JULY 9, 2014.
Post by VAAEN VORENZ on Feb 28, 2014 0:13:48 GMT -5
{alena} {word 310} {midnight method}complacency shall burn,
and you will all be grateful.
Gray furs waltzed under the beauty of moonlight, a consistent rapping of black workforce boots etching pure, palpable wrath into the serene atmosphere. Light-blue orbs glinted curiosity and appreciation for the plenitude of the kingdom, lips malevolently sloping into an approving grin. He could only hope that the exquisite strife composing the lands weren’t a mere sheath for complacency, and it was his duty as the Aspect of Wrath to make sure the newest anomaly bearing the shared title wasn’t a woman carrying the torch of decadence.
Although the majority of the residents were sleep, the Espada’s titantic spiritual power was nothing near hidden; he walked with purposeful, heavy strides into the main attraction of the region. Puerta del Pecado, known to be humble abode of the woman of the hour. Evidently, one had to prove themselves in order to pass through the majestic gates—it was more evident that wrath didn’t give a molecule of a fuck. He left his towering imprint through every reinforced wall in his way, concrete debris dusting off his shoulders as he nonchalantly raced through. Through a short count of heartbeats, the Quatra Espada reached the entrance to the upper level; apparently the only level that had guards capable of not soiling themselves at the mere presence of a true spiritual monstrosity.
Drilling steps met their end, a dextral hand entering the small gap between man’s grin. He did not care if the Octava Espada was awake, nor did he care whether or not the guards attacked him on site by knowledge of his reputation. The only thing apparent was a loud, commanding whistle pulsing throughout the sound waves like an alarm. “Sirena!” He called out, his hands returning to his pockets while every honor guard on duty approached the intimidating intruder—while anticipation and excitement of the unknown bubbled inside his abdomen.
Although the majority of the residents were sleep, the Espada’s titantic spiritual power was nothing near hidden; he walked with purposeful, heavy strides into the main attraction of the region. Puerta del Pecado, known to be humble abode of the woman of the hour. Evidently, one had to prove themselves in order to pass through the majestic gates—it was more evident that wrath didn’t give a molecule of a fuck. He left his towering imprint through every reinforced wall in his way, concrete debris dusting off his shoulders as he nonchalantly raced through. Through a short count of heartbeats, the Quatra Espada reached the entrance to the upper level; apparently the only level that had guards capable of not soiling themselves at the mere presence of a true spiritual monstrosity.
Drilling steps met their end, a dextral hand entering the small gap between man’s grin. He did not care if the Octava Espada was awake, nor did he care whether or not the guards attacked him on site by knowledge of his reputation. The only thing apparent was a loud, commanding whistle pulsing throughout the sound waves like an alarm. “Sirena!” He called out, his hands returning to his pockets while every honor guard on duty approached the intimidating intruder—while anticipation and excitement of the unknown bubbled inside his abdomen.
MADE BY KIROUKO OF GANGNAM-STYLE
