my soul to tears.

[samuraicinema]

[variiae-blog]

             enticed by the samurai’s words; left her knees feeling w e a k as the gap ‘tween herself and the latter began to close. the eye of the storm calls forth to the forest as her life is for the taking, and the challenge to live through such an event will take place. lifting herself from the ground, staff placed back into her grasp, she looks to the swordsman as a protective feeling overcame her as the storm approached. leaves rustled around them as tethered clothes remained untouched. yes, the game of life or death awaited the two behind barriers she has placed upon the two but it is words that leave her in a trance state. ’ i am BOUND to the earth we walk among, swordsman. not even the death of a thousand men could free me. ' ——— devil’s advocate ; she would play with the young and the foolish to set herself loose from the grasp that has her. a beast, she became as those poor unfortunate souls tried to hold onto something mother nature cherishes. with the shield placed upon the two, true powers seemed to be exposed as the eye of the storm passed. pendant shined bright within the darkness as a small, visible, breeze appeared among their feet.

                     ❝ set me free, swordsman. ——— take me away. a canvas, my body shall be with blood seeping through the cracks. a title you’ll have for yourself afterwards; H E R O. ❞

[yahsuo-blog]

 &  needy  hunger  hell  has  yet  to  offer,  my  temptress,  your  body  is greedy  for  those  tiny  little  bruises  scattered  along  MANGLED  spine  as always  because  you’re  so  terribly  selfish  &  they’re  a  proof  of  edens  work.  have  you  ever  wondered  how  power  felt, hm ?  c o r r u p t i o n  seems  too  little  a  word  to  describe  the  taste  of  venom  across  dry  lips.    ‘ Prophesy  to  the  breath,  prophesy,  beauty  of  death,  and  say  to  the  breath --  I  am  no  hero  and  such  a  title. .  ‘ He,  the  lost  spirit  of breeze  can  cause  the  east  wind  to  blow  in  the  heavens   and  by  his  power.  He  directed  the  south  wind,  blade  unaltered  of  exposure. In  a  instance  of  life  o r death,  tethered  together  by  a thin  thread,  he  had  the  nerve  to  just  ignore  what  she  had  said.  Dismissing  anything  as if  she  was  a  passing  period.  ‘  to  expose  this  blade  upon  your  pale  skin,  is  meaningless. ‘  movement  slow  as  if   sinews  are  coated  in  tar.  ‘  it  is  not  my  duty  to  take  you  away,  temptress. ‘    Eagerness  blended  well  with  hushed  whispers,  raspy  when  heard.  Brightly  canid,  observing  sullen  lips  part  and  spout  further  grievance  which  came  her  way.   ‘  your  time  alike  mine  will  come.  ‘  

[exoriia-deactivated20161124]

———-     FRIEND OR  foe? precarious flicks of golden eyes, back && forth to the wayward ronin that had came into view. travelling through the lone road, it was only her blade && strength that she had came to trust, anyone && anything else was left in question. lone crescent moon hangs on the deep black canvas, darkness cloaks everything besides the illumination from fireflies. gloved hand lingers near the handle of her blade, inhales —- cautious && prepared.   ❝ state your business. ❞ 

@yahsuo approaches.

[yahsuo-blog]

 Enforced  brush  of  opposition  is  garnered  into  MOMENTUM,  rotation  of  one’s  own  frame  being  granted.  And  o,  it  is  overture  that  is  summoned  forth.  Fortune  and  grace  exasperating  upon  subtle  gaze.  An  expulsion  of  concentrated  energy  in  turn  had  r u p t  u  r  e  d   from  the  armament  of  duality,  to  withhold  the  buttcap  of  his  blade  in  pre- caution.  has  the  aura  this  unknown  traveler  ---  caused  the  flight  of  wind  to  shift  in  a  dimensional  inconsistent  state,  unhitching  the  handle  from  his  hip  in  discretion,  he  held  the  SHEATHED  tip ----  ‘  just  looking  for  a  road  home, ‘  pausing  for  the  breeze  of  the  wind  to  hinder  steel  ‘ though  my  business  is  non  of  your  concern,  out  lander.  speak  your  trade  in  these  lands. ‘ 

[lovetcp-archived]

@yahsuo​ || set sail!

                     It had been weeks, months even before sarah had returned to port. She couldnt help but shake this feeling that someone was watching her along the journey along with the subtle hints of helpfulness. Moments passed, before footsteps echo’d into her ears. Digits curled around the base of her pistols before drawing them on figure infront “So you’re the mysterious person who’s been watching me over my travels, giving harmless breezes into my sails. What purpose do you have here?”

[yahsuo-blog]

 Gait  plenteous  of  elegance  &  emanating  regality  in  his  aura  —  whether  'twas  subconscious ,  the samurai  commanded  naught  but  attention,  awe  &  r e s p e c t    whensoever  he  came,  not  withstanding  the  fact  that  he truly  abhorred  the  aforementioned.  ‘  the  whistling  breeze  ---  the  bar  rats  calls  for  your  death,  yet  i  see  he  rumors  are  false  prophesies, ‘  the  male  contracted  to  kill  for  money, make’s  it  mercy’s  wish  to  see  if  they  do  deserve  to  die  by  his  soul  ravenous  blade. ‘  puncturing  my  blade  through  your  lungs   with  a   quick  death  ----   is  pointless. ‘  

[rpmusings-galore]

                                     —–      This  ιѕ  тнe  paтн  ι  нave  cнoѕen

                                     —–      &&  ι  can'т  тυrn  вacĸ, now

[kmoviesmut]

[wnq-writers]

I am a different person to different people. Annoying to one. Talented to another. Quiet to a few. Unknown to a lot. But who am I, to me?

dream-jackson (via wnq-anonymous)

[variiae-blog]

             soft laughter is heard from the temptress as she finds the man to be nothing more than fascinating. out of all the men she has crossed paths with; personally, she feels that the samurai is one that best suits her taste in conversing with. having her staff placed on the floor, she is rather defenseless and quite vulnerable to any slashes that may be thrown at her ( not that she wasn’t deserving of a brutal death ). ——— ’ … et occidere eum. libera te … ’ zephyr. a voice she can only hear spoke to her and it made her feel i n s a n e. death by the hands of a stranger she just met seems unjust, but it would feel as though his blade could release the temptress from her internal suffering. nonetheless, she wants to poke at the samurai a bit more before making any judgement ( possibly before she calls forth a storm to rain on their little parade ).

                     ❝ … i CRAVE death, swordsman. it is the only way to set me free; the wind dies along with me. how cruel it would be to be cursed with such powers even in the afterlife …  ❞

[yahsuo-blog]

 Brass  shall  eclipse  the  s i l k  of  her  voice,  cold  tonality  twined  ‘twixt  rich timber  of  serpentine  tongue  poised  neath  jagged  ivories  (  come  now, goddess,  you  fathom  naught  of  the  tragedy  you  speak  !  you  are  a FOOL. ‘ The  tragedy  of  life  is  not death  but  what  we  allow  to  die  inside  of  us  while  we  are  alive, ‘   Through  exposure,  through  their  actions,  they  are  slowly  taken  in  by  the  forests  grasp;  unable  to  prevent  the  inevitability  of  the  suctioning  singularity  ---  those  unaccustomed  few  bear  a  heavy  weight  unlike  any  before;  suppressing  thirsty  pours,  igniting  exhaustion  within  craving  pockets  of  delicate,  aired flesh. Stature  is  that  of  carelessness,  perpetuating  a  poor  image,  though  in  fact  none  had  come  to  dwell  within,  and  without  there  came  a  coarse,  abrasive  shell  fending  off  the  unwanted,  death  an  embrace  few  can sustain  in  the  abbreviation  of  eden. A  smirk  is  what  he  offered  the  woman. ‘ ---  will  the  death  of  a  thousands  of  men  free  you,  temptress. or  like  i . . are  you  burden  to  wander   the  land  in  search  of  answers. ‘ now  you  bid  such  twisted  games.  beckoning  shattered  kings  with  tarnished  thrones  to  play  a  fiddled  battle  of  desperate  enticement.  angel,  are  you  my  death’s  gamble. 

[bladesurgence]

— @yahsuo

     Moonlight paints her austere face.

     A cluster of fig leaves spiral downwards in a lazy helix. The wind’s echoes permeate the thin walls of the structure, greeting her arrival with a chilling omen.

     This is no abandoned warehouse.

     She has arrived on accounts that squatters had laid claim to the abandoned armory that the government looks to rehabilitate. But the silhouettes that linger upon the walls hide no simple trespasser. Blades recline at her side, poised to strike at the slightest provocation.

     “If you are of the living, it would be wise to leave. If you are a ghost, it would be wise to come forth, so that I may put you to rest.”

[yahsuo-blog]

 Pondering  past  events,  amidst  soft  breezes  under  his  circumstances  who  witnessed  one  too - many  battles.  Carvings  deeply  embedded,  slashed  indentations  told  such  tales  with  pride. Presence  approaching  the  succumbs  of  his  life.  Sadistic  imitations  of  t o r t u r e  to  remind  you  that  the  world  was  never  a  wish  granting  factory.  he’s  USED  to  it,  though,  fragility  is  no  longer  a  virgin  to  death’s  fury, speaking  to  the  wind;  his  only  road.              ‘ without  fail,  everyone  will  disappear,  scattered  into  the  blackness  of  the  wind, ---- ‘  well  have  you  noticed  those  unmarked  graves ?  those  nameless  tombs  awaiting  a  lifeless  body  in  ionia ?  Pressed  lips  stiffen,  brows  descended,  wrinkles  displayed,  clearly  shown  visible  disgruntlement.  Voice  preached  with  slow  movement. ‘ spirit  or  human --  there’s  no  difference.  we’re  all  stuck  regardless. ‘ mantled  fingertips  conveyed  his  blade  in  response  to  mystery,  free -  lanced  digits  guarded  his  drink. ‘  is  that  all ? ‘ 

[malgorzatasajur]

[deadtalonblog151]

“  No.  I prefer to remember, and be in control at all times.  It’s the nature of my job.  “

He never quite pictured he’d be holding such a civil conversation with an Ionian of all things.  Though, is it really that civil?  Probably not.  He sneers.

“  People who wish to forget their mistakes are cowards.  And don’t call me kid–I’m probably closer to your age than you think.  “

[yahsuo-blog]

‘ Control?  is  a  fool’s  wish. ‘  Steel  nerves  compacted  tightly,  compressed for  these  matters, these  certain  situations.  Breath  evenly  paced,  of intervals  easily  counted  and  numbered, another  large  intake  before  speech  continue.  ‘  six  pounds  of  pressure,  that's  all that is required  to  kill  a  man ---  the  wind  whistles  screams,  and  horrors.  control  is  nothing  but  a dream. ‘  Words  scattered  in  impact,  this  is  a  fool’s  gamble.  ‘  but  more  for  me  ‘,  to  convince --  that  wasn’t  his  job. 

[yahsuo-blog]

@vixening

 she  is  chaotic  adjurations,  d e a r e s t,  such  deranged  WRECK  of cruelty’s  VERDICTS  ( a  frail  hand  seeks  anchor,  finding  only  his  )  on how  this  tragic  tale  would  eventually  come  to  a  disappointing  finish !  have  you  ever  seen  a  supernova  collapse,  hm?  men  befalling  at death’s  door  in  an  instance.  ‘  what  are  you?  ‘ 

[dreamthisismyworld]

[deadtalonblog151]

@yahsuho liked for a starter!

“  No.  Get that swill out of my face.  I don’t drink.  “

[yahsuo-blog]

'  if  you  can't  be  happy  at  least  you  can  be  drunk,  kid. ‘  Subtle  is  the  grunt  that  forms in  one’s  throat,  an  appendage  lifting  INSTINCTIVELY  to  brush  at  the  point  of  contact, inhaling  the toxins  of  the  poisoning  pleasure. ‘  take  it  from  me ---  you’d  rather  forget. ‘ 

[variiae-blog]

             hearing his statement only reminds her of the feelings she carries for the power she possesses. a burden to those around her; death is the sentence all have payed for ’ loving ’ a broken soul. if one man or woman could take away her life then the curse shall be uplifted and returned back to the mistress that bestowed it upon her. slender arms crossed over her abdomen region as she could not pull herself to distance thine’s self from the samurai. endangered she should feel as it is but a simple ol’ wives tale that a maiden and a strange man need not be alone in the dark after hours; she did not care. ———’ yasuo ’. he says his name is. a name sounding rather familiar as she believes that the people within piltover have spoken his name once or twice. ( could it be that this is the man whose master was slain right before their own eyes ? ). a gust of wind hit their feet as the staff is calling forth such a gentle breeze.

                     ❝ you walked into a forest that i have claimed as my own for reasons that shall not be said. the dirt we stand upon; what lies underneath are the taken lives of the innocent. tell me, do you still see me as the angel the tales have told you about? ❞

[yahsuo-blog]

 ‘ don’t  be  so  presumptuous,  temptress ‘  Unmoved  is  he ( save  for  the  tension  of  r e a d  i n e s s  throughout  the fiber-work  of  muscle ).  Even  now  as  eyes  fall  to  that  of  statuesque opposition,  and  sculpted  brow  line  furrows  accordingly.  On  guard, regardless  of  intimidation’s  LACK.  By  fate  &   heaven-  sent  gifting.  So  a lateral  of  lithe  extremities  pats  against  the  frayed  blade  handle  of  one’s crown.  And  lo,  rows  of  ivory  find  exposure’s  grace.  A  semblance  gives way  to  contentment’s  rarity.  the  devil  was  once  an  angel.  ‘  an  angel  in  appearance,  a  goddess  if  anything,  but  the  tale’s  the  wind  whispered  were  ill. ‘  He  listens  closely  to  the  w i n d ...  it  is  the  sound  of  leaves  in  the  trees,  dancing  &  writing  beautiful  poetry  across  the  skies.  a  lovers  affair,  traveling  distance  for  eternity.  It  goes  without  saying  that  their  is  silence  that  enforces  itself  to    the  likeness  of  reality.  ‘ tell  me,  praise  me  with  your  voice  and  answer  me  this  if  you  possess  any  intention  of  bloodshed;  does  the  wind  flee,  or  does  it  follow?  ‘

[perfectfeelings]

[yahsuo-blog]

@bombsandglitter

 There  is  unbridled  distaste  that  paints  itself  across  a  mien  bathed  in the likeness  of  chaos’  presence.  For  it  is  hues  of  mauve  that  catch  a RAGE  of  kinship  to  war.  And  lo,  there  is  a  firmness  that  lifts  past  supple  grooves.  ‘ are  you  done  running,  kid. ‘  commentate  at  foot,  for  wind  transverses  faster  than  words.