#elementaribus

Brother Bear Sentence Starter

A bite of her lower lip, her hues go soft - softer, that is, than they already are.

“Don’t fix me with that gaze, please. I didn’t know then what I do now. I didn’t mean to hurt you; I- I couldn’t have prevented it.”

He doesn't believe her for a second. He wants to, sure. But why should he? No amount of forgiveness could possibly lesson the blow. “You know what I think? I think you like making excuses for yourself.”

one of those muses had better not be warren bc holly might just jump ship and never come back again ಠ_ಠ

five hundred vacations later

         The void cradled him in the dark, overpowering his will of resurfacing to the conscious realm. He forced himself to move but his limbs left him dead and cold to the world. He called to his god and asked for guidance yet again. In the midst of the swirling mass of uncertainty, Warren drifted off to the unknown, wishing to wake up from the curse of his subconscious. He remembered the faery, Holly Laferre, who took advantage of him and imprisoned him in his moments of unbalance.

         His eyes fluttered open, and at the first sign of movement, Warren lashed out with every once of his strength wanting to get back to the faery.

         But it was a different faery who presented himself. A boy, younger than Holly. He was lean and tall but he was fit, Warren could see that through the aura he gave off. He radiated power too, even greater that the female counterpart. How was that possible? Levi and the rest of his comrades should have wiped him off.

         Have they fallen victim to the ancient magic of the faeries too?

         Warren shut his eyes, pinpointing their location, sensing their faint auras. There they were, lifeforms in form of hollow lights wandering inside his head; in the north and sound and two on the east. He was about to speak to them when the lights dimmed and their auras gone. It was only for a flicker of a moment and in the next second, the lights presented themselves to him once again. However as he tried to grasp them, they fled out of his reach. Frustrated, Warren glared to the boy faery, wondering whether their ancient magic diminished his powers as well. 

        He was sat on a chair, thick green vines of magic binding his upper torso and arms and legs, making him incapable of even moving. His strength did him no good; Warren tried to force his way out just like he did when things did not go his way, but he was not able to budge an inch. He willed the warm gold of his eyes to a dark shade of red for the flesh of burning acid but like the help of his god, Baphomet, it did not come too. In his five hundred years of loyalty and service, never was he captured nor incapacitated by the enemies. Legions of supernaturals had fallen to his mercy, the might of the Champion, only to serve Baphomet in their afterlife.

        Did the success of his battles hold the true weight of his victory, not the dissemination of the good news-- that the one true God of all that was, that is and that will be, the God of Creation and Destruction, will be rising again to bring back all that was lost and forgotten? Being the Harbinger of Justice, the one true Champion, one who passed judgment to every supernatural and his god known as their life and their death, the alpha and the omega-- did his one loss in the hands of the faeries meant the failure of their mission as well, or will Baphomet dispose him and find another capable champion to retake his place?

        Even with the loss of most of his abilities, Warren remained god-like. In his most natural state, power still coursed in his veins, the blessed golden liquid that flowed through rivers of black, blue and red, each giving him life in the absence of blood. Without communication from his comrades, Warren beheld a sense of isolation, but perhaps it was for the best. He could think clearly, without the need of thinking the consequences his decisions would bring others. He looked around with his golden eyes, heard and felt past through the barriers, the silent hum of Athens above and the voices of the lesser beings, intent on worshipping their false gods.

        He would be able to annihilate the boy faery, he thought, once he breaks free from their hold. Baphomet would grant him the scorching red of the spectrum of light, the wrath, his wrath, once again, and put an end to all the farce.