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| Becula | Jun 18 2008, 04:42 PM |
Future Beloved Dictator of the World
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A killer's cold eyes glared down upon the city, narrowed, squinting slightly as she faced the rising sun, a wicked smile crossing her pale face as she stood on the tallest building in Bludhaven. The building surrounding her were tall, standing proud and filled with bustling lives, blood that would soon spill as the city crumbled to her feet. The air would be filled with the scent of blood, the air appropriately turning crimson. In the center of the fallen buildings, debris and corpses that littered the massive area,would stand on figure shedding no tears but smiling. In the center of chaos would stand Necromore. She was a young woman, slender and tall, grasping for the edge of adulthood. A pale and long haired beauty with eyes that pierced the core of one's being like the sharpest blade. Loose, lightweight dark clothes flowed back as the wind gently greeted her as no human would dare, the wind being all that could touch her and live. She held two blades at her side, each having been dipped in crimson and still dripping. Necromore raised a blade to her mouth, licking the blood off of it with no worry as to cutting her tongue. The same smile occurred, this time adorned with blood. The occasional taste pleased her, but it was not something indulged in. It was the taste of victory, the flavor of murder that tasted so sweet and still so warm in her mouth. She smirked as she looked behind her, a trail of blood drops and splatters marking the path she had taken to reach this rooftop. She had began by simply walking into the building, then easily slicing through everyone in her path, staining each floor with blood, painting the walls with death. She called herself an artist, these actions her art. She would never clean up after her sprees, they were something to be proud of, at least in her eyes. Necromore feared no one and nothing, she was fear. No one would ever catch her. She could go anywhere she pleased by simply disappearing into the shadows. This city was hers, no, this world was hers. And soon she would make that known to all. She would tell her story with every kill, write everything in blood. She would grasp the lives of millions in her bloodstained hands, and mold the world into her desires. |
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| Sweet Corruption (open) · Bludhaven | |
3:34 PM Nov 28
