tenebrae16 Member
STATUS: Tene's being productive, happy and cute! 6 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 4 mos ago
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
- Posts: 911 (0.23 / day)
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- tenebrae16 11 yrs ago
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CloseEnough
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6 yrs ago
Current
Tene's being productive, happy and cute!
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7 yrs ago
Needa learn to take my mind off all the bad feelings, all the bad thoughts...Slowly slowly getting better.
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7 yrs ago
I don't feel so good Mr Stark - Mood
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7 yrs ago
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH -the voices in my head
7 yrs ago
Yay, it's birthday!....Now whut?
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Most Recent Posts
Well it's a little slow and still getting to it's feet, but I hope we can really turn it into something memorable. I hope you can join us. :3
Mine always come as a sort of sometimes stereotypical or vague words of description and then they eventually find that one point were something defines them and then they start building their history and more of themselves. Then it feels better writing for them. I don't like winging it all the time, but it happens. I wasn't too sure how to make this open ended, but I was thinking we can skip to the next day or Lai can ask around about the father or even find him if he wanted to. I hope it was alright, I thought it was better than what I usually do, but if it's not then it tells you about my sense of judgment doesn't it? I think my rambling passed on a little to Xeph as well :p
He lingers, just long enough to catch the man's expression when he bends down to read one of the labels. And he can't help the delight that flickers inside of him, unable to help but enjoy every little tick of annoyance that he seems able to coax out of the angel; be it a slight twitch or narrowing of the eyes, a slight frown at the corners of his mouth or the brief flicker over his eyes. It doesn't stir anything great, but it makes it more bearable to be in the man's presence. A-And it was good for the church of course! All the work that could be done with the angel around to put his strengths to actual good use. It might actually take a good load off of his shoulders, not having to worry about all the little loose odds and ends around the church. Frayed ends of a wire, Father Christopher always quoted.
And the youth could take a good break too, just one out of the blue. It needn't always be some sort of festival or someone's birthday for the great church to not need any tending to. The building had stood for a good century, lasted through a war that would probably go on for many more centuries to come and stood it's ground through the worst of storms which was the least of it's feats, it could go a day or two without constantly being looked after.
Still, the church was old. He stops along the corridor and presses a hand up against the cool concrete wall. Concrete wasn't used much nowadays, production value was high and the cost was all too much the same. He wasn't even sure if any of the newer buildings within the compound still had any constitution of concrete anymore, or anything outside of the scrap yards. It probably just told of how old the church was and even without constant tending to, one day it would fall and when it did...Well, they'd replace it probably.
The children would have to probably stay over at a temporary boarding home or with any kind civilians who's volunteer their homes for as long as it took, the elderly and ill might be a little harder to sort, but chances were they wouldn't be left out on the streets. The delivery of goods would get delayed and back logged again, especially with all the building materials they required to rebuild the main building and the dormitories, not to mention all the facilities within it. Perhaps he should consider placing an order for some spare parts just in case, he could probably store them away in the scrap yards and grease them up a little to protect from the wind and rain and...
Alright, he was getting a little out of point, but once a new church was built of bronze and steel alloy, it might serve the same function, but it didn't symbolize nearly as much as the grey giant that had held out for so long. Would the children notice a difference after they spent so long getting used to the church to the point that they could run around the corners and avoid the pillars without even paying any attention to them.
It was a rather sad thought all the same. Certainly, he'd feel sentimental over the church's eventual demise, but all things had an end sooner or later. Even this damning war had to stop at some time, but that's a thought that's gotten old as well.
Done with his deep melancholy brooding for the day, he straightens his attire and brushed off the dust that always settled on everything old. And speaking of old things, he was not gonna even go there.
He was going to continue on with logging down what orders the church had received and then start taking register of what supplies they did had and where else they were meant to go. To think that the youth were willing to break their backs carrying load after load, learn to drive out on deliveries and how to completely take apart and put back together complex machinery, but they absolutely refused to and more than once skipped out on trying to learn their figures and accounting for all the storage that they had. He should've been more strict with them when they were younger, but he supposed it was a good distraction with the angel out of his hair and now his thoughts and a great way to find out that dust actually does bother his lungs.
72 full cans of preserved fruits, 34 jars of dried meat, 8 and a half stacks of folded cotton clothes and countless amounts of sneezing and biting his tongue whilst sneezing and thinking out loud, he finds the sun setting and the classes ended. The scent of orange and stew permeating the air and telling him that Gabby's gotten creative in the kitchen again.
Everyone's already seated by the time he gets to the great hall. The children all squeezed together at one bench, trying to get the angel's attention. It's not...unusual for them to get entranced by a guest, even less so knowing said guest's little big secret, but...today he was going to dine in his so called 'office'. What was once the designated room of the pope. He trusts the angel won't do any harm in the presence of so many people though he's unwilling to admit the angel almost has him convinced of his objective.
There's a lot of other reasons too; like the fact that he hadn't gotten to putting down the orders yet and labeling the deliveries that had only just been delivered yesterday; one of which he can at least take care off in his office.
It's not uncommon either for him to eat in his office either. The youths would know what to do with the guests for the evening and any concerns could be sent to him before lights out.
Apparently, it's not so common for him to eat in his office though because Javier perks up and looks around halfway into the meal. Then his brow furrows, "Father did not come to say the dinner prayer, that means he's not going to tell us a bedtime story." Collectively, all the children groan.
In his office, he considers going back out there, knowing him, he's likely to fall asleep at his desk if he doesn't get back to his room by light's out. The angel will probably take care of it, the thought isn't a pleasant one, but he has work to do.
And the youth could take a good break too, just one out of the blue. It needn't always be some sort of festival or someone's birthday for the great church to not need any tending to. The building had stood for a good century, lasted through a war that would probably go on for many more centuries to come and stood it's ground through the worst of storms which was the least of it's feats, it could go a day or two without constantly being looked after.
Still, the church was old. He stops along the corridor and presses a hand up against the cool concrete wall. Concrete wasn't used much nowadays, production value was high and the cost was all too much the same. He wasn't even sure if any of the newer buildings within the compound still had any constitution of concrete anymore, or anything outside of the scrap yards. It probably just told of how old the church was and even without constant tending to, one day it would fall and when it did...Well, they'd replace it probably.
The children would have to probably stay over at a temporary boarding home or with any kind civilians who's volunteer their homes for as long as it took, the elderly and ill might be a little harder to sort, but chances were they wouldn't be left out on the streets. The delivery of goods would get delayed and back logged again, especially with all the building materials they required to rebuild the main building and the dormitories, not to mention all the facilities within it. Perhaps he should consider placing an order for some spare parts just in case, he could probably store them away in the scrap yards and grease them up a little to protect from the wind and rain and...
Alright, he was getting a little out of point, but once a new church was built of bronze and steel alloy, it might serve the same function, but it didn't symbolize nearly as much as the grey giant that had held out for so long. Would the children notice a difference after they spent so long getting used to the church to the point that they could run around the corners and avoid the pillars without even paying any attention to them.
It was a rather sad thought all the same. Certainly, he'd feel sentimental over the church's eventual demise, but all things had an end sooner or later. Even this damning war had to stop at some time, but that's a thought that's gotten old as well.
Done with his deep melancholy brooding for the day, he straightens his attire and brushed off the dust that always settled on everything old. And speaking of old things, he was not gonna even go there.
He was going to continue on with logging down what orders the church had received and then start taking register of what supplies they did had and where else they were meant to go. To think that the youth were willing to break their backs carrying load after load, learn to drive out on deliveries and how to completely take apart and put back together complex machinery, but they absolutely refused to and more than once skipped out on trying to learn their figures and accounting for all the storage that they had. He should've been more strict with them when they were younger, but he supposed it was a good distraction with the angel out of his hair and now his thoughts and a great way to find out that dust actually does bother his lungs.
72 full cans of preserved fruits, 34 jars of dried meat, 8 and a half stacks of folded cotton clothes and countless amounts of sneezing and biting his tongue whilst sneezing and thinking out loud, he finds the sun setting and the classes ended. The scent of orange and stew permeating the air and telling him that Gabby's gotten creative in the kitchen again.
Everyone's already seated by the time he gets to the great hall. The children all squeezed together at one bench, trying to get the angel's attention. It's not...unusual for them to get entranced by a guest, even less so knowing said guest's little big secret, but...today he was going to dine in his so called 'office'. What was once the designated room of the pope. He trusts the angel won't do any harm in the presence of so many people though he's unwilling to admit the angel almost has him convinced of his objective.
There's a lot of other reasons too; like the fact that he hadn't gotten to putting down the orders yet and labeling the deliveries that had only just been delivered yesterday; one of which he can at least take care off in his office.
It's not uncommon either for him to eat in his office either. The youths would know what to do with the guests for the evening and any concerns could be sent to him before lights out.
Apparently, it's not so common for him to eat in his office though because Javier perks up and looks around halfway into the meal. Then his brow furrows, "Father did not come to say the dinner prayer, that means he's not going to tell us a bedtime story." Collectively, all the children groan.
In his office, he considers going back out there, knowing him, he's likely to fall asleep at his desk if he doesn't get back to his room by light's out. The angel will probably take care of it, the thought isn't a pleasant one, but he has work to do.
God damn, your angel is turning out more devilish to be honest, at least slightly. I like to think I'm getting the hang of Xephos a little more, isn't it strange how characters always turn out different from what you expected?
Yay! Lots of reading to do!
beep
boop
That's fine, I've had a little problem with it too. Take your time and don't rush yourself ^^
Alrighty then, see was that so hard? Here's a picture of a puppy as a reward.
How do you know when your own conscience is against you? When you're about to descend into the depths of madness?
And the illusion wavered and dispelled itself. Golden eyes traded in for a single grey orb, the other covered in a shroud of bandages. Wings for laughable decayed stalks that just barely sprung out from his back. What he wore was the same, but certainly, it was a horried contrast against the discoloured skin along his arms, burned by acid in countless of areas. And with such glamor went such confidence and mean-spirited arrogance because he was back within the shelter and everything was only just teetering on the edge of going wrong, but he didn't quite know why.
Gathering up the bundled sleeping child, what had he named them? The newborns, they were already so big. Skylark, sleeping wonder, sleep so long you'd never see the sky. His gaze softened and he cradled the boy close, "Why don't you already know of mating Edge? There's your whole harem that you never told me of. Why don't you know? I gave you myself without even knowing. I gave you the young that you so loved as well, sweet ones you wanted part of your lol harem...and who's form I so took to please you." What was he saying? What were these words? He didn't know because he was king and he couldn't tell what he was doing anymore.
Cradling his child close, he let the stranger's words leave his mouth, "My arms, do you know how warm they are? Edge....." And he placed the boy down and pressed a claw to his arm, wincing betraying the pain. Why was he doing this?
The scratch hissed as it met the air, black mist arising from the wound. He lifted his head and stared at the mirror, "How warm are my arms?"
Do you know, why madness is mad? Why my love, why? When there is nothing left, it devours itself
The wind dragon's aura was disturbed, surrounded by an entirely different entity that hissed and spat at the unwanted intrusion and twisted tighter around the wind dragon, threatening.
"Who will be here soon? Anemoli!" The fire dragon growled and those strapped down beside him would feel the heat emitting from his scales. Not one second later, the ceiling above him opened up and doused him in a shower of ice and snow. Surprised, he froze as the hard ice cubes pelted him.
And the illusion wavered and dispelled itself. Golden eyes traded in for a single grey orb, the other covered in a shroud of bandages. Wings for laughable decayed stalks that just barely sprung out from his back. What he wore was the same, but certainly, it was a horried contrast against the discoloured skin along his arms, burned by acid in countless of areas. And with such glamor went such confidence and mean-spirited arrogance because he was back within the shelter and everything was only just teetering on the edge of going wrong, but he didn't quite know why.
Gathering up the bundled sleeping child, what had he named them? The newborns, they were already so big. Skylark, sleeping wonder, sleep so long you'd never see the sky. His gaze softened and he cradled the boy close, "Why don't you already know of mating Edge? There's your whole harem that you never told me of. Why don't you know? I gave you myself without even knowing. I gave you the young that you so loved as well, sweet ones you wanted part of your lol harem...and who's form I so took to please you." What was he saying? What were these words? He didn't know because he was king and he couldn't tell what he was doing anymore.
Cradling his child close, he let the stranger's words leave his mouth, "My arms, do you know how warm they are? Edge....." And he placed the boy down and pressed a claw to his arm, wincing betraying the pain. Why was he doing this?
The scratch hissed as it met the air, black mist arising from the wound. He lifted his head and stared at the mirror, "How warm are my arms?"
Do you know, why madness is mad? Why my love, why? When there is nothing left, it devours itself
The wind dragon's aura was disturbed, surrounded by an entirely different entity that hissed and spat at the unwanted intrusion and twisted tighter around the wind dragon, threatening.
"Who will be here soon? Anemoli!" The fire dragon growled and those strapped down beside him would feel the heat emitting from his scales. Not one second later, the ceiling above him opened up and doused him in a shower of ice and snow. Surprised, he froze as the hard ice cubes pelted him.
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