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Soul Burn: Bruised Amanda paced back and forth beside the brick courtyard wall. Her chest heaved, her hair was torn from its usual ponytail, and her clothes were scuffed with dirt. She pressed a piece of cloth tightly against the cut below her eye, a faint trail of pink staining the rest of her cheek. Her face contorted in a sneer against the pain.
Amanda whirled around to face the shadow standing behind her. "I- No, I didn't mean-"
"I'm used to being addressed that way." He gave a small chuckle. "Although hearing it from you is new."
All these months after joining their company, Garrett's voice creaked out of his throat as if he were still unused to talking. But his presence no longer made her feel threatened. In fact, she enjoyed his quiet demeanor. "I apologize. I was angry and... well, talking to myself."
"Does that happen often?" Garrett inched forward, glancing at the b
Soul Burn: Last Moments The bed hardly made a sound as she laid Garrett down atop the mattress. His paper thin body barely rustled the sheets, while her weight created valleys as she lowered herself down beside him. Their bedroom was silent, the air heavy; she could hear the rattling in his lungs with each breath he drew in.
"I'm not oblivious, Garrett. I knew that as soon as F'neir died your body would begin to deteriorate." Amanda reached up and cradled his face against her palm, her thumb stroking his cheek. "I just hoped the process would take time, a lot of time.
Garrett snorted. "Hey, get that sad look off your face. I could still kick someone's ass if I wanted to."
Amanda wrapped her arm around his chest. His ribs visibly pushed against his skin and scar tissue. She pulled herself into him, her lips fluttering down just below his collar bone. "Shush. You need to rest."
Soul Burn: Death Amanda sat surrounded by a tableful of councilmen and traveling ambassadors. The only familiar face in the crowd was Logan, simultaneously conducting this meeting while watching over her. Her black clothes matched the bruises under her eyes. She cradled her face against the palms of her hands, hair falling limp against her cheeks. She didn't want to deal with this right now; their arrogant words, their pitying looks cast down upon her, their plans on what to do with him. Him. Just the thought of his name made tears spring up behind her eyes, but she bit her lip, refusing to let them well over.
"Well, he may have been a hero, but he didn't exactly have a clean history."
"...can't believe their going to build a memorial in his name."
"Ah, he's just a corpse now. Dead bodies don't deserve much-"
Amanda slammed her fist against the tab
Soul Burn: Choked "What were you fools thinking? Protecting women! Hah!" Laughter rolled out of this bastard, his chest shook with it. "Women aren't worth anything. Certainly not your lives."
Amanda turned her head to view the damage he had inflicted on her teammates. Garrett and Logan sprawled out in the dirt on the floor of this cave. Both were covered in their own blood and barely hanging on to consciousness. Gods damn it! I've lost track of Naz. This was not a situation she wanted to be in; two friends on the brink of death, one missing, and she herself looking this murderer in the eye.
Please Naz, please be alright. I'm going to need your help. Amanda forced herself up off the ground, gritting her teeth. She was covered head to toe in bruises and cuts. Her muscles began to spasm, voicing their objection to her slow, labored movement. She barely had any strength left. But you have to do this. Y
Soul Burn: Observation Amanda stood in the shade cast by the northern wall the Academy’s emerald green courtyard, watching the younger students practice today’s lesson in physical attacks. She was stationed here not only to instruct and correct mistakes, but also to provide medical care. Just in case things got out of hand. Students were paired together based on their opposition in strengths; they differed in everything from physical size, aptitude, and personality.
“The goal of today’s lesson is for you to incapacitate your partner while inflicting a minimal amount of damage. You’ve trained alongside each other for years; you know their strengths and their weaknesses. Out think them, and take them down,” she paused, slowly sliding her worn brown leather gloves from her hands. “Go.”
Some students dived into their fights, others stood still and assessed their partners. Aman
Morphological Bairn glared piercingly at the woman across from him. She winked back, the color of her hair slowly shifting from red to brown. Her eyes shone a brighter blue. Her skeletal structure melted and reformed under her face.
She was toying with him.
First impressions don’t matter much anymore, but he already didn’t like her. In one fluid motion she stepped forward, turned, and let her shoulders rest against the wall. The brick scratched against the fabric of her clothes, which were-
Nope, he didn’t care. Not one bit. Especially not with her willingly flaunting herself like this in public. She leaned into him, whispering, like a child sharing a secret with a friend.
“Come on, big guy. Loosen up a little.” She rolled her shoulder into him. “Play a little game with me.”
Gonei am woken up
from dreams of you
burnt brain matter
in the hollow of my
thump, thump, thumping
goes my heart
my pulse snaking
venom through my veins now
blackening my skin where
bruises blossom and bloom have
taken up residence un
Lock and Keyi keep an image of you,
you know, caged inside my head
he talks to me wonderfully,
and oh, how he smiles
but his eyes are dead.
it may be high time for me
to hand you the key
ViolinI remember the day
you told me violins
were strung with cat gut
and that is why
you hated music
(who says that to a child?)
I followed you
all that summer.
I watched you
grow away from mother -
your whiskey held better conversations
and all she did was cry.
We'd sit cross-legged on the porch
and count the horseflies
settling on our lunch.
You would drown tadpoles
in a bucket
surprised they could not swim
and I would dream
of cherry popsicles.
And when night would gather
on the sidewalk
I'd hold my breath
until a star appeared.
Don't bother making wishes
you'd tell me -
stars are dead weight in heaven
and God has cloth ears.
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
LullabyHush, my baby,
Be still, don't cry.
Lay with me
A little while.
Close your eyes,
Slow your breath.
Hear your heart
Inside your chest?
Your heart is strong,
It guides you well.
Be sure to listen
To what it tells.
I hear him now,
Outside the room.
It won't be long,
He'll find us soon.
Now close your eyes,
Slow your breath,
And rest your head
Upon my chest.
Darkest MoonI celebrate my right to live;
To the dismay of some, perhaps
It should be noted
These words I write, however true
Are only portions of the moon
I’ve decide to shine light upon.
But who am I to preach respect?
Who Am I to preach equality?
An advocate for re-personification
Of the female gender
But exhibits cannibalistic characteristics
Within dark spaces.
I am a shadow
Hidden within an Eggshell, painted pink,
Waiting to hatch.
Is the darkness
The night brought upon us.
You Were Born Missing SomethingYour skin is glazed with crystals of frost
and your heart's valves are close to
freezing shut tight
from being devoid of something
Though I am torrents of hail, whirling storms,
warm tears streaking,and tornadoes of rage
that flow uncontrollably through my veins
and out of my mouth,
every breath near you is warm
because your words are so cold
I am a natural disaster at its finest
with bones twisted in painful angles
and a crooked spine
you were born spineless
Predators of the nightA gust of wind
Blowing through our hair
The dead leaves
Cracking under our feet
The night sky
A blanket over our heads
And the full moon
Blessing us with its silver light
A perfect night for us hunters
To look for our prey
it was a broken sense of beautifulhis smile was like dust caught
in sunlight; more like a dreamy state
of being than reality, like the half-
remembered yesterday that still haunts your
memories because you
didn't want to forget how it
we'd lie on the floor with
slats of light shot across the ceiling, drinking
in the atmosphere
with windows propped open by
books and yellowed pages,
and by the time
we wandered into sleep, we were drunk instead
smell of roses --
he was a broken kind of beautiful, a
beautiful kind of flawed; love-letters, anonymous
and never sent littered
the dusty floorboards beneath his
of what we were before
love found it's way
back around; hours passed in a sunset haze
as my fingers ghosted over words
he'd written half-asleep, ink smudged on his fingers --
they say the music
comes when your heart's about to break, more
like a whimper than a bang; but i've
never heard a song so
sweet, and this sense of lovely has found it's home
inside my bones --
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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