Post by Tiberius Spurius on Jan 30, 2006 21:46:34 GMT -5
The wheels on the bus went round and round as it headed to it's stop just outside of Drakborough; the tempo that the wheels set was a stressor for human ears, but to a calmer and more sophisticated mind they were a symphony in their own right. Each time the wheel rotated completely, a minuscule pop could be heard and a whole new composition of sound would come forth. One could grow old and die to listening to such a relaxing thing, though sensual pleasure completely outmatched anything else in this everlasting world. The works of Homer, the teaching of Plato, the letters of Cicero, the symphonies of Beethoven, the wondrous works of Raphael, the angelic voice of any choir, and the witty works of the Bard had nothing on the simplicity of the senses.
Slowly the Knight Bus ground to a halt; passengers that were unaccustomed to this suicidal ride were thrown against the sides while veterans of the bus merely shrugged as if nothing happened. Grumbling and complaining humans trudged off the bus, and as it's engines revved up to make it's next trip; a large figure gracefully jumped down from his reclining perch on the Bus. The figure was of a large stature; he stood at 7 feet tall and in the dark of Night was quite an ominous figure.
Though in the scant light that came from the stars and Moon above, one could tell this was no mortal that stood at the street side. The figure had blond hair, his eyes were a color of pale green; so utterly enticing that any female would fall for them. His body looked as if it was sculpted by one of the Greek masters and his pale complexion made him look like the God Apollo. Only his glasses made this unearthly man seem human, but he clearly didn't need them. He was garbed in clothing as black as the Night itself with small, crimson strips on his shoulders like rank on a solider. Only these patterns had no translation and that they stood for was only know to the being. But what were his cloths and his glasses? Any immortal being had no real use for such objects, but it was these littles things that added to their already enticing and seductive personalities, so all the better.
If there was one thing that moved the lone being; it was passion of any form large or small. This being's travels had spanned many a century; it was at least since 470 B.C since he had been home. He had traveled in the Legions of the Great Trajan, seduced the wifes of many powerful and influential humans of that time, pitted Lords against each other after sleeping with their ladies, fought in the Hundred Year's War on both sides, was the one of the consorts to Katherine the Great and used her to start a war against Poland. The exploits of this figure spanned a good deal of the history of mankind, but after all those events in time; he had returned to the place that he called home.
Many say that home is where the heart is, and even for a wanderer such as Tiberius Spurius, it pained him to be away for so long and not see those that were like him. For it was the others of his kind that he truly enjoyed being in the presence of for it was in their company that he always had to be on his toes. The beauty and logical wit that he shared with his brothers and sisters was immense, and there was many a time in the Past that Tiberius had been tempted by his own sisters. But that was the distant past, and Tiberius couldn't even remember his siblings save that they were out there somewhere.
It was the urge at the back of his mental conscious, to see his siblings again, that drove the Nephilim here. He hadn't felt such a concentration of his siblings since perhaps they first came into existence; all those years ago. So whether his siblings remembered him or the sight of them reinstalled his old memories of them; the Past was dead between them and the Future was their's for the taking. That is, if the Future was what they wanted. What Tiberius desired now was so be enraptured by the warmth of a female human, and such comforts and pleasures wouldn't be hard to find in a village such as Drakborough.
For every life that comes into this Earth; a multitude is taken away.
For every dawning breath; the sounds of choking Death overwhelm those breaths
For every dawning breath; the sounds of choking Death overwhelm those breaths
Slowly the Knight Bus ground to a halt; passengers that were unaccustomed to this suicidal ride were thrown against the sides while veterans of the bus merely shrugged as if nothing happened. Grumbling and complaining humans trudged off the bus, and as it's engines revved up to make it's next trip; a large figure gracefully jumped down from his reclining perch on the Bus. The figure was of a large stature; he stood at 7 feet tall and in the dark of Night was quite an ominous figure.
Though in the scant light that came from the stars and Moon above, one could tell this was no mortal that stood at the street side. The figure had blond hair, his eyes were a color of pale green; so utterly enticing that any female would fall for them. His body looked as if it was sculpted by one of the Greek masters and his pale complexion made him look like the God Apollo. Only his glasses made this unearthly man seem human, but he clearly didn't need them. He was garbed in clothing as black as the Night itself with small, crimson strips on his shoulders like rank on a solider. Only these patterns had no translation and that they stood for was only know to the being. But what were his cloths and his glasses? Any immortal being had no real use for such objects, but it was these littles things that added to their already enticing and seductive personalities, so all the better.
If there was one thing that moved the lone being; it was passion of any form large or small. This being's travels had spanned many a century; it was at least since 470 B.C since he had been home. He had traveled in the Legions of the Great Trajan, seduced the wifes of many powerful and influential humans of that time, pitted Lords against each other after sleeping with their ladies, fought in the Hundred Year's War on both sides, was the one of the consorts to Katherine the Great and used her to start a war against Poland. The exploits of this figure spanned a good deal of the history of mankind, but after all those events in time; he had returned to the place that he called home.
Many say that home is where the heart is, and even for a wanderer such as Tiberius Spurius, it pained him to be away for so long and not see those that were like him. For it was the others of his kind that he truly enjoyed being in the presence of for it was in their company that he always had to be on his toes. The beauty and logical wit that he shared with his brothers and sisters was immense, and there was many a time in the Past that Tiberius had been tempted by his own sisters. But that was the distant past, and Tiberius couldn't even remember his siblings save that they were out there somewhere.
It was the urge at the back of his mental conscious, to see his siblings again, that drove the Nephilim here. He hadn't felt such a concentration of his siblings since perhaps they first came into existence; all those years ago. So whether his siblings remembered him or the sight of them reinstalled his old memories of them; the Past was dead between them and the Future was their's for the taking. That is, if the Future was what they wanted. What Tiberius desired now was so be enraptured by the warmth of a female human, and such comforts and pleasures wouldn't be hard to find in a village such as Drakborough.