ardent

The Seducer's Diary



Beherit

Loner

age
1 Year
gender
Female
gems
16
size
Large
build
-
posts
13
player
06-09-2013, 06:18 PM (This post was last modified: 03-28-2017, 08:16 PM by Nyx.)
By Beherit





?You will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit.?

Daylight was a time in which the dame normally slept, and yet slumber refused her repeatedly, no matter how she cried for its company, and so the woman would be cursed to wander the hours of the day. How she abhorred the light, for so harsh was it upon her beautiful eyes that were far more accustomed to the dark than anything else, but she endured it nonetheless. Perhaps a walk would lead her to sleeps resting grounds, and so a bit of a wander was what she took. She wasn't sure where she'd run into, but any type of stimulation would be better than doing nothing - those walls wouldn't be doing any tricks no matter how long she decided to gaze longingly upon them.

To her limbs she brought herself, giving a vigorous shake of her pelt before petite paws carried her to her den's door and blades of light then were felt to caress her ebony pelt with their warmth and light. She was a piece of the puzzle that simply didn't fit, for she was an extra, she was unnatural and dark yet so ethereal at the same time - which is the most terrifying trait of the dame. To be wanted so much while one's instinct was instantly to run at the sight of her. But that is to be expected when one faces Death herself. Still, upon her wandering today, there would be no deaths to be claimed. No, instead her paws bring her to a halt as she notices a patch of lovely wild roses.

Her weakness and flaw, despite the carnage and death she taints the world with, are these beautiful plants. Despite her limbs caring to wander further, to bring her away from those roses, her instinct draws her back and she halts. Delicate dip of her head is given and but a tender whiff is taken from the centerpiece of one of the crimson roses, the lass seen to close her eyes. She savors the sweetness of its scent, softly brushing her cool nose upon those smooth and silky petals, feeling the sensation of what it like to be alive.




Speak


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<div align=center><span style="font-size: 15px; font-family:times; line-height:9px;"><i>?You will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit.? </i></span></div>

Daylight was a time in which the dame normally slept, and yet slumber refused her repeatedly, no matter how she cried for its company, and so the woman would be cursed to wander the hours of the day. How she abhorred the light, for so harsh was it upon her beautiful eyes that were far more accustomed to the dark than anything else, but she endured it nonetheless. Perhaps a walk would lead her to sleeps resting grounds, and so a bit of a wander was what she took. She wasn't sure where she'd run into, but any type of stimulation would be better than doing nothing - those walls wouldn't be doing any tricks no matter how long she decided to gaze longingly upon them.

To her limbs she brought herself, giving a vigorous shake of her pelt before petite paws carried her to her den's door and blades of light then were felt to caress her ebony pelt with their warmth and light. She was a piece of the puzzle that simply didn't fit, for she was an extra, she was unnatural and dark yet so ethereal at the same time - which is the most terrifying trait of the dame. To be wanted so much while one's instinct was instantly to run at the sight of her. But that is to be expected when one faces Death herself. Still, upon her wandering today, there would be no deaths to be claimed. No, instead her paws bring her to a halt as she notices a patch of lovely wild roses.

Her weakness and flaw, despite the carnage and death she taints the world with, are these beautiful plants. Despite her limbs caring to wander further, to bring her away from those roses, her instinct draws her back and she halts. Delicate dip of her head is given and but a tender whiff is taken from the centerpiece of one of the crimson roses, the lass seen to close her eyes. She savors the sweetness of its scent, softly brushing her cool nose upon those smooth and silky petals, feeling the sensation of what it like to be alive.




<i style="color: #339999;">Speak</i></div></td></tr></table>




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