Chaos is God in a system of true disorder. And I seek to my title of God, I have no care for whoever crumples to nothing in my persuit to achieve such.
He was a child of a million deaths, a childish boy who was the epitome of space's immortality. The child was chaos, a dream wonderland of what their ancestors spoiled prosperity for. If the child's scars were laid in poison that slowly totalled his gifts, there would be no doubt that he would not have been as chosen as his multiple skins before him. --APalace Of Ulric labyrinths, Elvira Crest.
࿐IRENE ࿐ |Orcus-??|
THE GREAT PLANET of Orcus had swelled steadily still referred to its later weeks of war and bloodshed or its previous years of honourable composure illustrated through their wild plants of green, yellow, pink and blue that stretched among their structures as children hopped about the hospitable streets without a care.
Short spurs of singed smoke launched into the sky with wings of assault, their undersized seeds shaking with incendiary flames of carnage. Searing orange crawled between the atmosphere as rumbles that outmatched the world's innate reprisal of thunder boomed. The encompassing cities had failed to take notice of a call that should have had them gone days before-their civilian blood now slithering in with the fatal leakage of their soldiers. The sight of Orcus, the 13th planet of the Calignes system, was more than merely gruesome. Families' retention of a beloved past tarred black with the now gaunt flames, toys of probity branded jet, all because of a single person's hegemony as the last of the realm's humanity grinded into nothing. Before what many called the ill will incongruity, the air would pacify, clutching in its breath of life as it became deceased like the many million hearts surrounding it. The land would standstill on a spike, not for the supremes' overtures, but the Devil's one of frugal sacrifice.
The Devil's shameful redemption manufactured by his own uncut hands.
A finger twitched from beyond the brine of bodies, the ritual of blood around it enough to dent an ocean into being. The breaking finger twitched again, jerking away from the body that held securely atop the rest of its arm, revealing torn vermillion flesh and the body of a young woman. The bodies around her fell apart, diving away from her as if the planet had split in two and she was the reincarnation of whatever adversity had escaped the hellish forces below them.
"Remarkable, isn't it?" The Devil's voice wasn't as pretty as many claimed, just a cackle of lava sizzling over a raw slope of snow. It made people flinch out of the fear of getting burned.
The King of Gore stood at the rim of the piled bodies that partly barred her, his distilled robes a dotted flush of daylight in the scorched setting around them. His mask gleamed so bright, so horrid.
