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 | ..Oh how the warm summer nights appealed to the sultry demoness. It built passion 'neath the charcoal striped gilded coat she wore in her other form -- and added a more sultry bloodlust to the keen irids of cobalt. This time she resumed a human shape, clad in silks of iv'ry and snow, draping o'er the slender mocha frame in large, enfolding whisps; giving the goddess a rapturous appeal...like an anchient memorial princess being marked out for sacrifice. The tendrils of raven spilt from the regal crown, entangled by the vague eminence of the breeze, locks blooming in her wake of turbulence. The ebonite of her tendrils held still a slight aureate gold streak here and there...while also the change was evident in the feliness eyes...a dim and dangerous illumination outlining the iris of the fem. For those who didn't know her...soon would -- and those who did would soon become an acolyte. Or so would perish these immortal demons, thinking it not a problem to immolate any.. .x. Through the forests of the night .x. |
Alias..Kida Rinaldi Persuasian..Desired Persona..A rugged rogue, jaded vagrant, cynical and exotic...more beneath the surface only few have sought to find.. Seniority..17 winters endured Imagery..See above Tiger, tiger, burning bright, In the forest of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire? And what shoulder, and what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart? When thy heart began to beat, What dread hand forged thy dread feet? What the hammer? What the chain? In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? What dread grasp Dared its deadly terrors clasp? When the stars threw down their spears And watered heaven with their tears, Did He smile his work to see? Did He who made the lamb make thee? Tiger, tiger, burning bright, In the forest of the night, What immortal hand or eye Dare frame thy fearful symmetry? --Wiliam Blake |