Post by Admin on Feb 28, 2022 22:35:59 GMT -6
She seemed so peaceful just lying there but it was the unsettling cold feeling coming off of her that would rouse Mya from her deep slumber. Her panicked voice, and then screams of horror would not rouse her for the thing one might call her soul had long since departed. She called for her children, who were equally made distraught. Hearts where deeply wounded and there was such a sadness as the realization that someone so important in their lives had been taken from them. The very world itself shook from their combined grief. No amount of magic, science or string pulling would bring her back. Her family and friends tried so very desperately to bring her back. They scoured the depths of hell, traveled through timeless gates and slipped into every known dimension that they could. They froze her body to stop its decay and did everything they could to discover why it was she was taken from them.
Life had simply run its course for her. How long had she simply been running on fumes? And yet a more perfect picture could not have been painted for someone who was so cherished, so beloved and feared by so many. She had simply just fallen asleep one night, tangled up in the sheets and arms of her dearest with the peace knowing her children were happy in that moment and she had long enjoyed being a grandmother to their offspring. The sunlight of the early morning was peering through the branches of the large, hollowed redwood that they had come to call home. She left behind such a marvelous tale of debauchery, endless torture, never ending love and a warmth that simply could not be matched by any other. In her last few years, she had finally gotten the peace she had always wanted in her thousand's years of life. She got to see all her children grow up and have little ones of their own.
She would never know the hole she left in all of their lives and how it would spark the very thing she had always hoped to prevent. She would be the very thing that tore her family apart and would cast her family into a darkness that she could never have imagined for them, but this was the end of her story. Time would still move forward, and events would still occur. The stories of others would continue on as she soon simply became just a chapter in their lives for this was the end of the story that was Yukoto Necrosis Cornellious Deimos.
In a place long forgotten by time, nestled in-between dreams and reality there stood a single room. To whom this room belonged to, no one would know for this was a place that no one knew about. The warmth and comfort in this room was simply unmatched by any other thing in known creation. This was a place of imagination and creation. Inside were countless volumes of stories untold to forever remain untold and written stories tucked away for safe keeping so their stories would forever remain timeless.
Sitting on a place of honor above the fireplace filled with blue flames, Sat a series of leather-bound books. Each more precious and crafted with more care then the last. A specific number of volumes had already been predestined and the very last words in the very last book, perfectly filled the very last page. There was simply not a single word that could be written for a story that was already complete. There was no more room on the pages and the red ink of this one's story, had run out with the last words. The magical quill who's nib never dulled and inkwell never ran dry, finally laid itself to rest as the book it had been so diligently writing in closed itself for the last time. Someone picked up that very book that had been writing itself from off its resting place on the pedestal and placed it at the end of the series.
How long this figure stood there admiring one's work and looking over the words written on its pages, one could not say. It read of a woman who was dealt a bad hand from the very start of her life and every step of the way, the family she so desperately wanted was taken away from her. She had to work with what she had and fight for everything in her life. She had to fight for survival, she had to fight for love, she had to fight for the lives of her children and her grandchildren. She had to fight for her friends, for her lovers. The weight of the world had been placed on her shoulders and she did everything she could to carry that weight. She took so much onto her plate and always poured from her cup into others even if it meant her own cup would never be full.
This figure grabbed the very first book of the series and placed it on the pedestal. Tenderly they opened the book and flipped to the very first pages. Written upon its first pages was how the being simply known as yuko had been conceived. It was not an act of love and care, but an intimate act that had long been contorted and twisted by the ravages of hell and its spawn. Her mother had been taken and unspeakable things had been done to her, and ultimately it would be bringing yuko into this world that would steal her mother's life. She had given everything so that this little bud of potential could do something more with her life then she had. A sacrifice yuko herself would later do to save her own child.
"Perhaps it is time... We make a few changes to the story." And with that, the figure picked up the quill as a golden reddish color ink began to flow from it's nib. A single drop hit the pages of the book, was absorbed by it and all of the pages were simply wiped clean. The tomes sitting on the mantle simply vanished as the figure began to write Once upon a time..
Life had simply run its course for her. How long had she simply been running on fumes? And yet a more perfect picture could not have been painted for someone who was so cherished, so beloved and feared by so many. She had simply just fallen asleep one night, tangled up in the sheets and arms of her dearest with the peace knowing her children were happy in that moment and she had long enjoyed being a grandmother to their offspring. The sunlight of the early morning was peering through the branches of the large, hollowed redwood that they had come to call home. She left behind such a marvelous tale of debauchery, endless torture, never ending love and a warmth that simply could not be matched by any other. In her last few years, she had finally gotten the peace she had always wanted in her thousand's years of life. She got to see all her children grow up and have little ones of their own.
She would never know the hole she left in all of their lives and how it would spark the very thing she had always hoped to prevent. She would be the very thing that tore her family apart and would cast her family into a darkness that she could never have imagined for them, but this was the end of her story. Time would still move forward, and events would still occur. The stories of others would continue on as she soon simply became just a chapter in their lives for this was the end of the story that was Yukoto Necrosis Cornellious Deimos.
In a place long forgotten by time, nestled in-between dreams and reality there stood a single room. To whom this room belonged to, no one would know for this was a place that no one knew about. The warmth and comfort in this room was simply unmatched by any other thing in known creation. This was a place of imagination and creation. Inside were countless volumes of stories untold to forever remain untold and written stories tucked away for safe keeping so their stories would forever remain timeless.
Sitting on a place of honor above the fireplace filled with blue flames, Sat a series of leather-bound books. Each more precious and crafted with more care then the last. A specific number of volumes had already been predestined and the very last words in the very last book, perfectly filled the very last page. There was simply not a single word that could be written for a story that was already complete. There was no more room on the pages and the red ink of this one's story, had run out with the last words. The magical quill who's nib never dulled and inkwell never ran dry, finally laid itself to rest as the book it had been so diligently writing in closed itself for the last time. Someone picked up that very book that had been writing itself from off its resting place on the pedestal and placed it at the end of the series.
How long this figure stood there admiring one's work and looking over the words written on its pages, one could not say. It read of a woman who was dealt a bad hand from the very start of her life and every step of the way, the family she so desperately wanted was taken away from her. She had to work with what she had and fight for everything in her life. She had to fight for survival, she had to fight for love, she had to fight for the lives of her children and her grandchildren. She had to fight for her friends, for her lovers. The weight of the world had been placed on her shoulders and she did everything she could to carry that weight. She took so much onto her plate and always poured from her cup into others even if it meant her own cup would never be full.
This figure grabbed the very first book of the series and placed it on the pedestal. Tenderly they opened the book and flipped to the very first pages. Written upon its first pages was how the being simply known as yuko had been conceived. It was not an act of love and care, but an intimate act that had long been contorted and twisted by the ravages of hell and its spawn. Her mother had been taken and unspeakable things had been done to her, and ultimately it would be bringing yuko into this world that would steal her mother's life. She had given everything so that this little bud of potential could do something more with her life then she had. A sacrifice yuko herself would later do to save her own child.
"Perhaps it is time... We make a few changes to the story." And with that, the figure picked up the quill as a golden reddish color ink began to flow from it's nib. A single drop hit the pages of the book, was absorbed by it and all of the pages were simply wiped clean. The tomes sitting on the mantle simply vanished as the figure began to write Once upon a time..