#mc crezentials

[baronofthewillows]

Could I be so bold?

To tell you the whispers in my ears

As you glimpse into empty eyes

The sweet mother

telling her little child to come home

Lost little child with no soul

To come home

To be home

To be a memory once more

[baronofthewillows]

Truth be told I don't remember writing this but it's a nice piece.

Er, nice in my terms.

tw: death

Risk. A calculated gamble.

She trembled as she felt energy drain out of her as if her life blood was pooling on the floor. But it wasn’t blood, no, it was the essence of life, her life. Watched the glowing eyes through the helm stare at her sternly, felt the hand stroke her cheek, and felt the life leech away from her.

Familiar, she thought to herself, but even then she was scared, scared, because no one had known her like the way the god did, her talks diminished easily by the ridiculously pink haze that was flowing out of her body.

She didn’t know everything, but more than typical was enough.

She was tempted to take out the vial and drink it in front of her, to retrieve what solace it offered, the burning pain that made her feel invigorated, even as she died, because dying wasn’t so bad, or at least she told herself that the many times that occurred before. She didn’t know how much her body believed that as it trembled in fear of her demise.

A strange thought fluttered through her mind then. I want to kiss her. Was it merely because her companion had mentioned his kiss? But it flittered away as she felt burning pain in her chest, right above her heart.

She relented. Vial or no vial, truth or lie, she was going to die anyway, so with a tongue that worked against her, she confessed. And when the vial clattered, mostly empty, she was surprised. Had she really drank that much of the blood?

She told the truth. There wasn’t that much to hide, and it wasn’t something dear to her. She knew it would be just be another factor added to the ways she would be tormented. Even behind the armor she could see the eyes light up with the thought.

It was part of the gamble. Though the ent wasn’t.

Play the struggle. Refuse the drink. Have it be forced down your throat. But her pain and fear was genuine. The world crumbled. The sun rose high in the sky as the ground seemed to waver and shake under her footsteps. A beast crowed, and each touch was a jolt of nerves that screeched down her spin.

Everything hurt. The bridge collapsed and she clung to the rails in desperation, her heart thudding while fiery hell coursed through her veins. She limped up the stairs but they started to spin, and headed down through a long tunnel. Or was it up?

She clung to the floor as the spider appear, grotesque, large, six eyes gleaming, her dagger a puny sliver against the gargantuan. It screeched and clawed at her arm and bit it, before she stabbed it repeatedly.

Blood. Her arm and side were on fire. Was it hers, or the spider’s? She swung, and it struck back, tearing her shirt but it scrabbled away. Cold ice and wire tore into her face as she felt the grainy surface on the stairs. Footsteps clattered softly, a mocking voice piercing her hazy mind.

She didn’t care. Things whispered and pulled. The impact was horrible, molten lava flashed against her body, then wires grafted her body as she sunk into a pool of blood, before realizing it was a sofa. Something on her back fluttered. Wings? Death was better. Death was better than constant fear and pain, everything an enemy.

She laughed. Couldn’t stop laughing. Her throat burned and her body protested but the giggles shook her body. She was going mad, or was she? Tears threatened to stream down her face, as hot blades dug into her leg and throat. But it was so hilarious, to see herself like this, craving death instead of living. Words had been reduced down to crowing shrieks and giggles, the bare bones of hysteria as fire tore apart at her skin.

Then tiredness, a darkness that slipped in through her overzealous mind, told her to sleep, told her to close the tear stained eyes. It sat calmly on top of her thudding heart and told the highways of anxious roads to slow down, the gleaming eyes watching her, as her gasps involuntarily became sighs. She slipped, spiraled down into empty skies, the pain only a hazy smog, invisible against the darkened skies.

She slept.

[baronofthewillows]

Poetic thing attempt.

Warnings: Indication of death and burning alive.

Because the best way to cherish someone you love is to smelt them and turn them into a weapon right.

Gleaming metal through a blood stained chest

She falls, barely a gasp of surprise

On cooling lips.

It hits the warm, blackened bricks

With a soft thud

Scarlet trickling from underneath.

Burnished ore, gleaming fragments

One by one implemented

Within the belly.

Time ticks by, heat rising

A gasp of breath from the body

Then a scream, agonizing, burning.

Blackened fingers claw at the glass

Before slipping into molten

Blue, the metal swallowing her cries.

Silence again.

Well worn muscle, fine tuned nerves,

Fine bones, blood thick with with tar,

Melting into soft, shimmering azure.

The metal sings as it,

sinks the void child down into

nothing but ashes and

power.

Her screams can no

longer be heard

except for those who

listen in other ways.

The very essence

trapped in the shimmering cobalt

her very spirit

shaped into wreathed death.

It doesn't sing of sleep

but rather whispers

the melodies of eroding

life as the metal gleams.

A sharpened edge

cooled in the silver waters

with a touch softer

than silk.

The god takes

The bound handle

And smiles.

Forever

Is the word that passes

sweetly from loving

lips and maddened eyes.

[baronofthewillows]

Safety

Characters: MC Crezentials, Clovis

Words: 166

Crez remembered that a long time ago, he really wasn't fond of contact. Too much pulling and pain, so he had generally shied away from it.

And yet, now, he craved it.

His arms tugged Clovis closer, his face pressed up against her neck as she wrapped her arms and legs around him, almost like a cocoon. Crez kissed the nape of her neck softly, feeling her shiver.

He buried his face into Clovis' shirt, smelling the sweet scent of some sort of medicine; she nuzzled his hair, her arms locked around his back. A small, warm place that would always be safe. He was still afraid of sleeping, yes, but here, it felt as if everything would be fine for now.

She muttered something in her sleep, foreign tongue he didn't know, but it sounded like a soft lullaby in his ears, soothing like the heat of Clovis' temperature. He smiled, his eyes closed, wishing that the moment would stay this way, and nothing else.

[baronofthewillows]

Excerpt from Dream Sequence shit I wrote in maths to stay awake AGAIN because yeah

He stands in a clearing, watching a fair haired lady scamper up a tree. Her locks frame a flushed face, fresh with fingernail wounds. A red scarf trails behind her.

"Zircon!" He turns toward the sound, an echo of familiarity ringing in his mind. She does too, but her silver tongued blade flashes in the shadows, reflecting the full moon.

"Zircon! Alive, youthful, my fairest. Tell me your secrets. Show me your ways. COME OUT OF HIDING AND TELL ME YOU BITCH."

A scarred man yells fruitlessly at the trees, gripping a dark, black crystal engraved with an odd, glowing rune. Even in the memory he can feel the way his self recoils from it. And yet...

She drops on him, silently, her weight sinking the dagger neatly through the neck. The man doesn't even have a moment to cry out, his face barely registering surprise before he topples over.

He steps out into the moonlight, and she turns to him, her shadow growing, her eyes two pits of glazed, glimmering dark pits of void. There's still the scarlet wounds on her face, but as the dark pulls away the moonlight, her figure shifts like water, the soft, young figure becoming more lanky, her hair retreating into a choppy haircut, hazelnut brown.

He looks at them. The lips part. "This is who I am, the ████. Only a ██████. Bound. Betrayed."

"What?" But the memory slips away, and the last thing he glimpses is him sighing over his older, dead self, picking up the gem with care and tucking it inside a scarlet scarf.

[baronofthewillows]

Sometimes in the middle of my scattered dreams

Nightmares, memories, indistinguishable

I ask myself

Am I remembering you?

Or are you becoming me?

But there's no answer

Because there's only one of us

And yet I don't know which one is breathing

and which one is dying.