Search Results
7/24/2025, 2:55:10 AM
As if on cue, all the agony of your shattered body and broken bones catches up to you. It seems that even in this realm where time has slowed to a crawl and purest white has subsumed all of your senses, you cannot escape the pain of your defeat. You can feel every broken rib, the fractures running across your skull from the impact with the tree, the cracks on your arm where you took the blow from his shield, the blood seeping from your chest, the holes his spiked club punched into your stomach.
Pain and agony that give you context. That sharpens your senses instead of leaving them withered and dull. A single denarius floats before you, the silver tarnished black. On one side is the head of the Emperor whose reign saw the execution of the firstborn Son of He Whose Throne Lies Empty. On the reverse sits the figure of a woman, sceptre in one hand and olive branch in the other.
So what'll it be, bitch? You just gonna lie back and let this voidborn mongrel dog have his way with you? Let daddy come to your rescue after he's used you like a broken condom? You into that shit? I know you like it from the other side, but are you really gonna take do unto others that far?
Or are you gonna put on your big girl panties, accept my offer, and give him the oblivion he so dearly desires?
"You know..." you cough. It hurts to speak. Your lungs burn with every word you manage to push out of your mouth. You think you hate this angel and everything he stands for. Not the way you hate others of his kind, the vile apostates that worship the false god Luminare as though the Throne belonged to him. A different sort of hatred than that, you can't quite describe the feeling beyond hate. Hate for his way of speaking, his tone, his attitude, the way he calls you a bitch. It is a pure, distilled, unadulterated hate. "The funny thing is, I know you're playing me."
You reach out to smack the coin away.
No, that's just a lie you tell yourself. Your fingers don't close around it accidentally, no matter what platitudes you tell yourself.
"But you're right~"
=====
Pain.
Pain and light erupt from your body as an unseen force pushes you back onto your feet. Agony spreads throughout your veins like wildfire through the forest, searing your flesh and giving you the ever-so-intimate knowledge of how it feels to be burnt at the stake. A wordless scream erupts unsounded from your mouth, your vocal chords already burnt away and still in the process of healing. Your hands clutching at your breast, it takes every ounce of willpower to keep yourself from falling to your knees.
"Oh, what's this?" the abomination's voice echoes like a legion. "Your second wind, or your dying gasp? It matters not. Gaze upon my works and despair, for what was yours shall soon be mine. Your soldiers kneel before the void, embracing oblivion! Your women shall be next, and I can think of more than one way they can serve upon their knees."
Pain and agony that give you context. That sharpens your senses instead of leaving them withered and dull. A single denarius floats before you, the silver tarnished black. On one side is the head of the Emperor whose reign saw the execution of the firstborn Son of He Whose Throne Lies Empty. On the reverse sits the figure of a woman, sceptre in one hand and olive branch in the other.
So what'll it be, bitch? You just gonna lie back and let this voidborn mongrel dog have his way with you? Let daddy come to your rescue after he's used you like a broken condom? You into that shit? I know you like it from the other side, but are you really gonna take do unto others that far?
Or are you gonna put on your big girl panties, accept my offer, and give him the oblivion he so dearly desires?
"You know..." you cough. It hurts to speak. Your lungs burn with every word you manage to push out of your mouth. You think you hate this angel and everything he stands for. Not the way you hate others of his kind, the vile apostates that worship the false god Luminare as though the Throne belonged to him. A different sort of hatred than that, you can't quite describe the feeling beyond hate. Hate for his way of speaking, his tone, his attitude, the way he calls you a bitch. It is a pure, distilled, unadulterated hate. "The funny thing is, I know you're playing me."
You reach out to smack the coin away.
No, that's just a lie you tell yourself. Your fingers don't close around it accidentally, no matter what platitudes you tell yourself.
"But you're right~"
=====
Pain.
Pain and light erupt from your body as an unseen force pushes you back onto your feet. Agony spreads throughout your veins like wildfire through the forest, searing your flesh and giving you the ever-so-intimate knowledge of how it feels to be burnt at the stake. A wordless scream erupts unsounded from your mouth, your vocal chords already burnt away and still in the process of healing. Your hands clutching at your breast, it takes every ounce of willpower to keep yourself from falling to your knees.
"Oh, what's this?" the abomination's voice echoes like a legion. "Your second wind, or your dying gasp? It matters not. Gaze upon my works and despair, for what was yours shall soon be mine. Your soldiers kneel before the void, embracing oblivion! Your women shall be next, and I can think of more than one way they can serve upon their knees."
Page 1