Your CS Pet Pairs? (NEW THREAD)

[.a m a r y l l i s.]

Sanctus espiritus
redeem us from our solemn h.o.u.r
Sanctus espiritus
[i n s a n i t y] is all around us

The boy was no longer sure what was happening. He remembered the scream of the siren, the pounding of thousands of fleeing feet. And over it all the whistle of death, dropping from the sky like the wrath of an angry god. Now he stood, not alone, but surrounded by hundreds of others. It was as if they had found the last pocket of peace, that last bubble of protection.
His eyes roved upwards, caught and held by the light that filtered in still through the single uncovered window. The stained-glass cast a riot of colors on the ground, flickering across the disbelieving figures gathered below. Cries of fear echoed, from those his own age, as well as those far older. Whispers of why, of anger and disbelief, snaked their way through, spreading like a disease.
The boy did not stir, eyes locked on the face of a gentle angel, standing guard against the dangers of the sky. A shadow passed over the sun, darkening the angel's face as the light faded. The boy's breath caught-a cloud, perhaps. Or perhaps...
The roaring drone echoed through the crowded sanctuary, stopping all conversation. For one moment the people held on to the slimmest hope that perhaps this last shelter would not be stolen from them. The shadow passed on, and as one the crowd sighed in relief.
The whistle was so quiet.
Some instinct warned them, sent the crowd dashing for the doors in their haste to escape this horrid fate. The boy remained where he stood, eyes glued to the gentle face so high above him. The light dimmed as the sun was blocked from the colored glass. A single tear rolled down the child's face as he watched the glass grow darker and darker still. With a resounding crash the window broke, sending pieces of colored glass down onto those below, followed by the one thing they could not escape. And yet as their death hurtled towards them, the boy caught sight of one piece of glass, still within it's frame. Closing his eyes, the boy's lips moved in a silent plea as those around him gripped one another and howled in grief. But no angel could save them now.

Certainly not one made of glass.

Sanctus espiritus
is this what we [d e s e r v e], can we break free...
from chains of never-ending a.g.o.n.y?

[Aviatrix]

Sanctus espiritus
redeem us from our solemn h.o.u.r
Sanctus espiritus
[i n s a n i t y] is all around us

The boy was no longer sure what was happening. He remembered the scream of the siren, the pounding of thousands of fleeing feet. And over it all the whistle of death, dropping from the sky like the wrath of an angry god. Now he stood, not alone, but surrounded by hundreds of others. It was as if they had found the last pocket of peace, that last bubble of protection.
His eyes roved upwards, caught and held by the light that filtered in still through the single uncovered window. The stained-glass cast a riot of colors on the ground, flickering across the disbelieving figures gathered below. Cries of fear echoed, from those his own age, as well as those far older. Whispers of why, of anger and disbelief, snaked their way through, spreading like a disease.
The boy did not stir, eyes locked on the face of a gentle angel, standing guard against the dangers of the sky. A shadow passed over the sun, darkening the angel's face as the light faded. The boy's breath caught-a cloud, perhaps. Or perhaps...
The roaring drone echoed through the crowded sanctuary, stopping all conversation. For one moment the people held on to the slimmest hope that perhaps this last shelter would not be stolen from them. The shadow passed on, and as one the crowd sighed in relief.
The whistle was so quiet.
Some instinct warned them, sent the crowd dashing for the doors in their haste to escape this horrid fate. The boy remained where he stood, eyes glued to the gentle face so high above him. The light dimmed as the sun was blocked from the colored glass. A single tear rolled down the child's face as he watched the glass grow darker and darker still. With a resounding crash the window broke, sending pieces of colored glass down onto those below, followed by the one thing they could not escape. And yet as their death hurtled towards them, the boy caught sight of one piece of glass, still within it's frame. Closing his eyes, the boy's lips moved in a silent plea as those around him gripped one another and howled in grief. But no angel could save them now.

Certainly not one made of glass.

Sanctus espiritus
is this what we [d e s e r v e], can we break free...
from chains of never-ending a.g.o.n.y?

Wow, amazing! This is one of the best stories I've read! It's beautiful!

[TigressJaguiar]

The artist -- The work of art
Real names; Eskimo -- Serenity
Story will be made once some inspiration catches my eye. X3

This one seems good

[mawsoleum]

xx the moon | the sun xx

Story?
C:

Listen to this as you read.
xx | xx

The moon rose steadily in the sky, as to take its place for the night. As it moved upwards, it used a strong pitch dark cloak to push the sun down. She didn't speak a word of protest, but took her glorious cape of gold down, her eyes filled with sadness.

The moon raged over the sky, calling out its dark creatures from the land below. They grew from the earth to haunt anyone foolish enough to travel in the dark. A shadowy feline darted from behind a tree, as to capture and kill a small rabbit. It caught the poor victim by the neck, dragging it away into the darkness from whence it came. A silhouetted wolf howled an eerie call from a mountain peak, warning others of it's presence. Deer's heads and ears shot straight up as a black ghost of a bear charged them, hitting them with his mighty dark paws.

The sun hid in the lightest corner possible, hiding from her fears. She shivered to herself, fearing what the moon brought upon her once peaceful land.

A sudden shadow of a tiger pounced above the area she was taking refuge in, only missing the sight of her by a small amount. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Her bright eyes dimmed as she was reminded of her curse once more, the curse of silence. She could not protest against the mighty moon, nor speak against his creatures. She was helpless until her cloak rose into the sky once more.

As the night grew darker and deeper, the moon claimed even more of her creature's lives with his own beasts. She wanted oh so badly to yell to him to stop, but the ropes the tied her mouth would not tolerate such an action. The sun remained hidden for the entirety of the night, as always. Her tears had only just started shedding as her reign was called up once more.

She rose to the sky, the moon mocking her with his voice as she sadly rose. Her eyes welled with fear and loss, wishing so badly for him to remove the plague he had set upon her. As he settled down to the ground, the sun illuminated herself the best she could. Her creatures moved out of their hiding slowly, checking every direction before putting another foot to the ground. They emerged finally, enjoying the sparse happiness while they could.

And in the sky, the sun mourned over them, creating a light rain.
She knew the cycle would continue for as long as her curse was on her.
And she knew that eventually, she would not be just barely missed by a shadow creature.
Eventually, like her own creatures, the black night of death would be upon her.

_______

Again, sorry for how odd my writing style is. Cx

xx morning | evening xx


The next generation, I suppose.
Story soon.

[wibeke]

Random pairing, tried to do something sweet and happy but somehow made it sad. 0.o
Pretty much just a mind-dump again.

---
Look at the stars
Look how they shine for y o u
And everything you do
Yeah, they were all yellow

---
She surrounded herself with color. Her house looked like something ripped out of a child's coloring book, with paint splatters on the walls and not even the furniture spared from what could only be described as a tornado of pigments. Canvases hung crookedly on the walls, the only objects in the room completely absent of color.
"It's more fun to imagine them, the pictures," she'd say. He never quite understood.

Yellow was her favorite though. "It the color of sunshine and stars. And sacrifice, too, I suppose," she'd giggle. "Isn't it wonderful? It's like the colors tell a story. I wonder what the walls are saying."
Neither did he understand this, and neither did he care for such a bright color, but he still laughed along. He loved her child like antics, how she saw stories in the simplest of things and her boundless energy.
Most of all, he loved her. More than anything else in the world.
And he missed her.
---
I came along
I wrote a song for you
And all the things you do
And it was called y e l l o w
---
Every day he'd visit her. He tell her all about the weather outside, [she loved to here him talk about the sun] and she'd tell him about the patterns of the paint chips on the ceiling and share her latest ideas. Sometimes, he'd even sing for her. Just little snatches of a song, played for her on the worn out guitar that she insisted that he'd play, despite never having learned how to properly do anything of the sort.
"Your voice is pretty," she'd tell him. "Soft and warm, like sunshine. My favorite color," she'd say quietly, closing her eyes and listening intently. He'd smile along, singing until she fell asleep again.

And when she did he'd jump into his car and drive off to the store, combing the isles for anything yellow that he thought she'd like. They ate a lot of bananas and Twinkies that year, he remembered. She didn't want the gifts, she said she felt bad that he'd done so much for her, but she was grateful. She only asked that he'd find some other colored things, too. She didn't want the others to feel left out.
Everyday he'd return with a small snack and another little trinket. Little stuffed animals surrounded her bed, with a balloon always floating about and a little bright bow in her hair.

Anything to brighten up that room, dulled and tired despite the bright colors coating the wall. Nothing could distract from the hospital bed in the middle of the room, or the little wires attached to her body.
"Three months," she said. "Three months are more than enough, so long as you're here."
But three months were never enough. There was never enough time.
He never wanted to lose her.
---
So then I took my turn
Oh, what a thing to have done
And it was all yellow
----
He stood silently in the field, among her friends and family that he had come to know so well in those short few months. They clasped their hands in prayer, remembered the bright little girl they all knew so well. The girl who never lost her spirit, no matter how hard the disease tried to destroy it. She was brave, braver than anyone he had ever known.
And suddenly he understood. He felt the yellow sunshine on his skin, feeling warm and safe, knowing that she was right there with him. He understood the blank canvases and the splattered walls. It was the color of safety and of warmth. His favorite color.
"The color of sacrifice," he whispered, a small smile coming to his tear-stained face.

He stepped forward to the casket, realizing that it too had small drips of paint on it's surface, and placed his rose on top of it. He'd never forget her, never forgive the world for taking her away so quickly, but he understood.
---
Your skin and bones
Turn into something b e a u t i f u l
You know, you know I l o v e you s o~

[nostalgiatech]

Random pairing, tried to do something sweet and happy but somehow made it sad. 0.o
Pretty much just a mind-dump again.

---
Look at the stars
Look how they shine for y o u
And everything you do
Yeah, they were all yellow

---
She surrounded herself with color. Her house looked like something ripped out of a child's coloring book, with paint splatters on the walls and not even the furniture spared from what could only be described as a tornado of pigments. Canvases hung crookedly on the walls, the only objects in the room completely absent of color.
"It's more fun to imagine them, the pictures," she'd say. He never quite understood.

Yellow was her favorite though. "It the color of sunshine and stars. And sacrifice, too, I suppose," she'd giggle. "Isn't it wonderful? It's like the colors tell a story. I wonder what the walls are saying."
Neither did he understand this, and neither did he care for such a bright color, but he still laughed along. He loved her child like antics, how she saw stories in the simplest of things and her boundless energy.
Most of all, he loved her. More than anything else in the world.
And he missed her.
---
I came along
I wrote a song for you
And all the things you do
And it was called y e l l o w
---
Every day he'd visit her. He tell her all about the weather outside, [she loved to here him talk about the sun] and she'd tell him about the patterns of the paint chips on the ceiling and share her latest ideas. Sometimes, he'd even sing for her. Just little snatches of a song, played for her on the worn out guitar that she insisted that he'd play, despite never having learned how to properly do anything of the sort.
"Your voice is pretty," she'd tell him. "Soft and warm, like sunshine. My favorite color," she'd say quietly, closing her eyes and listening intently. He'd smile along, singing until she fell asleep again.

And when she did he'd jump into his car and drive off to the store, combing the isles for anything yellow that he thought she'd like. They ate a lot of bananas and Twinkies that year, he remembered. She didn't want the gifts, she said she felt bad that he'd done so much for her, but she was grateful. She only asked that he'd find some other colored things, too. She didn't want the others to feel left out.
Everyday he'd return with a small snack and another little trinket. Little stuffed animals surrounded her bed, with a balloon always floating about and a little bright bow in her hair.

Anything to brighten up that room, dulled and tired despite the bright colors coating the wall. Nothing could distract from the hospital bed in the middle of the room, or the little wires attached to her body.
"Three months," she said. "Three months are more than enough, so long as you're here."
But three months were never enough. There was never enough time.
He never wanted to lose her.
---
So then I took my turn
Oh, what a thing to have done
And it was all yellow
----
He stood silently in the field, among her friends and family that he had come to know so well in those short few months. They clasped their hands in prayer, remembered the bright little girl they all knew so well. The girl who never lost her spirit, no matter how hard the disease tried to destroy it. She was brave, braver than anyone he had ever known.
And suddenly he understood. He felt the yellow sunshine on his skin, feeling warm and safe, knowing that she was right there with him. He understood the blank canvases and the splattered walls. It was the color of safety and of warmth. His favorite color.
"The color of sacrifice," he whispered, a small smile coming to his tear-stained face.

He stepped forward to the casket, realizing that it too had small drips of paint on it's surface, and placed his rose on top of it. He'd never forget her, never forgive the world for taking her away so quickly, but he understood.
---
Your skin and bones
Turn into something b e a u t i f u l
You know, you know I l o v e you s o~

That was so beautiful. I nearly cried.....

[Ineedatribal]

The artist -- The work of art
Real names; Eskimo -- Serenity
Story will be made once some inspiration catches my eye. X3

This one seems good

D'aww, thanks! :3

[. Delirium .]

How can I [mend]
a bleeding heart
When all I do is draw blood?
.......
I just tuned out the terrified screams of young children as their parents and older siblings were being brutally slayed by our army. I closed my eyes to shy away from all the blood. The streets, windows, everything. Blood. Blood. Blood everywhere. Bodies of men, women, and even...children lay strewn about like discarded rag dolls. The faces of those upturned were blank yet filled with the horror of their last seconds. One glance and you could see everything that had happened to them. Someone yelled to me, and I knew I had to do my duty. I ran, my bronze armor clinking with every stride, to the door nearest me, untouched by the hell that had turned itself loose upon this small little village.

I broke the door down without a moment's hesitation, my sword out in front of me. Nothing. Not a person, nor a sound tingled my senses. I walked across the wood floor, scratching it with my claws as I went. The fur on the back of my neck grew cold and stood up as I slowly started up the stairs. There were other younger than me, who had the bravery of out leader himself. I, being seventeen, had the bravery of a mouse. Not good when you're part of an army who give their lives to destroying entire populations. My mother described it as genocide. My heart would skip a beat every time the stairs would creak. The stairs opened up into a dingy old attic, where I could just barely make out the silhouettes of a child and two adults huddled in the shadows. I bit back my guilty conscience and walked towards them, sword pointed at a horizontal. One adult, the smaller, probably female, ran with the child across the room while the male came at me with a blunt object. He managed to clip me in the side, but I shanked him in the stomach, and wiped my sword of his blood as he fell to the ground, gagging on the blood rising in his throat. I could hear the female and child, female as well, scream. I went for the other adult, not wanting to kill the child. She was slow, and didn't put up a very good fight. When I looked up, the child was gone.

Suddenly, I had lurched forward and my helmet met the cold floor. I immediately pulled myself up, and was met with the child. Only, she wasn't a child, but a young woman, roughly my age, possibly younger. Her face was tear streaked and she came at me again with a large knife. I easily caught her paw in mine, and in a swift flick of the wrist, it was on the floor. She slithered out of my grasp and reached behind her back for what I had found to be a bow and an arrow from her mahogany quiver. Fear got the best of me before I had even thought to attack. She pulled her arm back, and released, a faint whistle pierced my ears as it sailed through the air caught me in my exposed torso. I fell onto one knee, and she yanked my helmet off. I met her soft golden eyes as she choked out her words. "I want to see the same fear I seen in my parents' eyes."

I dropped my eyes from her gaze and looked at the ground, not wanting to see my end. But a slight shimmer of metal caught my eye as I remembered the sword in my paw. Gripping it tightly, I forced myself up and hit her with the grip end of the sword, knocking her down the flight of stairs. Turning my head away as she hit the wall with a sickening crunch, I pulled the arrow out.

(Eh, not my best but, needed to get it out. Continue?)

[nostalgiatech]

The Blind and the Terrible


Pet's name: Mini
Adopt virtual pets at Chicken Smoothie!

Pet's name: Villian
Adopt virtual pets at Chicken Smoothie!

I was almost glad she couldn't see the horrible villain within me.

[. Delirium .]

The Blind and the Terrible


Pet's name: Mini
Adopt virtual pets at Chicken Smoothie!

Pet's name: Villian
Adopt virtual pets at Chicken Smoothie!

I was almost glad she couldn't see the horrible villain within me.

Oooh story please!