I HAVE BECOME DEATH
the destroyer of worlds
TAGGED: ... | WORDS: ### | NOTES: ...
I know that all beneath the moon decays,
The storyteller spoke, rustling the leaves of the trees, whispering inward tales of malice, betrayal, death, and decay. Sparks danced through its torrent, ashen dots on the sky as they twisted and twirled to the inaudible music of the world. They fluttered and flew toward the base land, toward the place that they would call their home once settled delicately. This wind, it said nigh of the tale from which it carried this ash, just that it blew it toward what would be its home. Through the woods of Spooky Forest, entangling in the leaves that chose to bow to the storytelling lord. A story which couldn't be easily told, but easily listened to when the wind spoke of the decadence of Death. How this story would play out... the wonders to which this ash was born and driven from, away to a new world.
And what by mortals in this world is brought,
By and by, these ashen splatters swirled, until they reached the placid lands of the ancient world. They fumbled together, shifted and turned; first the touch of fingers, then the grace of a hand, then the elegance of an arm. Crushed one by one into the shape of a man, till the last drop of the ash created the billowing cloak of this figure. The wind, savoring its creation, smiled upon this man, ruffled the coal that was his hair, and played through his blood-stained clothes. Then as if frightened by a predator, the prey ran, and the wind disappeared from the tatters and tears of the fabric. Crunching of the feet, and this man made his way toward the doors of Savage Skull, dying sparks watching the world. This door creaked open, and the echos of feet sung their melody into the crisp air, where the man stopped.
In Time’s great periods shall return to nought;
The door that he had touched crumbled to pieces like the agony of waiting for time to pass to something new. Crumbled, until nothing was left, but the ash of what had been... and so began the death of what was around him. That which was beneath his feet would turn to black, to the color of which Death would make it once life was taken. He paid no mind to this, as if what was happening around him was something he was entirely used to seeing. Perhaps, this was true. Perhaps, it was the death of which had come to things that left this man mindless to it. Standing now, in this world of black and death, this man would wait for someone to cross paths with him. This man... Marcel... stood with his arms crossed and his back stiff as a board, watching for what prey would land in his trap.
I know that all beneath the moon decays
credit goes to Lunar of GS & THQ