LANDLINE PASCOM

CHAPTER VIII

The ELC is a supreme court of all perfection, a throng of masked individuals running Pascom City with their own extensive ways to harvest a lucrative outcome with their own stock. Renowned after connecting to the incessant exchanges teased by foreigners, their reign grew mighty as time passed by, and like wine, the heir brewed it perfectly for better taste in each time that would pass. Such excellence as given to her by her own perception of life. That every outcome can be sold, and every arrow can turn to the point at the roof. The astuteness of hers was a beauty, but the business she extolled is just an ambidexterity malleable to her own hands to knead.

Hera Clementina Montreux, the heir of all beings, the mother of all animals, the prodigal daughter of the ANIMALIA initiative. The profoundness of her ascension to greatness is never to be towered by anything, as she is the byproduct of the initiative's wanting. The manifestation of a titan, and is hailed to be the greatest showman that bought the districts of Pascom with their own money. A mighty ruler, an apple to the eyes of many, and a peaky rapscallion. No one can oust the greatness of Hera that weaved the company with her own hands. Not a being can forget the masked woman behind the mask of a swan. And to her members, a throng of clamorous animals, and satyr masked dancers that pleased her as she sat atop of her own making. Drunk with extravagance, and of wine, and dough. This is the underlying statement of a business is to be, in one particular notice, as one could stand high, aloft, they are to be considered as saints that lubricated and oiled the machinery they forged.

As to Hera, in order to keep everything at peace, she proposed the existence of Networks, an interconnected layout of individuals, her own sons and daughters that would object to the declination of other people. Subjecting them with a brutal outcome would wet her own feet with blood. Beneath the lowest foundation of Pascom were these abominations, keeping balance with their antediluvian making. Such fetishes are propagated in order to keep every reaping being claimed as a good harvest. On such occasions, the Mother Swan—the Queen Swan would order a hit to a neighboring crony that thwarted her own gusto.

Secessing from the ELC's ludicrous aspect of life, and so, the poor scum that apostatised her own image will be the sacrificial lamb. And so, to cleanse their own stench, the reeking of their blood that whiffs debacles will be compiled to a pitcher before being poured at the feet of the Swan Queen. Afterwards, hulking masquerade wearing beefcake males will serve her by licking those toe nails she had in order to inspire forgiveness to the doubting mother of all beings. But with regality, if the Swan Queen demands care and affection satyr masked maidens will sport her with heels in which these masquerade fellows would indulge in fornication, an inanimate object that would stir their own sexual interests as the mother watches them from her seat, begging to be loved by her own seed. In rare occasions, blood would be poured to their peter whilst sliding through in order to climax, omitting to dirty her own feet, these fuckfaces would seed the very ground in front of Hera where thickness of their own masculine offspring will be strewn freely.

In response to such canoodling, the Queen Swan would clamber down with her blooded heels only to step on those pulsating sexual junk they had ejaculated. In pure pleasure that the mother of all things would sometimes step on them with her own feet. The absence of light below this cavernous place is apparent, and all sexual endeavors are welcomed. Only the halls of this place can mock them for such ridicule. Straying from their immoral changes that are capricious, all masked children of the Swan Queen had been called in order for them to know such conflict that the ELC is facing. The masked child of hers wearing a hummingbird mask reached out to her to deliver a disappointing news of what had happened last night, the Network sent to check over the passionate killer she forebear had been injured severely.

Abating much time, conjecturing is capricious. She shook her head in disapproval and dissented to misconceive such a raving foster kid she breathed. All children waited in anticipation, the hummingbird, the messenger looked at them with an obvious expression. Within his own disguise oozed the Queen's remark. In abjection, and ignorance over the withdrawing son she had lost. The children conducted an assessment, therefore, after thorough deducing, they concluded their own response for this depressing matter. The satyr maidens handed them their own circular handheld signs, in all cherry, it was a clear answer that ruddiness is held into reconsideration. A subject for termination under the kisses of her children that wanted contrasts to be vanished.