#malfeasantking

“sᴜᴄʜ ᴛᴇʀʀɪʙʟᴇ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʀᴜᴇʟ ɢʀᴀᴄᴇ. ᴀ ᴘɪᴛʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴅᴇɪɢɴ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇɴᴅ ᴀ ᴋɴᴇᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ʟɪᴇᴜᴛᴇɴᴀɴᴛs, ✫ ᴠᴏɪᴅᴡᴀʟᴋᴇʀ ✫.”

  The entity is older than even the King and his people, than the Worms who in part ensued their lives would last into the infinite should they follow the laws. Despite the eons of time spent together doubts had begun to spring up in debate of just how useful the ancient race was against the Light. They have chased the Traveler and its minions across galaxies, destroyed all in their way, and yet the Light still persisted.

  One could only be disappointed for so long, and the Darkness knew an incredible patience. A deep rumbling violence engulfs Oryx, the last known power there ever was that could make even the worshiped God seem so insignificant. A writhing mass of rotten bones raises from the goo of slick rocks, gaping maw putrid with the stink of a battle fought and one so very long ago. The Dark is a shadow of the very same beast that Auryx once slew and now uses the remnant carcass as a Throne.

“here’s a good one-- where does the taken king keep his armies?”

ɴᴏᴛ sᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ꜰᴇᴇᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴡᴇʟʟ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀ sᴏʏᴍɪʟᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏʀɢᴀɴɪᴄ ᴡʜᴇᴀᴛɢʀᴀss.

poetry sentence starters | ACCEPTING

☼ - It’s one of these dreams again.  The creeping Darkness that invades his dreams, leaves him shivering and vulnerable.  No matter how much he prepares, Oryx still is able to invade his dreams.  Is still able to make him feel so afraid.

The deep, rumbling voice crawled up and down his circuits as if they were needles lightly prickling skin he no longer has, limbs freezing in place as he stood still in the chilling, damp chasm he somehow found himself in. More than chilling, freezing, he can feel the hidden clawed scars on his torso begin to sting and numb like frostbite.

The voice is teasing, he’s taunting him. For what reason, he cannot completely discern on tone and word alone, but it’s most definitely something that is malicious. Mind games, manipulation, gaslighting and doubt. He knew all of them oh so well and it’s something he hasn’t allowed himself to fall for easily.

The name of Cayde-6 sounded like an insult coming from the King’s words, he could feel himself sneer at the cold, gaping darkness that surrounded but a tiny electric candle that lit its own path. He would not allow the name of someone he ( LOVED? ) befriended be used in as much vain as the King was right now.

“... W-When--” His voice caught in his throat for a moment, the light in his mouth reflecting off the frigid floor and vapors that curled around his feet. He took a moment to recompose himself and start over, constricted green irises staring right at the void before him. He was terrified, anyone would be.

“When the day came that he left the Tower, well... There were some people who wanted to tag along with him.” A fair start, simple and to the point. Everyone knew that the trip to the Prison of Elders was going to be a dangerous one, and that Cayde was going to need all the help he could get.

“People kept asking him to let them come along and help out, me along with them, we all knew that trip was gonna be one hell of a firefight.” A small shake of his head, he could almost chuckle if he didn’t feel like he was being paralyzed. “But he kept telling everyone, ‘It’ll be fine!’ ‘None of you worry one bit.’ ‘I’ll only be gone for a day or two.’”

His head lowers, a weary but shaky sigh leaves him.

“That was my first mistake, letting him convince me or anyone else to stay back home. I wasn’t there with him, but I should have been. Maybe then, that slop of a sniper that calls himself the Rifleman wouldn’t have shot Sundance.” He speaks with venom in his voice now, a deep hatred for the Barons, and by extension the Darkness, boils in his throat once again as he lifts his head to the deep chasm’s shadows.