Post by Arrow on Aug 12, 2017 20:13:56 GMT -8
my wings shall never melt beneath the sun
Golden grace glides over brilliant blades bringing forth spinning sparks from their ethereal ends. Emptiness endless indulges upon the residence it has taken within my eyes. Footsteps fall screams splitting through a somber night lit theater. Hands harshly hammer against hinges unable to be opened while within the wealth of the wicked shadows I sneak forward. Possession pulls me from my seclusion in the shade a smile flaunting falsities upon my approach. Fear forces itself from her feeding my interior ferocity, a knife glittering gold carved creatively as one of my wing's feathers flies against the grate of metal beside her. "The hope that hovers within the eyes of our pets whom we chose to let out to play is truly terrific. Too bad you're never leaving here alive." The spotlight fades from focus a crushing call creates the end of her existence.
To the world the Medea's are simply a family of stunning stars and owners of District One's most dynamic theater. People flock from miles to make it to our productions, all such excitement expels any notice of our actual actions. Person after person is taken into our secret cellar where they remain for us to torture, to play with as our puppets. I myself prefer something that allows my dark and creative side of shocking serious intellect, allowing our pets to run for a while stars of their own before torture or slaughter. Hell, its the only true source of enjoyment I have remaining within my life. I even created a costume christened with knives to match the legend of my naming. Anything for a taste of sweet success in slaughter.
To the outside world from which our notions remain unknown I appear as just another career. Brilliant blonde haired, dull careless green eyes, the eyes of a killer. Some may even see me as small considering I am 5'7 and only 130 lbs, still my mind makes up for what my physique can't. All my family's pets know this very well. I even wear a falsity upon my face, spectacles not needed for my vision in the slightest. All for the perfect actor to present himself as someone he is not.
seventeen years old
district one
male
To the world the Medea's are simply a family of stunning stars and owners of District One's most dynamic theater. People flock from miles to make it to our productions, all such excitement expels any notice of our actual actions. Person after person is taken into our secret cellar where they remain for us to torture, to play with as our puppets. I myself prefer something that allows my dark and creative side of shocking serious intellect, allowing our pets to run for a while stars of their own before torture or slaughter. Hell, its the only true source of enjoyment I have remaining within my life. I even created a costume christened with knives to match the legend of my naming. Anything for a taste of sweet success in slaughter.
To the outside world from which our notions remain unknown I appear as just another career. Brilliant blonde haired, dull careless green eyes, the eyes of a killer. Some may even see me as small considering I am 5'7 and only 130 lbs, still my mind makes up for what my physique can't. All my family's pets know this very well. I even wear a falsity upon my face, spectacles not needed for my vision in the slightest. All for the perfect actor to present himself as someone he is not.
seventeen years old
district one
male
