Post by Ƨhatan on Dec 23, 2007 17:10:33 GMT -5
((Rawr, Sacrificial Resonance claims these lands for his own; fear him! xDD))
Ɔall Ʈo Ƨacrifice
We are
We are mistaken
We are the voices
Inside your head
Word Count: 548
Lyrics © Matchbook Romance, Bullet for my Valentine
Character and Post © Shatan[/size]
Ƨacrificial Ʀesonance
We are
We are the shaken
We are the monsters
Underneath your bed
[/b]We are
We are the shaken
We are the monsters
Underneath your bed
The call is made.
Hear that, bys and girls? That fierce cry, the thunder of hooves as they strike the ground in the hopes of killing it? See it coming, across the plain, a blur of brown streaked with black? There, can you see it? That is the Call to Sacrifice, and he’s come to town. Watch as he gallops through, his ebony banners flying from his chocolate form, his stained daggers tearing and ripping hungrily at the grasses, these already ravaged and destroyed grasses. He has no remorse, can you tell? He’s a killer, so you better watch out.
But what’s this? Something has caught his eye. He slows, his hooves thudding heavily into the ground to knock off his momentum as his cold orbs search the terrain before he speeds up again, heading now for a copse of trees, his legs eating the ground, covering it hungrily are the full potential of his strides. He stops, suddenly, throwing his weight back upon his haunches, his obsidian banners dancing and jerking to his motions. Daggers scar the land as he skids to a halt, lifting off again moments later in first a rear, a triumphant neigh spilling into the air, daggers clawing the air, hungrily tearing and ripping at it, before he came crashing back to earth, his rear followed next by a triumphant buck of victory, his hind hooves tearing at a foe only he could see.
Look here, see that? That will show you! Watch his blood stained hooves fly and tear through the air, pummeling the unseen opponent as he continues his show, galloping about, only to stop and rear, bucking as he continues, and finally, being still. His hooves skidded at last to a stop, his mane falling haphazardly about his neck, his ebony forelock in his eyes, his thick chest heaving, nostrils flaring as he drank in the air, hungrily swallowing it, gorging himself upon it, all the while his chocolate orbs glinted in excitement, his gaze jumping from one thing to the next, continuing his wild dance though his body was still.
He summoned his strength and gave one last rear, his weight thrown powerfully into the air as he danced on hind hooves, tearing and ripping at the air, stabbing and slicing with daggers of stained ivory. He summoned one last thunderous call before his body gave out and he crashed to the ground on four hooves, his chest heaving all the more as he fell silent, but as he gulped in the air, his expression was anything but exhausted: his eyes continued to dance, and from his mouth spilled a chuckle in between his breath, a strained sound, but he didn’t care.
This land, it was perfect. Ravaged by fire, scarred by destruction, drinking in the blood of animals burned to death. It was a slaughter-tastic land, the very domain of death, of sin, of darkness, of sacrifice. It was his. He slammed a dagger into the ground, his body refusing any further action, though he still staked his claim. Look out, boys and girls, your in the Sinful Utopia, and Sacrificial Resonance is watching you; you’d better run and hide, or the next time he decides to celebrate, it may be you and not the air which his hooves rip and tear.
Hear that, bys and girls? That fierce cry, the thunder of hooves as they strike the ground in the hopes of killing it? See it coming, across the plain, a blur of brown streaked with black? There, can you see it? That is the Call to Sacrifice, and he’s come to town. Watch as he gallops through, his ebony banners flying from his chocolate form, his stained daggers tearing and ripping hungrily at the grasses, these already ravaged and destroyed grasses. He has no remorse, can you tell? He’s a killer, so you better watch out.
But what’s this? Something has caught his eye. He slows, his hooves thudding heavily into the ground to knock off his momentum as his cold orbs search the terrain before he speeds up again, heading now for a copse of trees, his legs eating the ground, covering it hungrily are the full potential of his strides. He stops, suddenly, throwing his weight back upon his haunches, his obsidian banners dancing and jerking to his motions. Daggers scar the land as he skids to a halt, lifting off again moments later in first a rear, a triumphant neigh spilling into the air, daggers clawing the air, hungrily tearing and ripping at it, before he came crashing back to earth, his rear followed next by a triumphant buck of victory, his hind hooves tearing at a foe only he could see.
Look here, see that? That will show you! Watch his blood stained hooves fly and tear through the air, pummeling the unseen opponent as he continues his show, galloping about, only to stop and rear, bucking as he continues, and finally, being still. His hooves skidded at last to a stop, his mane falling haphazardly about his neck, his ebony forelock in his eyes, his thick chest heaving, nostrils flaring as he drank in the air, hungrily swallowing it, gorging himself upon it, all the while his chocolate orbs glinted in excitement, his gaze jumping from one thing to the next, continuing his wild dance though his body was still.
He summoned his strength and gave one last rear, his weight thrown powerfully into the air as he danced on hind hooves, tearing and ripping at the air, stabbing and slicing with daggers of stained ivory. He summoned one last thunderous call before his body gave out and he crashed to the ground on four hooves, his chest heaving all the more as he fell silent, but as he gulped in the air, his expression was anything but exhausted: his eyes continued to dance, and from his mouth spilled a chuckle in between his breath, a strained sound, but he didn’t care.
This land, it was perfect. Ravaged by fire, scarred by destruction, drinking in the blood of animals burned to death. It was a slaughter-tastic land, the very domain of death, of sin, of darkness, of sacrifice. It was his. He slammed a dagger into the ground, his body refusing any further action, though he still staked his claim. Look out, boys and girls, your in the Sinful Utopia, and Sacrificial Resonance is watching you; you’d better run and hide, or the next time he decides to celebrate, it may be you and not the air which his hooves rip and tear.
Ɔall Ʈo Ƨacrifice
We are
We are mistaken
We are the voices
Inside your head
Word Count: 548
Lyrics © Matchbook Romance, Bullet for my Valentine
Character and Post © Shatan[/size]
