A/N: HIYEE!!! Remind me never to take Tampico Juice and Soybean Chocolate
Milk together, at 12:19 in the morning. It makes me hyper. Plus leaving me
"Jak and Daxter" at my disposal. Muwahaha. (*makes peace sign* I'm a video
game freak.) Oh, to the point . . . lookie, mommy, there goes a flying
cow, cuddling a chocolate soybean. Not the point, actually. Enough of my
mumbling about soybeans, on with the show. Tally-ho!!! Enjoy the story.
Chapter One - Euthoria
Tales were told beneath the scarce light of the moon by a legend that fortold the redemption of time's greatest conqueror.
At an era in which bloodshed was a familty to your own, and "safety" was a forbidden, foreign curse, Hitokiri Battousai was a man who thrived on power and bloodshed, a thriving king on the verge of a vast empire. On the eve of a solo night, amongst the blaring flames of Kanryuu's castle, was the voice of a tyrant's nightingale, pleading for her phantom freedom. Instead, she received eternity bound to the legendary manslayer, as his single salvation from insanity's grasp.
"Bombay sapphires on his wrist . . . Drinking blood of hit and miss . . . Take them, tyrants, hear their pleads . . . of mundane thoughts and logic weeds."
Such a wry song coming from the flames of what has been "a palace once of wealth and greed," like the virgin drowning in the sharks of a teahouse, it stood erect, from the crackle and flame, from the sight in which the Battousai took pleasure in conceiving. Yet, there it rang like a tintabulation of an afternoon abbey bell, in the flames of Kanryuu's "grand" manor, or the petty bonfire it stood as it was now. Here a man, corrupted and rivaled, scorched on his journey to hell, where the demon who sent him was to meet at the time of his death.
Battousai. A man to be feared by all, in all countries subsided to their knees, yet they met their deaths, with their farewell adieu being the bloodshot ambers of this beast. He was king to a new empire, succeeding in which his illegimate father had no point in conquering. The world.
His life's purpose was the bring all of the world to the filthy home of the dirt, to worship, obey, and be slaughtered if any rebelled against his reign. He was now an emperor to a new era, where children would be burnt to ashes if parents were careless vigilantes with romantic, unrealistic ideals of the future where their descendants knew not the stench of your opponent's blood, but the fragrance of fragility in peace. The idea disgusted him to no end.
There, before him, stood aflame the dire consequence of doggedness. Death. Kanryuu, foolish man.
Battousai had not prepared to be drawn to this siren's song like a moth upon a flame. However, curiousity and intrigue overpowered this manslayer, overpowered his perfected self-control. What else was he to have done than follow its melodius captivation?
With his death-defying speed that claimed Battousai as immortal, he entered the flame and its building, reckless of the pleas from his soldiers. He was deaf to all sound, except that voice . . . a key that unlocked the desires of his own stoical heart, repressed from a decade's silence.
Then before him, amongst the birdcages hung from god-like heights, as if displayed by giants themselves, was the unconscious figure of a maiden in her dollhouse cage. A bird captive in its jail.
Taking the hilt of his sword, swung and succeeded in tearing the lock in which kept this nightingale in her prison, his eyes feasting on the beauty of this one such creature. Not to be swayed by any mortal beauty, by any woman, before him was the epitomy, the end of his streak in which he remained indifferent to a woman's "feelings," if such existed.
Her skin, an ivory seal upon those ample curves that hung every man's desire. Upon the clear vision of her back was two intricate mercury wings, such a sign that which possession laid role. It was a trademark of Kanryuu. His self-control was once again tested to his limits. Captived, he could not merely walk away from this treasure, even if it meant the lives of his men, of his own. Reality assaulted him with brutal force. With such romantic thoughts, how was the Hitokiri Battousai to take an empire and set power amongst every fiber of his being. How, if one has a weakness?
"Lustful expectations (L.E. fans. You know what I'm taling about). Damn it, bitch. Just lust." Oblivious to his actions, fingers that has known blood as its companion pierced through the silks of her skin that lay vulnerable on the curveous neck that belonged to only women. Bloodlust, the manslayer injures the wound even to the farthest extent, sinking his canine teeth (Sounds like Inu-Yasha.), lapping the red liquid as if a fountain of youth.
To him, it was a savory delight. To him, a beast ... part wolf demon, such a delicacy should stay forbidden. And it was all his, his to abuse, his to insue tender care, his to savor. His alone.
Processors before him took their mates with brutal force, with such vitality in the masculine plane. Battousai took an intake of her scent, clearly sensing the natural arousal from her body's responses. In which, he had the urges, one of a demon's strength, to engorge himself in her warmth, until he was satisfied.
Amongst, all the flames of hell incarnated?
Hard and obstinate, Battousai gave the gods his cry of irritance that shattered euthoria's walls and echoed past heaven into the unreturning void. Then the ashed walls of Kanryuu's empire fell that night the legendary manslayer captured his redemption: the tyrant's nightingale.
Yet all the gods could hear was the constant mantra of the enraged individual, of one that would surpass history with his wrath.
"Mine. She is all mine."
Chapter One - Euthoria
Tales were told beneath the scarce light of the moon by a legend that fortold the redemption of time's greatest conqueror.
At an era in which bloodshed was a familty to your own, and "safety" was a forbidden, foreign curse, Hitokiri Battousai was a man who thrived on power and bloodshed, a thriving king on the verge of a vast empire. On the eve of a solo night, amongst the blaring flames of Kanryuu's castle, was the voice of a tyrant's nightingale, pleading for her phantom freedom. Instead, she received eternity bound to the legendary manslayer, as his single salvation from insanity's grasp.
"Bombay sapphires on his wrist . . . Drinking blood of hit and miss . . . Take them, tyrants, hear their pleads . . . of mundane thoughts and logic weeds."
Such a wry song coming from the flames of what has been "a palace once of wealth and greed," like the virgin drowning in the sharks of a teahouse, it stood erect, from the crackle and flame, from the sight in which the Battousai took pleasure in conceiving. Yet, there it rang like a tintabulation of an afternoon abbey bell, in the flames of Kanryuu's "grand" manor, or the petty bonfire it stood as it was now. Here a man, corrupted and rivaled, scorched on his journey to hell, where the demon who sent him was to meet at the time of his death.
Battousai. A man to be feared by all, in all countries subsided to their knees, yet they met their deaths, with their farewell adieu being the bloodshot ambers of this beast. He was king to a new empire, succeeding in which his illegimate father had no point in conquering. The world.
His life's purpose was the bring all of the world to the filthy home of the dirt, to worship, obey, and be slaughtered if any rebelled against his reign. He was now an emperor to a new era, where children would be burnt to ashes if parents were careless vigilantes with romantic, unrealistic ideals of the future where their descendants knew not the stench of your opponent's blood, but the fragrance of fragility in peace. The idea disgusted him to no end.
There, before him, stood aflame the dire consequence of doggedness. Death. Kanryuu, foolish man.
Battousai had not prepared to be drawn to this siren's song like a moth upon a flame. However, curiousity and intrigue overpowered this manslayer, overpowered his perfected self-control. What else was he to have done than follow its melodius captivation?
With his death-defying speed that claimed Battousai as immortal, he entered the flame and its building, reckless of the pleas from his soldiers. He was deaf to all sound, except that voice . . . a key that unlocked the desires of his own stoical heart, repressed from a decade's silence.
Then before him, amongst the birdcages hung from god-like heights, as if displayed by giants themselves, was the unconscious figure of a maiden in her dollhouse cage. A bird captive in its jail.
Taking the hilt of his sword, swung and succeeded in tearing the lock in which kept this nightingale in her prison, his eyes feasting on the beauty of this one such creature. Not to be swayed by any mortal beauty, by any woman, before him was the epitomy, the end of his streak in which he remained indifferent to a woman's "feelings," if such existed.
Her skin, an ivory seal upon those ample curves that hung every man's desire. Upon the clear vision of her back was two intricate mercury wings, such a sign that which possession laid role. It was a trademark of Kanryuu. His self-control was once again tested to his limits. Captived, he could not merely walk away from this treasure, even if it meant the lives of his men, of his own. Reality assaulted him with brutal force. With such romantic thoughts, how was the Hitokiri Battousai to take an empire and set power amongst every fiber of his being. How, if one has a weakness?
"Lustful expectations (L.E. fans. You know what I'm taling about). Damn it, bitch. Just lust." Oblivious to his actions, fingers that has known blood as its companion pierced through the silks of her skin that lay vulnerable on the curveous neck that belonged to only women. Bloodlust, the manslayer injures the wound even to the farthest extent, sinking his canine teeth (Sounds like Inu-Yasha.), lapping the red liquid as if a fountain of youth.
To him, it was a savory delight. To him, a beast ... part wolf demon, such a delicacy should stay forbidden. And it was all his, his to abuse, his to insue tender care, his to savor. His alone.
Processors before him took their mates with brutal force, with such vitality in the masculine plane. Battousai took an intake of her scent, clearly sensing the natural arousal from her body's responses. In which, he had the urges, one of a demon's strength, to engorge himself in her warmth, until he was satisfied.
Amongst, all the flames of hell incarnated?
Hard and obstinate, Battousai gave the gods his cry of irritance that shattered euthoria's walls and echoed past heaven into the unreturning void. Then the ashed walls of Kanryuu's empire fell that night the legendary manslayer captured his redemption: the tyrant's nightingale.
Yet all the gods could hear was the constant mantra of the enraged individual, of one that would surpass history with his wrath.
"Mine. She is all mine."