I am being seduced by a cheraphime, once.

It was 2 a.m again

2 a.m. I've come to a conclusion. I need a bigger blanket. Outside the window it's dark, but on the inside the desk lamp keep the darkness at a safe distance. I open the window to try and let some pure air in; the air inside has been wasted on stupid ideas and insignificant words. I pace around the room for a minute, trying to clear my head. I looked straight at the windows. Getting near to it and I saw nothing but dark there.

It's almost like a daydream. There's so much silence around me, like a coat to hide me. And i just keep walking, through the bedroom door, down the hallway and into the kitchen. The light comes on as i walk through the doorway. It's like daytime in there, but still no one is around. I continue out the other door and through the living room, and eventually through the front door. I walk across the front yard and run to enchanted garden of mine, the grass is wet and cold against my bare feet, and they start to go numb. I lay down in the grass, letting the early dew soak into my shirt and hair. I concentrate on the cold. It's so complete. I concentrate into the fragrant of rains that just came down. There's no hesitation in its attack. Like it knows I love it's feel. The sweet smart of the -almost frost and the growing numbness along my back and shoulders. Must be like dying. I close my eyes; when i open them I'm in my room again, lying down on the bed.

It's nearly 3. I can hear a soft whisper, though it's probably just in my head. It's gotten hot in here; i kick off my blanket. Too hot for it to be of any use. Good thing too. It's really too small now. And still I haven`t close my eyes. Sky still criying with its rain and while here I barely can`t cry anymore. I have no emotion toward anything now. So help me God.

The light comes off and over and outside the trees flash and fade away. Another night but just like the same night as yesterday. It seems like morning will never come. And you know how I love the night. It'll become a picture; a poster to hang on my wall, for me to stare up at until i fall asleep and forget the day didn't come. In the darkness i feel my hands whither away with all the thoughts i can't write down. These words are unspeakable. So help me God.

 

Ares looked down upon the group. He, a shapeshifter (the last of the Carpathian kind and also their prince)in human form, wondered if he could find a boon in these humans. His long raven black hair blew in the breeze, as his blue eyes glinted in the sunlight. He stroked his black goatee in thought. He looked upon himself dressed in a torn black tunic, black silk breeches, gold chainmail underneath his shirt, and worn black travelling boots. He looked every bit like a starving wanderer...and felt like it. His sword gave him a mercenary look, as did the scar across his face. Just as he began his decent down the hill towards the group,
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he felt a tap upon his shoulder. Ares turned around to see who had approached him, wary of any danger that may prsent itself. His gaze fell upon a man in a long hooded cloak; he could spy an eyepatch covering his left eye. The rest of his attire could just be glimpsed beneath his cloak - a black tunic, black leather pants, and solid black boots. He carried a travelling sack that was slung lazily across his shoulder, the contents of which were hidden from sight.

 

Let me know when you had tasted the blood of a gothic rose