Post by Remus J. Lupin on Jul 18, 2005 10:02:59 GMT -5
{{ Holy crap, that title's awful. xD Well, Jamesy and Sevvy ish to come here. =Waves big flag= }}
"I spread over you
the wings I tore away
And lie down with you.
Now, for the being who is so precious
Let me wear my cross.."
A shape was sat in the branches of the Birch tree by the Lake, soft honey-layered voice singing a rather haunting melody to himself. Long legs swayed backwards and forwards from the branch, tall body hunched forwards as narrowed metallic eyes stared out across the glittering Lake that reflected the waning crescent moon's light. Nirak Dragon was, once again, alone for the night. Not that he cared - he was used to be alone, talking to both himself and the voices in his head, and singing soft haunting melodies that chilled people to the bone whenever he sung to them. 'Pon the bridge of his nose, a pair of glasses sat :: something that no one ever got to see Nirak wear. He was, to say the least, embarassed at wearing glasses, thinking they made him look stupid. But really, they rather suited him. He sighed, closed his eyes, and ran a hand through his long-ish golden-honey locks, leaning backwards and nearly falling from the branch on which he perched. "Oh death where is thy sting ..." He murmured, shaking his head and sighing once again. Alone, once again.
"I spread over you
the wings I tore away
And lie down with you.
Now, for the being who is so precious
Let me wear my cross.."
A shape was sat in the branches of the Birch tree by the Lake, soft honey-layered voice singing a rather haunting melody to himself. Long legs swayed backwards and forwards from the branch, tall body hunched forwards as narrowed metallic eyes stared out across the glittering Lake that reflected the waning crescent moon's light. Nirak Dragon was, once again, alone for the night. Not that he cared - he was used to be alone, talking to both himself and the voices in his head, and singing soft haunting melodies that chilled people to the bone whenever he sung to them. 'Pon the bridge of his nose, a pair of glasses sat :: something that no one ever got to see Nirak wear. He was, to say the least, embarassed at wearing glasses, thinking they made him look stupid. But really, they rather suited him. He sighed, closed his eyes, and ran a hand through his long-ish golden-honey locks, leaning backwards and nearly falling from the branch on which he perched. "Oh death where is thy sting ..." He murmured, shaking his head and sighing once again. Alone, once again.
