#primordialreign

[textsfromdeltagreen-blog]

[textsfromdeltagreen-blog]

[dystopianarcher-blog]

We burn.

'Cause we love.

[dystopianarcher-blog]

God Called In Sick Today {Natasha, Duma, Lucifer, Raphael, Balthazar}

Blade searing through a demon's brain, a mad mad mad grin splitting rotten rotting flesh, and Raphael laughs - or better, cackles as the blood wets blade so Unholy it might burn.

A kick, the decapitated beast falls down, rolls off into nothingness. For now, they are at bay. And the lesser ones fear the Fallen nonetheless.

Next to him, a pride demon hisses. Fangs glistening, eyes burning in their skulls. The blood that mats Raphael's teeth, a tongue rushing over them.

"BALTHAZAR," Raphael turns towards him, screaming, then, as thunderclap and change in winds warns them that something - someone - is there. And that they must be quick.

"Now!"

[dystopianarcher-blog]

Can You Teach Me Love?

How can you measure love? You measure love  with: arrows shot, with: gunpowder burning, with: backs watched forever always.

How can you speak of love? You speak of love with: solitary nights spent reading, with: bookbinding taught to a girl with green eyes, with: promises of forever shared while watching suns rising.

How can you write of love? You write of love with: the feel of cold skin against warm lips, with: tattoos on battle scars and old TV shows, with: blind eyes that see deep into cherished hearts.

How can you sing of love? You sing of love as: the sun sets, as: old brothers and lovers are hidden in smiles, as: you dance on the beach and forget all the Fallen. 

How can you scream of love? You scream of love with: Horns in darkness, with: Hunters and Wolves, with: powers that will never truly lay to rest. 

And can you teach me love?

I cannot teach you, no, Blind One. I cannot show you, no, Lost One. I cannot see, he cannot speak.

But I can love you back, Hurt One. I can listen to your cries. And I can cherish all your pleas.

And I will let you hurt me, Fallen. 

And I will help you to run free.

O Fallen One; O Blessed One;

My Darling Dearest Brother still.

[nogravebuthestars-blog]

iustum necar reges impios. (a prelude to war)

open mouth, eyes that water, tongue that cannot speak. there's no need. undeniable. he feels it too. if your right arm was gone, the ripping would catch your notice. they both keel over as gods, mortals both rush to their aid. he can say nothing but a name: raphael. fuck. no. why. and in his twin's eyes there is nothing. only loss. pain. the presence has been disrupted, and brave and blonde the young doe tries to console hers, wings writhing as she speaks. her words fall on deaf ears. the crimson shadow, she stops her, early tears falling for tasks undone. "he was their brother." all explained, really. a god nods, and looks away. thinking of one who now shudders even in summer. his hawk, why won't he now fly away?  fevered sobs, two fraternal hands clutched like a rosary or hand grenade as a child's favorite nightmare puts head and horns in hollow hands limbs pulsing with the ancient drums of war. meanwhile, the sun sets. lucifer, who should be unaware, but it seems now an impossible task. even were inaction warranted, he is the fallen, not a deaf man. no one is blind now to the heavens lit with electric mourning.

In the beginning,

No angel cried.

Rather, they screamed.

In Pride; Hope

died.

[dystopianarcher-blog]

[NAT

NAT I CAN'T RESPOND TO YOUR REPLY BECAUSE I'M MOBILE

BUT YOU HAVE THIS WEIRD FRICKIN TENDENCY OF MAKING ME CRY AT TRAIN STATIONS]

[dystopianarcher-blog]

[ I swear to God if I don't come home to some heartfelt, bittersweet, non m!anoned, "we are all that remains of ancient worlds long forgotten" Horny Gods smooching, murders will happen.

You have been warned. ]