Post by TEAGAN TEAGAN TEAGAN TEAGAN TE on Oct 18, 2010 17:31:17 GMT -5
The sunlight glistened on the wet grass and the wet trees, lighting some hanging droplets like glass dangling from a chandelier. Grass and trees? Perhaps it was more like grass and weeds. Lots of stones and junk littered the place like sprinkles on an ice cream cone. What was this, the local garbage dump?
Once upon a time, the Diadem Fortress served as the headquarters for some underground organization. It was even shielded from passerby using all sorts of intricate spells. At some point, the enchantments faded away, and the archaic ruins, it would seem, turned into this mess like a caterpillar metamorphosing into a slug instead of a butterfly. One could call it disgraceful. Then again, one could call it fitting, seeing as it once housed such a troublesome mob...
From an artistic viewpoint, the ruins themselves could be quite lovely. Perhaps an able mind could turn mentally twist the trash into pretty fluttery decorations upon a tasty candy castle.
A young witch kicked an empty beer bottle, watching with dull interest as it rolled into a pile of well-used newspapers. Frankly, they appeared as though a few dozen cats used them for a toilet. In an ambiguous situation such as this, the lady decided to assume they were wet from rain, and the brown smudges were only mud.
It was about eight in the morning with the sun quietly waking the country landscape and little gray clouds scattered across the sky as if they were the remains of an epic snowball fight by the gods.
The witch had returned home about an hour ago, changed her clothes, ate breakfast. She stretched out her arms, sore from work, and gazed silently over the once impenetrable fortress that now had not a single caretaker to its name. The aura of the structure with its gray stones and rough patches and occasional bones made one feel, more than one knew for a fact, that this was the grave site of innumerable people over the centuries. The earth here must have drunk more than its fill of blood.
She wandered a few more yards pass the fortress gate, her shoes stepping so softly against the ground as she moved. What could the witch say? Places like these intrigued her.
Then again, curiosity killed the cat.
DERP!Once upon a time, the Diadem Fortress served as the headquarters for some underground organization. It was even shielded from passerby using all sorts of intricate spells. At some point, the enchantments faded away, and the archaic ruins, it would seem, turned into this mess like a caterpillar metamorphosing into a slug instead of a butterfly. One could call it disgraceful. Then again, one could call it fitting, seeing as it once housed such a troublesome mob...
From an artistic viewpoint, the ruins themselves could be quite lovely. Perhaps an able mind could turn mentally twist the trash into pretty fluttery decorations upon a tasty candy castle.
A young witch kicked an empty beer bottle, watching with dull interest as it rolled into a pile of well-used newspapers. Frankly, they appeared as though a few dozen cats used them for a toilet. In an ambiguous situation such as this, the lady decided to assume they were wet from rain, and the brown smudges were only mud.
It was about eight in the morning with the sun quietly waking the country landscape and little gray clouds scattered across the sky as if they were the remains of an epic snowball fight by the gods.
The witch had returned home about an hour ago, changed her clothes, ate breakfast. She stretched out her arms, sore from work, and gazed silently over the once impenetrable fortress that now had not a single caretaker to its name. The aura of the structure with its gray stones and rough patches and occasional bones made one feel, more than one knew for a fact, that this was the grave site of innumerable people over the centuries. The earth here must have drunk more than its fill of blood.
She wandered a few more yards pass the fortress gate, her shoes stepping so softly against the ground as she moved. What could the witch say? Places like these intrigued her.
Then again, curiosity killed the cat.