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 Post subject: An Invitation to the End
PostPosted: Sun Sep 21, 2008 2:25 pm 
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Everything was so . . . dark. This world--this Utopia--was falling apart at the seems. The methods were unclear, but the results were visible to the naked eye. Nations were collapsing, people were dying, and the world as they knew it was coming to an end. The darkness was like a torrential hurricane that could spawn at any point at any time; it only only but a single goal: to feed. The warm flesh of a fresh kill, or a still living being, regardless of its species, race, age, and gender--that was the preference.

The darkness was a mystery; it could not be understood. To look into it was to look into to expanse of the universe and know that nothing could ever truly be explained. The shadows were a primal fear; a discomfort felt by all beings when encountering that which they would never understand.

The fear of the unknown.

It devoured the hearts of men, women, and children alike, it swallowed whole cities, it ravaged nations and destroyed the infrastructure that many held onto as a final hope. Ever since the new year, it had only gotten progressively worse. And then there was the light: an equally as undefined and misunderstood concept that humanity saw hope within, and it--they--seemed every bit of protectors to these people.

And yet, there was still more to come.

Which was exactly why he was here. To survey the damage, look over the scars and shattered lives, and discern if there truly was any life yet unsmothered.

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 Post subject: Re: An Invitation to the End
PostPosted: Sun Sep 21, 2008 7:35 pm 
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Forgive the glorious lack of fanfare! No parties, no orgies, no celebrations this day; no sacrifices, weeping virgins, or glorious feasts I can lay at your feet! Not even your peers are here to welcome you. The Garden is barren. The shadows beaten back with brawn and gore. But look! On the horizon! The sun weeps blood as if slain and bathes the fucking world in crimson. The rubble rises to meet it, misshapenly clawing at the sky, yearning for its once beautiful form. Not even vagabonds roam here; nor monsters, nor angels in the dark for fear of what was loosed here! Culled were the raw fucking animals of mankind and loosed on Gaia's unwanted, unclaimed, pitch brood. HAH! I, LEMON, CREATED SOMETHING MORE FEROCIOUS THAN THE DARK!

Lemon set upon Tabris without warning and with malice. A yellow whirlwind enveloped the white intrusion and swept him up as a tempest devours driftwood. In Lemon's own mind they crashed, the furious storm resolving into a mal-formed, yellow king. His emotions so fluently disturbed as to reflect upon his normally well-controlled mental image. A saffron robe flickered violently between flowing, fabric curves and wickedly spiked, reptilian wings; the hair on the telepath's head moved as if of its own accord in every direction like a thousand burning candles in the wind. The scenery the two were pulled into displayed a long hall--the temple that once stood in the Garden where the denizens worshiped the malicious God Zitrone--filled with moving tapestries that shifted from silk fabric to the actual events they displayed. Every one a different angle of the same horrific scene; shadows rising up and devouring human organs while the blood still beat through the capillaries, feeble attempts to fight back, hope waning, shadows winning, and all the while the dark crept closer and closer to the temple.

Lemon turned, his barking laugh booming through the hall, amplified as if thunder itself paced in front of the golden throne. The whole temple trembled and the walls bled scarlet--Lemon's form solidified into that of a terrible, red king with eyes and hair as flaxen as the greatest coward's spine. Wings the size of buildings caressed the ceiling and sides of the expansive hall with probing ivory claws. Lemon's voice cracked as alternating anger and sorrow bubbled forth almost indistinguishably at the end of his speech--the tapestries revealing the details of his madness.

The God appeared above the temple to the denizens of the Garden holding a great chain that encompassed the entirety of the town and all its inhabitants. He drew it taught, held it high above his head, and obliterated it in a single motion using all the power and glory of the heavens on high. The Garden understood. These shadows could be killed. If they wished to be free, they had to free themselves. Faces contorted in fear and pain now snarled and gnashed their teeth at the sea of consuming black. The wave of shadow hit the tide of writhing human bodies and receded! Mankind rose up and hurled itself at the darkness with a inhuman belligerence. The oppressed became the oppressor; life emerged and vanquished death! To a man, the Garden fought for their right to finally die, and to take an overwhelming portion of the darkness to the grave with them--allowing the untarnished, privileged citizens of Zitrone to escape almost entirely unharmed. As the final member of the Garden perished, smile upon his face, and the black mass dissipated for lack of life to feed upon, the tiny Lemon effigy clutched himself in the temple and laughed hysterically.

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 Post subject: Re: An Invitation to the End
PostPosted: Tue Sep 23, 2008 11:38 am 
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It wasn't long after the not-so-coveted arrival of the albino that a gust of wind stuck him without warning or mercy. The albino, clad in his traditional dress shirt and slacks, looking more like a post-adolescent school-boy than anything else, was notably surprised.

The scenery change was so quick that he could not keep track of it--all Tabris had experienced was a sudden drop onto his rear and back. It hurt, but he didn't think much of it. His eyes opened slowly as he lethargically sat up, his back straight, but body still upon the ground--or floor, it seemed. Indeed, the scenery change was bizarre, but stranger things had happened, correct? No--

--they hadn't.

Lemon had lost his mind.

Stranger things hadn't happened.

Crimson down the walls, moving pictures, frame by frame depicting the last breaths of those that Lemon spent his entire life tormenting. It was as if part of his devotion was gone; those that were to be in a state of eternal happiness were saved, but those that were not were permitted to finally die. The beast, the rage, the madness. Tabris observed it all as he pulled himself to his feet. This was an entirely different Lemon. The End was affecting even a man like him.

"My, my--you're certainly in an interesting mood today," remarked the albino quietly. He had an extremely hesitant method of speaking, though . . .

It was . . . strange. As it was, Tabris could not actually comprehend the human emotion of fear or intimidation. It was a completely foreign experience for him, and yet, for the first time in his life, he found himself almost ready to stumble over his words. The albino was feeling something other than joy.

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 Post subject: Re: An Invitation to the End
PostPosted: Tue Sep 23, 2008 8:53 pm 
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"Tabris!" Lemon's voice grated the word out slowly as he leaned forward, the claws of his wings raking the granite walls. He looked at the white figure, not comprehending his existence or his presence in the pseudokinetic's mind; that it was Tabris didn't matter--he had said the name subconsciously--but he was a witness.

SEE!

The ground before Tabris opened up into a dark pit big enough for a man to fit into, but not much more. Extreme cold and heat both could be felt emerging from the chasm in intervals, and before long a wailing howl crept slowly to the top. From the blackness of shadow emerged a figure of night. Human in shape, but jet black with glowing red eyes, suspended in midair by a crooked spike pierced through her head, the obviously feminine shade thrashed at the spike holding her aloft, slowly ascending above the portal in the floor.

Lemon started giggling uncontrollably, his fit causing the world they were in to waver between the solid temple and a sea of fire just beyond the walls. The telepath crawled along the ceiling using the crimson appendages, positioning himself above the shadow before relaxing slightly, descending less than an inch from the top of the shade's head. He nuzzled it. He kissed it. He licked the black liquid oozing from the wound, and again he giggled. His violent laughter dislodged him from the walls and he collapsed to the floor, still hysterical, still holding his sides in agony. The shade's spike receded into the floor and dropped her like a wet rag, the floor resolving into its normal solidity.

Lemon rose before the shade, small tremors of laughter still bubbling up as he hunched forward and inspected the crumpled mass. A flick of the wrist--from the ceiling plummeted a one ton dagger of granite, severing the thing's spine and grinding the body into oblivion. Another flick and the dagger disappeared; the dark creature resolved, howling bloody murder. Both hands; crisscrossing spikes rocketed up from the floor and pierced through the velvet skin, hoisting her aloft and hesitating for a full second before uncrossing, ripping her body in two. The process of re-apparition occurred again, and again she squealed in pain while Lemon echoed with glee. She died again and again, by fire, by dismemberment, by suffocation and impalement, and every time she reappeared; every time, Lemon casually motioned this way or that and brought about another gruesome death, staring lustfully at the seared or devastated corpse in that millisecond before reformation.

When he was satisfied his witness must surly understand the point, he broke his entranced vigil of the mutilation and moved it behind him, closer to the throne, where it could continue on unhindered but the witness would be able to hear him above the screams.

They. Gave. It. A. MIND! Lemon's laughter reverberated in the hall louder than the shade's dying screams.

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 Post subject: Re: An Invitation to the End
PostPosted: Thu Sep 25, 2008 11:52 pm 
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". . . is it . . ." Tabris was . . . surprised, actually. "It really is . . ."

A shadeling . . .

The Albino stared up at the writhing creature, dumbfounded. He hadn't expected the Garden to possess enough unfortunate men, women, and children for a shadeling to be produced. He was curious, but at the same time, he did not want to see it. That in itself was strange; usually, Tabris could find pleasure in observing anything and everything, from a happy family picnic to a man undergoing the most brutal torture imaginable. And yet, as he felt his heart beating faster, Tabris wanted this creature to go away.

"I've . . . never seen one in person before," Tabris remarked, his awe clouded by the tortures the creature received at Lemon's will.

It was at that moment that Lemon provided the creature the torture of being ripped in two. A black fluid, viscous, its texture a perfect replica of human blood, was spilled in excess, filling the area like a river bursting through a dam, splattering, splotching, staining the walls, the paintings, and the floor just as it had each and every time Lemon unleashed agony upon the creature.

Though he had been clean up until this point, that torture splotched darkness upon the Albino's face. Obsidian droplets spotted down his forehead and right cheek, narrowly missing his eye. For the first time in history, the Albino's eyes grew as wide as they could, and with fair reason:

The shadows were boiling.

But not upon the floor, the walls, or the ceiling. No, it was only upon Tabris in which the splotches of darkness emitted an enriched sizzle, producing steam and a sickening smell--the smell of skin burning. Boiling. For a moment, Tabris simply stood there, eyes wide, lips agape. The feeling from earlier, when he looked upon Lemon and felt intimidation--comparatively, it was no more fear than one felt around an unloaded gun. This new sensation, however, was one he could not possibly ignore; it held no euphoria, no joy. There was no child-like smile upon the Albino's lips. His fingers trembled when the pain finally set in.

His eyes shut tightly and he bent forward, nearly throwing himself to his knees. Using the backs of his arms, then finally his bare hands, he wiped off as much of it as he could. The steam produced from his face was transferred to his arms and palms, but quickly dissipated. The darkness upon him was no more; it had left in its place deep marks of gray where it had touched the Albino. In the end, Tabris found himself standing hunched over, staring at his open palms with wide eyes, watching the gray carve its way into his flesh. He coughed once--twice, his entire body reacting negatively. It felt like every muscle in his body was trembling, while his heart may very well have been thriving more beats per second than could possibly be monitored.

Why am I . . . shaking . . .?

This entire sensation had never been experienced before.

It was terrifying.

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 Post subject: Re: An Invitation to the End
PostPosted: Sun Sep 28, 2008 10:38 pm 
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At first, Tabris's torment was taken to be worship. He bowed before the might that was Lemon and the mercy he displayed in his infinite infallible wisdom, what else could it be? Elated, cackling, the Saffron King turned to watch the show once more. True to form, however, the Albino whore killed the premier pseudokinetic's buzz; as he veritably screamed within his own skull, it was difficult for any psychic--even one as weak as Akita--to drown out the haze of static. It was numbing, devoid of substance, and annoying as fuck.

All at once, the facade evaporated into the waning twilight. As Lemon crept back from his primal rage and became more aware, his ability to bring thoughts into reality seized and flitted back to the hidden vault where he kept the less flowery, appreciable parts of his psyche. The temple crumbled back into the rubble the shades had left it in, the tapestries bursting into flame and aiding in the decomposition. Lemon returned his normal guise and settled the piss yellow, furry mantle back upon his shoulders, looking down at the pathetic husk that was the shadeling before him. The torture continued on in her mind; as sudden as the change from insanity to "normal" may have seemed, Lemon never lost sight of his priorities. Behind him, the source of his slight discomfort, Tabris mirrored the pathetic creature directly opposite--a mental note made of what exactly had occurred when he saw the evaporating patches of night upon his flesh. He made no move to help Tabris, he'd have to get over it. He wasn't the only one having a bad day in the immediate vicinity.



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 Post subject: Re: An Invitation to the End
PostPosted: Tue Sep 30, 2008 4:39 pm 
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Though it was only a construct of the mind in which Tabris had been afflicted, the effects had not gone away: the Albino still felt pain and emptiness where he had been touched by the liquid darkness. It confounded him; an effect physical that carried over from the hallucinations and mental abuse of a creature . . . and into his reality. In what was real, far from a twisted hallucination within a newly formed mind, or a series of thoughts experienced by several minds at once, Tabris still retained injury from the experience.

He had seen vaguely familiar before, yet never experienced it himself. The darkness was susceptible to the light, and vice versa. The Albino's observations were nothing like this, though. All he knew was that a Lumen could defeat a shade just as easily as a shade could a Lumen, and sometimes the effects were catastrophic. But Lumen fared so much better in combat; in all of Tabris's observations, shades were primarily the ones cut down . . .

That did not mean he had ever touched a shade before, though. If he recalled correctly, Tarruen--a fellow of his--had mentioned the pain experienced by touching a shade's skin with his own, that he always hated to fight them because he had to use weapons rather than his bare hands. Is this what was supposed to happen? Even though it happened in his and her mind, the scars of gray were still upon him. Were their existences truly that potent of an opposite? Tabris had lost himself in thought for just a moment, all whilst he stared blankly at the speckles of gray upon his palms. It did not take long for him to straighten up, though.

". . . well . . ." Tabris began to return to his jovial demeanor, but with much shakiness. He found himself needing to put effort behind it. "That was an interesting experience . . ."

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 Post subject: Re: An Invitation to the End
PostPosted: Fri Oct 03, 2008 10:35 pm 
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Lemon quirked a brow, his eyes lingering on the boy's face. Hate prevented him from speaking at the moment. Lemon turned from Tabris in time to receive a full force shriek from the writhing black lump on the floor, taking it in like a connoisseur evaluating a particularly old, well fermented cask. She lingered for just one more savory moment and was gone; absorbed into the shadows or hidden by Lemon's will, the effect was the same. She was Lemon's now, and he didn't like what had happened between the albino and the tortured, black soul.

An extended silence stretched onward unchecked while Lemon gathered himself; sadistic urges not quite satisfied kept bubbling up, demanding attention. It was unfortunate, but he couldn't lay the blame for all that occurred on Tabris--after all, he played for the opposite team. That fact alone stayed any further outbursts from the pseudokinetic's personal wrath. At length, he was able to get out a single strangled word.

"What?"

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 Post subject: Re: An Invitation to the End
PostPosted: Tue Oct 07, 2008 11:30 am 
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Lemon, even in a self aware and conscious state--beyond his blissful insanity which commanded his mental annihilation--could not muster an absurdity beyond his own flagrant sadism; humorless, pitiless (as if he ever had such a thing), and solemn in his own rights, yet enraged and teetering upon madness all the same. Tabris, who lacked in empathy to such a degree that he could not understand the pain of starvation in the human children of the Garden--before their inevitable demise--was even able to discern this.

"I'm sure you've noticed by now . . ." Tabris inhaled once, and exhaled his ill-feelings shortly thereafter, "That the world has quickly set fire."

Set aflame by sparks of achromatic light and shadow--

--but for the garden, it was only the flames flit by shadow which had been witnessed. Tabris had not introduced Lumen into the domain of Zitrone and Lemon's Garden; he had refrained and skipped over the populous, not out of pity, but out of a botched sense of respect for the telepath. They had not experienced the second scourge, nor the agony of being whited out from the face of the planet . . .

That botched sense of respect followed through, and brought Tabris here, when, in truth, he should have been elsewhere, laying preparation and ensuring the course of fate.

Time was all the Albino needed to regain his demeanor. A smile crept upon his lips once again, and empathy and sympathy and sadness, hate, pain, and anger, all ceased to function, and the Albino progressively felt less human and more like the white skinned, well dressed mental and emotional monster that he truly was. And it made him happy. Truly, genuinely happy. The pain, the liquid shadows, and the gray scars that still clung to his face made him feel what it was like to be human--humbled, reduced from his state of divine joy, damned to a fit of disconnected feelings of which he could not comprehend or act upon.

"Lemon," Tabris announced the golden pseudokinetic's name in a state bordering on pride--the first time he ever used his name out loud, "I've come to present you a proposition-- an invitation."

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 Post subject: Re: An Invitation to the End
PostPosted: Tue Oct 07, 2008 6:27 pm 
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"Fire? Burn? Heh; fire, water, burn! Burn it all, amirite? The world's drowning in darkness and evaporating in light, scorched by greed and apathy. BUT WHAT OF THE GARDEN, TABRIS!? You think any of them deserved to die!? I was the sole guardian of those souls who had no want nor care in the world for they knew no comfort! Nothing, Tabris, nothing in their mutilated fucking minds knew wealth, safety, pleasure, or even sanity! Death was the only gift any of them received, and it was my right to bestow upon them and MINE ALONE!"

At first, Lemon ignored Tabris completely--and rightfully so. Perhaps Tabris was ready to let go of the Garden so easily, the place where he was trained and allowed utmost freedom, but for all intents and purposes every member of the Garden was like one of Lemon's children. He could still rattle off the names of every single soul who passed through, however briefly their life might have been. Whole generations had been born and rotted away unburied or consumed by their own kin, and Lemon himself held their hand every step of the way like the wickedly twisted parent he saw himself as. He grieved, as was natural, but even Lemon--fiend of the uncharted territories he may have been--was, after all Lemon. He got over it.

"Invitation? 'The fuck? We goin to a party? I'm afraid I've misplaced Akita so I don't have anything nice to wear."

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 Post subject: Re: An Invitation to the End
PostPosted: Fri Oct 10, 2008 3:25 pm 
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What of the Garden--

Tabris mentally acknowledged his own accuracy. It was easy any of them to tell that much, though--all of Lemon's telepaths. Tabris had been trained by the absurd man of many ears and many eyes, and by observation alone, came to know quite a bit about the man--he even came to respect the entity to a certain extent, which was considerable, as Tabris held little respect for any life. Incidentally, that had lead Tabris here, and kept him from pawning off his own kind to Lemon--those destructive albinos. The Garden was always a focus of Lemon's--of all of theirs. Even Tabris was going to miss it. There, he had been a god--a white god, a light god, a messenger of gods, an angel descendant upon mankind, or average boy; he was whatever he wanted to be.

Fortunately, it seemed as if Lemon was able to reason after venting his frustration--eternal frustration, at that. Just picking up anywhere and creating yet another Garden was illogical; there was no emotional attachment. It would have to be grown--hate would have to develop, and that took time.

"Not a party, 'less you'd wish to call it such--but not a party where formalities matter."

Although he had recently rekindled the spirit of his joy, Tabris had to throw that aside for the time being: he had to be serious. The happiness was still there; only when he found himself scarred had he been able to get rid of it--and sadly, those scars had permanence . . .

But no more permanence that what was to come.

"It's an invitation-- to the End of the World."

And by Tabris's tone, serious, yet jovial, and by historical evidence, this was in no way a ruse or a metaphor. Lemon had seen himself the terror that was tearing the world apart. In the Garden, he witnessed only the dark, but in other nations--Greoul, for example, where he had eyes and ears, he'd have witnessed both the light and dark, and the terror they could unleash when they fought . . . or ignored each other and mutually focused upon the populous--the beings who sought solace in the light . . .

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 Post subject: Re: An Invitation to the End
PostPosted: Fri Oct 10, 2008 7:38 pm 
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"Gee Tabris, you sure are one suave motherfucker, know just how to treat a lady. Barge in after such a delicate flower as myself's been raped and neigh murdered and then offer her a night on the town. Such a whorish dame that I am though, you might as well have come on a white horse with chocolates and a dildo strapped to your forehead. End of the world, you say? Must admit I thought I'd be the one facilitating such a dubious act m'self, but if I have to watch someone else do it then I may as well have a good 'ol time criticizing their work and shitting on it. Gaily bedight my queer, gallant knight; I feel the need to witness the glorious mother of destruction at her finest."

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 Post subject: Re: An Invitation to the End
PostPosted: Mon Oct 13, 2008 7:17 pm 
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Of course Lemon was interested in the concept of the world's conclusion. A wave of destruction was finally rising to its full potential, and now that shallows that troubled the world had churned into a beast that could swallow their collective reality and leave only a blank in its wake--a blank slate. A blank world. A blank reality.

Nothing.

What more did Lemon desire than the pain of the Garden? Destruction was a hobby for warlords, but a passion to those who ended lives in scant quantity, yet made living a misery far worse than any lengthy demise. What madman with a passion for destruction would pass up the offer for close balcony seats to the play production of Utopia's finale with a world submerged in a sea of flame? No one.

Tabris smiled--this time genuine, with no trace of forcefulness, falsity, or sarcasm. The End of the World would not have been the same without Lemon, and the Albino truly felt that way. Coincidentally, that was the extent of strong feeling he had experienced in potentially an entire lifetime.

"I'm glad."

From his pocket, Tabris withdrew a small, folded up slip of paper. His means were archaic compared to what Lemon could do--literally implant directions into another being's mind, but not only did Tabris lack such an ability, it was simply his preference. With a casual step, he approached his former "master," holding the folded up, somewhat thick cartography paper to Lemon.

"The End will be a convergence upon one point, and if instinct still serves me well, there is still but a week until the show," said the Albino, providing Lemon all the information he'd need, "And this should be all you'll need to find it."

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 Post subject: Re: An Invitation to the End
PostPosted: Tue Oct 14, 2008 10:35 pm 
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Lemon regarded the package before taking and opening it in one fluid snap. Dangling the map by one corner, pinched lightly between his index finger and thumb, he witnessed and memorized the location of the grande finale.

"Hmph. Gimme an hour, kid."

With that, Lemon evaporated into the wind, bound for what he was hoping a sight worthy of sacrificing his beloved Garden for.

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 Post subject: Re: An Invitation to the End
PostPosted: Tue Oct 14, 2008 10:45 pm 
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An Invitation to the End.//Fin.

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