Avatar of wXw
  • Last Seen: 8 yrs ago
  • Old Guild Username: wXw
  • Joined: 10 yrs ago
  • Posts: 51 (0.01 / day)
  • VMs: 0
  • Username history
    1. wXw 10 yrs ago

Status

User has no status, yet

Bio

Gazing at the boiling Sun, I am the last drop of the Oceans.

You that gaze, leave a pretty word for me!

Most Recent Posts

Oh wondrous doubt! thought Anela, which turn a things of beauty into a forgotten memory. Such a wonderful story, and so marvelously told, that for a moment it felt as if it could be true. Be it the sense of warmth that Cecilia’s eyes commanded, be it the flashing of the silvery armor, and of the blade, which she mastered with otherworldly grace, Anela came as close a contemplating the possibility of falling for her.

In the shining shrine, surrounded by the sleepy valleys of Theron, by then a theater of crickets and lost souls, a well spent life awaited ahead, enlightened by the words of a reborn Goddess. Anela could not contain her lips from bending into a smirk of pride. There was warmth in her womb, a maternal feeling of having awaken youth, and that growing sense that Cecilia was somehow hers, that she owed her to keep her alive, and well, and happy.

No beast, no matter how vile and how dark, could sever them then. No tale could convince her of the witchcraft that had befallen on Cecilia’s suitors. Anela had seen the terror in the eyes of the young boy in front of the shrine, and she had seen already the speed of his flight, and she had not faltered then, not with a single chill running down her spine. All the legends in the world would but amuse her, and be accompanied by the echo of her laughter in reply. It was not the fear of the witch to refrain her. It was her pride.

”Ah, there, you thing of beauty." began Anela ”Look what foolish words you are already brewing from the lips of this youth! She would give you her entire soul, not even knowing, not for a moment, what truly stirs in your heart.
And, as foolish as her, I too, must confess, find the moment quite queer, stirring almost against my will. Two words, until my heart holds, and before the better part of me chickens out of it, for the sake of wisdom: Guide us. Please.”


Anela clenched her fists, and her teeth closed on her lips again. She held them tight, until, with a final burst, she added ”But, in all due respect, don’t expect that I bow to you for nothing. If needed, she’ll do the bowing for both of us.”

... [double post] ...
So she stayed. Anela did too. Despite the impending night, and the crickets already troubling the silver chord of their secret harps, she remained. She could have left, standing with a polite word of thanks, and walk out of the shrine, but there was a strength in the warrior, a magnetic presence that pulled Anela, and made her desire more.

She stood straight against the chair back at first. A smile crossed her face, and her hand waved across the sea of hair flowing onto her shoulders. Soon she found herself gazing with lust at the lips of the Goddess, her chin resting on the crossed fingers, and her legs crossed too, with her right foot waving nervously under the table.

Anela wanted adventure. She wanted the adventures that this woman had. She wanted to feel the passion of the fight, the fear of the flight. She wanted to see a dragon, a real one, and not the beast invented to exact more taxes from the uneducated.

To live a life of pleasures, that had been exciting. But the purpose of it faded in the very face of Cecilia’s dedication. One may have a thousand lovers, but their heart turns when the pleasure ends. One may save a thousand lives, and live in their memories forever, beloved. Maybe not forever, Anela thought, if this self-appointed goddess had been forgotten.

“And then what did you do? Did you do something regretful? How comes that they forgot about you after all that you did for them? Is the heart of men really so ungrateful?” exclaimed Anela, with a motion of her hand.
Flooded by the words of the woman with the voice of angel’s choirs, Anela, in open contrast to her own words, tried to find a moment of solace in an innocent distraction. She closed her lids slightly, until her eyes became but two slits, and she even tilted herself forward, towards the figure of the Goddes, but her mind drifted away.

There was one tumultuous thought rumbling through Anela’s mind. A mindful fresco of her imagination, a wild steed with four crimson hoofs, beating the green pastures of her delight. In this idyllic picture there stood a fresh lake, made of perfectly still water, so still that not a wave moved, not even at the shore, where the silver line of liquid blended without interruption into a patch of grass, straight and soft, like certain hills, and steep, divided in two by a little gorge. Laying there, far from the hectic trifles of life, Anela crafted acrobatic entanglements with the beautiful lady Cecilia.

It was the work of a bright imagination, one which Anela had always prided herself of. And in her thoughts, the beautiful lady laid reclining on the patch of grass, her hand sliding from her chin along the neck and further, to the line of chainmail. Better. Anela imagined the lady without chainmail, covered instead in a rich silky fabric, of silver reflections, glowing like Cecilia’s skin glowed. Her hand turning, just before her bosom and returned towards the neck, along the jaw, up until the edge where it sharply turn to reach the ear. She moaned even, with a choir of angels as her voice, and reclined her head back arching her body.

Anela imagined sitting by the arched lady, caressing her shoulders, and pushing the tip of her fingers to climb Cecilia’s bosom, and gazing at the knees of the Goddess. Oh, she thought, I wish she were real! I wish she was just like this, with her beautiful silk fabric to cover her and her steel boots with the raised heel.

That’s when Anela opened her eyes again. She ejected her head forward, like a turtle sprinting out of her shell. Her eyes bulging as she finally noted that the magician, or Goddess, did wear indeed slanky war boots, clad in steel, encircled with mastery at the ankle, and with a sizable raised iron heel.

“Oh, by the heavens! Please be for real, I so want to believe in you.” whispered Anela, biting her lips.

If she had to play the part of the devotee, that would have been her Goddess: a shield-maiden that did not dress like a man. Let her be called the way she pleases, thought Anela, let her make all the fuss about her chastity, without which her prowess in battle begone; let her even amaze all of us with tricks unseen before. It was a fun game, to think of it, one which Anela felt more than inclined to play.

“Don’t go anywhere, please.” she said, and turned to the other girl gesturing her to voice their pleas together “Tell of your powers and of your battles. Firm standing the fact that for a pair of boots like yours, I’d too kill anybody on a battlefield.”
Mistakenly locked in a microwave at full power for 15 minutes. Serve with wine.
Banned for having a white background on a color-inverted terminal, which would show as black to any other onlooker, the summary of which is "get a transparent background, mate!".
A wonderfully cropped detail of color-inverted tapestry.
Jailed for publicly sniffing butterflies.
Your working bicycle gets a 9 to 5 job and then goes to the pub to smooth its squared edges with its colleagues.
You never see it.

I wish for a rocking chair.
The origami lion, master of the folds, incinerated with a magnifying glass.
Now we can stop fighting for nothing.
© 2007-2024
BBCode Cheatsheet