Welcome To CK5!
Registering is free and easy! Hope to see you on the forums soon.
Score a FREE t-shirt and membership sticker when you sign up for a Premium Membership and choose the recurring plan.
Discussion in 'The Lounge' started by Resurrection_Joe, Nov 26, 2006.
When we shot her in the head, butterflies came out
She didn't have a lot to think about, did she?
I'm sorry,tha twas mean.
What are you tryin t say?
We walked in the shadows, much to thier distaste, such was our sin.
Every red we saw was blood red, every grey, gunmetal, even the blues took on a perversion of soul.
There were a thousand bricks in the wall, each one slightly different. We were searching for the one that hid a path, a button, an object, a way out.
We walked along the riverbank... there was litter everywhere, and the wind was cruel. Debris floated along like the tellings of shipwrecks, but shipwrecks of humanity, sloth and waste, wickedness and greed. I saw a dollar bill on the ground. I let it be.
Lead on, i'M In no shape to follow
The powder ended up everywhere. It didn't just blacken the mechanisms, but our hands, our hearts, our even souls. We were steadfast, for at least our souls had color, and our spirits stood for something.
Some people had the mechanics of everyday life down. They didn't need to think to operate thier toasters, thier phones, they didn't need to look at what they were doing. We somehow found ourselves the same way, but with much darker opeations, and sadder topics.
What I just saei d made no sense. But hoepfully you know what i ean
Everything she did was poison, everyone knew it, everyone knew her intent. We couldn't help but stand by her, her malice was, afterall, pure. Afterwards, she slept, and she will sleep, forever.
Sometimes you see light play across people's eyes, like thier really alive. Mostly they're just walking dead though, buying newspapers, talking to be noticed, whining because it's all they've been raised to do.
It's fantastically amusing to me, and I, and us, and you, and them, and everyone here, in the old home, in the sanctuary, how easy it is to fool people. They'll beleive in whatever they want to believe, and dismiss anything they don't want to believe in. They don't want to believe in us.
I wouldn't either.
Sometimes I just go down to the basement, the lower levels, the catacombs, hell, as it were, and walk around, following the blood glyphs on the cieling that Zex has left. Othertimes I try and kill myself. It never works. My body wants me here more than my mind does. Maybe if I break my mind, I can break my body.
Ahhh, if my mind hasn't broken by now, what could break it?
Loss, maybe, but I'm going to lose everything anyway.
Sometimes I drive late at night with one of my newtype of the society and start to disregard everything. Like violence, it's brother, power has a wicked joy to it that pulls you under. I drive too fast and hope my passenger hates me. Sometimes I just drive untill th car dies and sit wherever it stops for hours, talking, about nothing, about everything. I ****ing hate my life.
I once killed a kitten, on accident, backing out of someone's driveway. It made me sadder than most of the people I kill.
I wonder if I'll ever get to go fishing. I seem to be always busy busy busy, Reloading, sewing myself up, shoving my friends bones back into alignment, waiting out the bright day until work starts again. I enjoy the day. I will go fishing soon, so soon, but for now, I have work to do, and it's getting dark.
People are too relient on the firearm as a promary weapon. It is ideal in many cases, but all of them eventually can be expended, and sometimes, they are so in the middle of something important.
The forest of blades below is fine indeed. Even disregarding the eternals and the timeless, and even the forbidden.
No firearm leves a three foot long wound channel to the bone.
Still, most things die with a few cartridges.
Reload, reload, reload, draw the blade.
It's not even about survival anymore. It's a duty.
One time, after a hard night, I went to a bakery very early in the morning. I ate donuts, and I drank coffee. I sat and watched the sun rise, and entered the part of the day that's easy to survive in.
Suddenly, one of the hunters walked in, going about her young life. She looked normal, beautiful, disheveveled, but beautiful. She waved. She smiled. She's adapting well. She's nowhere near as stained in hand as I am, but she's getting there. Maybe she can walk a finer line that I have.
My line is a thousand miles wide and goes on forever. All in blood and glittering brass.
Before I left, I used the bathroom. I pissed blood. I think I threw up too. I didn't wake up for a few hours. The ambulance tried to take me away. I'm sorry people had to see me like that. I limped off to the car.
It's going to be days before I'm all grown back together.
I was reading the book today. It wasn't being helpful. All I could get were wiring diagrams.
I broke down out of boredom, as I am still healing from the time with the bakery, and wired one of the schematics up.
There were two loose wires. I took one in each hand and kicked the switch. Nothing much happened. I think it's supposed to make toast.
Separate names with a comma.