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Vill Glück zum Geburri, Ki!

My Snowy, you are therefore reached the halfway ... But thee still do the other. Go ahead, do not stop, I go with you. To the end.

Happy Birthday, K!

I ha di gäärn thy

Dreko

January 19, 2011

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Nostalgia of the Tyrant, version 3 - Chapter 1: The Wave Blind

Third test, the good this time perhaps. Believe it:).
So I mix two stories that I turlipinent from a lease, path thinking and nostalgia for the tyrant but I think they will marry well, we'll see.
is a first jet resume pieces that I already wrote but which is largely rewritten from scratch.

main musical inspiration: Corvus Corax - Florent Omnes

sheet Slowly swirled toward the ground, red drops of dew gliding along the smooth surface than light stroking. His eyes followed her to the ground where it landed slowly in the open hand of a corpse pale. He felt frozen, spread fear in him. Where was he? The noise, the smell of death, sweat and guts emptied. His eyes fell slowly to his own body, his hands empty but covered with blood and fresh earth. He knew he was down to his knee, he felt the moisture that slowly passed through his shoes. Or maybe it was the rain, he had just realizing she was falling. Small blood-filled trenches fought their way through the mud. And everywhere, as far as he could see cadavres.Lentement noise filled the space, battles were not over. He walked slowly and painfully, as if he had not moved for hours, his aching limbs ached.

He approached the edge of the woods and the noise grew, growled: groans, shouts, the clatter of whips, voices of hundreds of thousands of voices chanting in unison, or disheveled, praying, screaming without agreement . He blinked again and again, driving rain, crying, why he was crying? Finally he was able to distinguish that which had previously formed a wall on the horizon vane. A human tide monstrous advancing inexorably to loss of a wave for creatures tortured, naked, blind, eyes milky-white on the wide open sky filled with ominous clouds, mouth open to their entreaties. They limped chained together by a hook planted in the flesh to the bone. Opening infected wounds, black, teeming with worms and flies. Some would stand on the other died before were still trailed by the others until they no longer get anything from them that rusty hook, black clotted blood. They are in darkness, jostling each other and slamming behind the whips of their masters. Blind them also whose sole purpose was only to knock them into a single rate known to them as if it were their last, their sole reason for living. He was petrified by the landscape of nightmare, this human tide wan cut to pieces the last pockets of resistance that still stood in his way. Groups of lean men, clad spears impaled on which the blind. Causing the spikes in their fall, still air and then hitting the ground while praying and groaning in pain. Other trampling the dying and their continued until there have nothing against them.

They came chanting and hitting the edge of the trees toward him, her, still petrified with horror, the legs of cotton, wet hose.

forms continued to beat the air, attacking even the branches and trunks of trees, reducing them into wood chips, spirit away, overwhelmed by grief and madness, obsessed by the prayers chanted "Maeror abit scaebilus "A hand grabbed her wrinkled arm, shook him violently" Run sir! Flee they have no mercy, the day is lost, it has always been "the man spat at his feet, looking scared despite the weight of years that made him a veteran. He did not wait for an answer, and plunged deeper into the woods. He watched him disappear among the dark green of the forest. The wave was approaching blind inexorably plunged into the undergrowth. He saw behind the men who guided her on horseback, shouting orders, hitting the poor wretches, and sometimes running after a fugitive, a man who had been able to escape by pretending to be dead or running. It was time to leave, he never knew why, despite the fear he had waited so long to contemplate death, death, move on. But finally he ends up turning on his heel and fled from where he saw the other man go.

He ran and ran again, his first tentative steps, short of stumbling, his hands catching up to the bark of trees, rubbing the skin. But he welcomed with kindness this stinging, blood pulsating in his fingers, which reminded him he was still alive, he redoubled his zeal despite the muscles were burning. It would almost laughed with joy to be alive because he did not know where he came, did not know who he was and his mind was a vacuum on the one thing he knew about his past. Rocked by the clamor of faceless men and their prayers receding slowly.

... She had brown hair, pulling the red, tiny waist. He had wanted her as he had just entered the room. His member was stretched against his heels. His entire being seems to stretch toward her, trying to reach faster. He closed the door and waited at the entrance. He needed to touch it, it was so long. She clenched her shoulders when she heard, she knew it was him. She had always had the gift to feel it, read it as if it was transparent. It had thrown in the beginning, He was so smart, so secret.
He opened his mouth to whisper his name, his hand rose slowly, anticipating the stroke he gave him in a dream already. But she turned suddenly, breaking the daydream, bringing it to the sad reality.

"Vas-t-in, you do not understand? I can not take more than your love, your pain." She threw herself upon him, her eyes red from crying. Since she knows I'm coming thought he bitterly. Formerly, it would have taken her in his arms, the left would hit its small delicate hands, he would have jailed her waist, her hands have caressed her mouth would have sought her lips to silence his feeble words of protest. Maybe he would have slid his hand between her legs, or would he thrown on the bed where she would have fallen into submission. All this would change his not so offended by begging.
It would have taken and would have wept for joy this time. Past. But not today. His letter had frozen heart and even if he loved her and wished he could always much more to impose. He could not force her to love him if she said to love another. Even though he knew she still loved him. But why?

A husband that is wrong, we know it, you love dearly, there is attached but he lost the power of novelty, a suitor was another matter, regardless of its origin status (he hated it already), he had power, enough to seduce, lie and dazzle.

another lover than himself, more present, closer, more real so that took away their uniqueness to him, his place as king in her eyes and above his heart. He would have struggled as do the roosters and dogs but it was too dignified for that, even for her. He would not be different from the one she had loved. She told him she still loved him and he did not understand. She loved him so but by default without having a say. She loved as one loves a painting and not what it depicts, much less the artist. He loved her despair because despite everything he had in life, he did it and somebody had made, not worse, she had given. First come, a very intelligent, very charming, a good man probably if we had confidence in the verdict but another man anyway. He had suffered for some time locked up, decided to live without it, to live despite it.
But he could not really, so he had come to see.

And now here he finally understood it was wrong, or had ached and she had another way to live it. It saddened him and he winced. His hand instinctively on his belly and then he felt the tears flow without having had time to remember, but despite all his desires to implore her, to keep from getting angry and taking it there he did nothing. He forced a smile and said "I understand, it's probably better that way. Amelia I love you, take care of you.". It faded slowly, looking to separate their image in the mirror instead of probing eyes, she was like him, blue gray, afraid to see a glimmer of hope, desire. The door closed again without kiss that mouth perfect. The door closes and oblivion took the step. Only the pounding of his legs were. Who was she? Who was he? He does not know and the tears continued to flow, the pain of her muscles mingling with that of the heart, and he wanted to run to the end of the world had a case there are any.