Post by mantorok on Apr 22, 2009 9:38:37 GMT -5
((Beware, thar be spiders here.))
A day had passed since Korse had wandered off from him, and still she plagued his every thought. The night was falling once more, its thick, black tendrils ripping the blue from the sky until naught remained but small pinpoints of blazing white light, almost all doused out by the mechanical lights of this world. Those eyes. That flawless skin. He knew well what lust was, but, it was not what he felt. He wished for her voice, that nonchalance, that...life. The life that was so evident in her, yet, so absent from him.
He wandered the dark streets like a lost soul, millions of spiders of all shapes and sizes pouring out of the gutters, clambering down from open apartment windows. They gathered about him, chittering and hissing, clinging to him like a long-lost friend. They climbed underneath his robes whenever they had the chance, and soon, he stopped, concerned for his children. He chittered back, allowing them to crawl into his hands, and all about his form. Wherever he stepped, they parted, unafraid of being crushed underfoot, they kept in perfect time. They parted like a crowd did for their King in days of old, as he marched off to war. There would be no blaring, happy trumpets for him, bellowing tunes of war and victory, merely the sorrowful voices of a long-dead choir, singing about the Day of Tears and the Day of Wrath.
He knew not where his long wandering took him. The city was still clearly visible, but, he was no longer within its all-encompassing boundaries. The arachnids still followed him in his funeral march. He noticed a large, ruined building. He remembered when these types of structures used to be common, when they had all dotted Europe in their splendor, hailing a God who never answered their pleas and cries. He had laughed at their futility, he had even gone so far as to pose as God several times, and in their zeal, they never questioned. Now, he could only look upon the unhallowed structure and feel as empty as it was. Much had changed. Much would still come to change. He could not bring himself to care for the passing of the epochs and eras of Man, but the structure was beautiful in its own way. Yet, here it stood, abandoned, alone. Spiders crawled forth from the old abandoned structure even as he walked towards it, parting the old, decrepit doors, creaking on their rusty hinges as he passed.
The inside had seemed to have worn the test of time no better than its facade, old, mouldering pews, the altar covered with dust, and an old, worn pipe organ sitting completely forgotten, its rusty throats longing to sing again in reverence. Perhaps he would give them a different tune to sing. His children clambered along, crawling over the pews, along the walls, until he took a seat at the old pipe organ. He looked at its keys, yellowed from disuse. While he had never once played an instrument in his long life, after a thousand or so years of watching music evolve, he could say that he could probably manage to at least create a sound that he favoured.
Slowly, he began playing, simply hitting keys in a succession that he found suiting. A simple, somber, and depressing tune echoed from the organ, his children dancing between his fingers as he hit each key. Soon, though, he made the song more and more complex, and although it retained its sadness, the passion of that sadness increased tenfold, until it echoed all throughout the church in its wretched glory. A mere minute passed, and soon, it became a song of great anger, the organ roared in its fury as its player masterfully hit each key, the little ones staying clear of the keyboard all together in fear and respect of their newfound Master. The rage was evident, the fury spread like a stoked flame, and soon, not even the thick, crumbling walls of the church could contain it. Shadows deepened rapidly, and the song roared throughout the area. Dark flames soon began to manifest, and with that, the song reached its peak. He quickly doused the dark fire, lest this place burn to the ground. He moved silently to sit upon one of the pews, still lost in the fury of what had come to pass.
He remembered the emotion ever so vaguely…it had been a long time since he felt it. So long. He remembered it all too clearly now, and for that, he despised himself even further. His chittering children gathered closer as if to comfort him.
It was love. He was in love.
A day had passed since Korse had wandered off from him, and still she plagued his every thought. The night was falling once more, its thick, black tendrils ripping the blue from the sky until naught remained but small pinpoints of blazing white light, almost all doused out by the mechanical lights of this world. Those eyes. That flawless skin. He knew well what lust was, but, it was not what he felt. He wished for her voice, that nonchalance, that...life. The life that was so evident in her, yet, so absent from him.
He wandered the dark streets like a lost soul, millions of spiders of all shapes and sizes pouring out of the gutters, clambering down from open apartment windows. They gathered about him, chittering and hissing, clinging to him like a long-lost friend. They climbed underneath his robes whenever they had the chance, and soon, he stopped, concerned for his children. He chittered back, allowing them to crawl into his hands, and all about his form. Wherever he stepped, they parted, unafraid of being crushed underfoot, they kept in perfect time. They parted like a crowd did for their King in days of old, as he marched off to war. There would be no blaring, happy trumpets for him, bellowing tunes of war and victory, merely the sorrowful voices of a long-dead choir, singing about the Day of Tears and the Day of Wrath.
He knew not where his long wandering took him. The city was still clearly visible, but, he was no longer within its all-encompassing boundaries. The arachnids still followed him in his funeral march. He noticed a large, ruined building. He remembered when these types of structures used to be common, when they had all dotted Europe in their splendor, hailing a God who never answered their pleas and cries. He had laughed at their futility, he had even gone so far as to pose as God several times, and in their zeal, they never questioned. Now, he could only look upon the unhallowed structure and feel as empty as it was. Much had changed. Much would still come to change. He could not bring himself to care for the passing of the epochs and eras of Man, but the structure was beautiful in its own way. Yet, here it stood, abandoned, alone. Spiders crawled forth from the old abandoned structure even as he walked towards it, parting the old, decrepit doors, creaking on their rusty hinges as he passed.
The inside had seemed to have worn the test of time no better than its facade, old, mouldering pews, the altar covered with dust, and an old, worn pipe organ sitting completely forgotten, its rusty throats longing to sing again in reverence. Perhaps he would give them a different tune to sing. His children clambered along, crawling over the pews, along the walls, until he took a seat at the old pipe organ. He looked at its keys, yellowed from disuse. While he had never once played an instrument in his long life, after a thousand or so years of watching music evolve, he could say that he could probably manage to at least create a sound that he favoured.
Slowly, he began playing, simply hitting keys in a succession that he found suiting. A simple, somber, and depressing tune echoed from the organ, his children dancing between his fingers as he hit each key. Soon, though, he made the song more and more complex, and although it retained its sadness, the passion of that sadness increased tenfold, until it echoed all throughout the church in its wretched glory. A mere minute passed, and soon, it became a song of great anger, the organ roared in its fury as its player masterfully hit each key, the little ones staying clear of the keyboard all together in fear and respect of their newfound Master. The rage was evident, the fury spread like a stoked flame, and soon, not even the thick, crumbling walls of the church could contain it. Shadows deepened rapidly, and the song roared throughout the area. Dark flames soon began to manifest, and with that, the song reached its peak. He quickly doused the dark fire, lest this place burn to the ground. He moved silently to sit upon one of the pews, still lost in the fury of what had come to pass.
He remembered the emotion ever so vaguely…it had been a long time since he felt it. So long. He remembered it all too clearly now, and for that, he despised himself even further. His chittering children gathered closer as if to comfort him.
It was love. He was in love.