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I caught whispers around me in the darkness, complaints, curses. The soldiers blame me for their bad luck, believing as most people do that the Assassin class held strange magics and affected fate, incorrect. The rumour served us well. Though loud to my ears, I ignored them and continued to watch the wall. It was not yet dawn and the sky was beginning to lose her stars. The clouds painted a dusky pink, moved only slowly by a gentle breeze. This summer would be a warm one.
I stood, having finished the counting in my head. It was time. The whispers silenced, and I made my way toward the target building.
The battalion behind me were given orders to wait a bare quarter of an hour as I moved through the halls and passageways removing obstacles. As much as they complained, the army would be no where without us.
The doors were wide behind me, the floor littered with weapons and corpses. In some strange way I saw none of it. In a placid calm I moved, always forwards. I had heard some of the ma
This is Not My World
By now I should be lost in my personal world of noise. But the music is gone; I am exposed to the beyond. At times it is eerily quiet, my own footsteps careful, people distant enough for their convocations to be little more than a pleasant murmur, a lull in the traffic, even my thoughts mellow and drift. Yet just as I begin to realise the level of sound, the delicateness and subtlety of my surroundings, a piercing note jabs into my audio perception. Things creep up on me from behind, imposing laughter becomes anything but funny, anger and hate are vocalised and released. Even the buildings assault me. Now I hear, not only feel the rumbling, through the ears as through my feet. In my fearful skittish animal state, shrill noises stab into my consciousness that was once unaffected, I flinch away from such ordinary things. Things I would have otherwise have ignored, though their noise bringing them somehow closer than is comfortable. I wish again I would not know of their friends and famil
It is not yet dark, the feeling surrounds and drifts within the halls, to be wrapped up in the near silence. It is the very beginning of twilight. Mottled greens, browns. The depths of the shadows promise hidden nooks and holes, some that hold irresistible treasures. Soft earth, soft light, it filters from above, gently touching. Even the smells are soft; earthy and damp. The great pillars hold up the sky, unshakeable, immortal. The sky; its dark, yet the light sifts down. The gentle breeze stirs the scents and the leaves, it dances up, around, carrying small tokens of life, caressing everything it touches ground and sky alike. They flutter and whisper in the air, a constant song within the muted cathedral from rafters of bark and bough. Floating further the clusters of low lying greenery that blanket the floor begin to disperse. The roots lie lower beneath the earth, the ceiling thins and becomes brighter. The comfort fades as the fingers of twilight slip off and retreat. Sharper ligh
Brushing the rain from her hair with her fingertips, Karrie Winters tutted at how it made her usually voluminous hair lie flat. She gazed around, at the source, or sources of the smell. Books, hundreds upon hundreds of books. How the tiny little shop front, indented into the brickwork, concealed, protected, this many books surely defied the laws of physics.
The torrential downpour outside was barely heard inside the shop. The little half sunken door and grimy windows where all the shelter provided at this late hour on such a night. As the rain began to drive with the wind into the definitely inadequate shelter, Karrie had tried the door, and to her surprise, it yielded.
Under the building was a treasure trove, for some. But then, some put a priceless value on a single shiny piece of metal, to others, these dusty tombs where beyond value. It all depended on the moment, the object in question and the person, upon whether they placed their heart in shiny metal, a material value, or in kno
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More