spent so far catching up by reading the ink pressed newspapers and visiting the filth ingrained suburbs.."Do these people truly understand what has been lost? And if they did, would they ever try to salvage the tattered remains?" I find it disheartening to believe such a thing will never happen, yet cannot help but feel this is true.
I myself am not even of ancient grandeur or even a mark upon the history books, yet I was there to see such of these pillars of remarkable moments. And was there to watch it all be destroyed by those that followed there after. I was there watching as the world we know it turned for the worse, changing into the stagnant and floundering. Honor turned into lies put onto pedestals. Blood no longer a reason. What is left to believe in? What do people fight for within this city? Is there no basis for war or revenge or just a basic need to escape the morals of human society beside the ever present 'Give me lulz or give me death'?
No, this is not emptiness, but pity and the constant growth of contempt...
The fire snapped loudly and a log fell, sending sparks shooting up the flue. Nimble fingers rubbed gingerly at tired eyes and the book was closed for the night. She sipped at the cool liquid of her glass and rose from the comfort of the chair. His chair.
Bare feet took her out of the room and through empty familiar halls that she called home. It was a plain modern door that stopped Kunna, one with a six by six window above the center. Peering in a grin crossed over those carmine petals while icey blue eyes flashed like lightning white. A lever was pulled and within the room another door slid open. Four humans were huddled within the small corridor beyond while a single vampire youngling remained stubborn in it's newly acquired unlife. It took a moment for the scent to roil out amongst the crowded zombies gathered within the padded room. And in a swift movement they engaged their meal.
Turning from the window, Kunna continued on toward her tower that was nested over the castle. She could feel the sun starting to dry out the storm as it began it's ascent. Soon another night would fall over the city and another addition to her book would fill it's pages.
OOC: Blair|:-
