I hope you'll enjoy the small stories, quotes, and other resources of inspiring material I'll be posting. If you find a text the source haven't been mentioned, please let me know. I'd hate to see my own stuff on another web site without any credit.
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Mirror To Beauty: Everywhere I look, it's you I see.
Beyond The Rainbow: One day a child grows up, and filled with deceitful hopes, glances beyond the Rainbow.
Larmes Givrées: Poem in French about snow, death, and philosophy.
Fall, Puny Snowflake: Fall, fall... oblivious of your destination.
Untitled Love: There's no words strong enough to define love.
Elian The Mercenary: A short text I wrote as a background-story for a character I role-play in the game 'Illarion'.
Blind: Incomplete lyrics to a song.
Blessed Shadows: An incomplete medieval themed story.
Forgotten Elegy: They never cease to pester.
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If like a mourning rose,
Your eyes shut on me;
May the rythm in my heart,
That sings for you,
Silence forever.
If the rustles of my soul,
Murder the smile you force on me,
May I turn deaf, mute and blind:
They cannot clutter my thoughts.
Some want fortune, glory or friendship.
Worship gods, ideas or religions.
All my soul desires is to shape its frame,
On your ecsquisite self, your sleeping silhouette
The trees imitate your arms,
The sky reflects your eyes,
The wind whispers your voice,
My eyes see nothing but you.
You are my lullaby, ruler of my dreams.
They unveil stories yet to come,
Only can I hope, premonitions.
You are the air I breathe,
The water I drink,
The flame that melts my frigid heart.
Each sunrise brings me a new hope,
That one day, I'll shatter the distance.
I claimed myself to be immunte to love,
Yet you shattered my pride.
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When atoms form together
We speak of birth
A little child, an angel of the skies
A gullible mind, filled with lies
Host of a frail mentality
Shielded from Reality
We show him the Rainbow
Joy, happiness, and watch him grow
From his delicate sight, we ban all grime
Oblivious of Life, he skips through time
Until he matures.
A large demon, fallen from youth
A wise mind, filled with truth
Host of a rigid mentality
The shield has shattered, unveiling Reality
We help him on the rainbow, curious of beyond
Hatred, despair, and watch him fall, conned
A splatter of black clutters his sight
Too late to step back, he realizes, with fright
When atoms separate
We speak of death
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Larmes frigides tombent des cieux,
Vous éveillez des espoirs intrus;
La beauté blanche envahit,
Suffoquant les sombres secrets,
Qui reposent sur ces rues,
Hantées de pureté;
Le Grand s’élève, fléchissant ses rayons carmins,
Tu résistes et persistes, un sourire se dessine,
Sur mes lèvres endormies;
Ton froid me caresse et ta douceur j’apprécie,
Merci manteau blanc, tes draps me réchauffent;
Et si seulement, une âme perdue,
Dans ses vagues troublées,
Par un certain inconnu,
Partage mes pensées,
Et supporte ma folie,
Qui peut-être passagère,
Mais vivante dans mon coeur,
Jusqu’au jour où;
Mon âme me quittera,
Mes pensées s’éteindront,
Et seul de moi vivra,
Mon nom gravé dans les pages,
Les pages de l’Histoire;
Les pages de l’Histoire, tombeau des grands,
Dont les paroles, contestent la brillance du soleil,
Réscucitées par l’écho de mes pleurs;
Comme j’aurai voulu vous connaitre,
Vous qui partagez les délires de mon imagination
Votre plume s’est séchée,
Mais l’encre persiste.
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Fall, puny snowflake
Crystal clear, but not quite.
Minds of children, filled with spite.
Spite that shields them from the Reality,
Of a decaying corpse, on whom a snowflake
Has landed, to perish.
Fall, snowflake. Puny snowflake.
You form in the skies,
To dance your way to paradise.
And illusive promise, a fake.
You pleasure gently, wayward to the ground,
Yet to your melting, and suffering, you are bound.
Too far to see, soon too close to forget,
That the Earth awaits you.
My verses, are filled with distress,
Yet as great minds, with their words, caress,
The most futile of thoughts,
Only to bring them to distraught:
And there is naught but a single Second in a human’s life,
That has the quest to announce a good news;
The good news,
Which causes to each of us, an unexplainable fear.
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Untitled Love
Your whisper echoes,
Muscling in my soul,
Engulfing my heart,
It rushes to heaven.
The Heaven, whose secrets are uttered,
By these exquisite eyes;
Whoever claimed paradise isn’t on Earth,
Hasn’t aired a glimpse at you.
My delirious mind hovered across the ocean of my imagination,
Witnessing marvels of all devoid universes, figments of my subconscious;
And all these beauties, have yet to near on, with a futile attempt,
To equal your splendor;
In my spirit, the new skylines you’ve delineated,
Assort the golden floods of your divine,
From the corrupted beats of my bosom,
If only, if only... words were enough...
If only, my soul could word,
The sensations you weave within,
If only, the rhythm that sings,
To each of your sights,
Would cease;
Then the sole desire, of my expiring breath;
To embrace you in my arms;
And let the three words, rustle in your ear,
Uselessly, they betray my feelings;
And until my last smile,
Admiring the windows to your soul,
Maybe shall I pass away,
With a fulfilled heart.
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He stands on the edge of the cliff, looking down thoughtfully to the battle field, flooded with corpses of countless dead warriors. Flashing images stalk his mind, bringing both eyes to a tight close, banning the flow of tears.
…
Born in the month of Adras, in a small modest village of Salkamar, this is the story of Elian the Mercenary.
…
As she was giving him birth, his mother, Irasia the maid, could not cope with the excruciating pain and suffering engendered by the poor conditions servants were forced to birthing in.
She was a mere maid, serving nobility for a lump of bread daily. The income she and her husband brought in was just enough to pay their house’s rent, and assure a minimal nutrition for both of them. Yet, they could not afford the services of a medico, nor a druid for a proper deliver.
“Perhaps it was better off that way…” would consider the lad, at times, when thinking onto his past.
Indeed, the little silver his parents earned was doubtfully enough to feed a third mouth.
As she lost her breath slowly, her soul eluding from her heart, she took a last gaze to her newborn son, who, seemingly, could sense the passing away of the being that carried him for nine months, and finally sacrificed her life to assure his. Her blank, weary regard mingled into his as she uttered… “Elian…” And so, he was named. Elian. The father, slowly pulling the baby out of his dead wife’s corpse, allowed a single tear to trickle its way down his cheek.
Tonight, a crying baby’s squall can be heard, shattering the peaceful silence of the benighted streets.
… The sun slowly rose, peeking across the horizon as its rays flooded the land with a warm, crimson blood.
Young Elian woke up from his dreamy slumber, taking a deep, yearning breath as his eyes fell upon the glimmering set of armour to the side of his bed, where also, a short, corroded sword leaned. Quite a bad blade, but the –now nine years old- chap didn't care about that. All he cared about was that today, like every day since his eighth birthday, his father, Dorin, would take him in the forest to train the ways to swing a blade.
Dorin, a down-low blade-for-hire, henchmen to whoever paid the most, was not the same man when his son was about.
Unfortunately, his foes did not perceive that. Blessed by his gods, is the mercenary who lives a lifelong without forging himself many enemies.
They strolled in the forest with a slow gait, the two frames pacing onto the stepping-worn path, where merchants, citizens, and bandits alike traverse.
But they would get farther, somewhere away from regards. Or they thought. A small cliff, from where would chute a glistering waterfall.
They both made their way to an open field, the lad looking up to his father, his chestnut eyes sparkling proudly at the sight of his armoured dad.
“Draw your sword, boy…” ordered the man, looking down to his breed with a blank gaze, free of emotions. Free of emotions, yet deep inside, he was proud. Proud to know there will be someone to carry on the name of his family. Proud, but worried.
A mercenary can always tell when he has more foemen than allies. He can smell death haunting him, at every step. Watching every move menacingly, every lie mockingly. He knew.
Elian was quick to unsheathe the sword out of his ‘imaginary’ scabbard, holding the hilt bluntly, letting the edge loiter onto the ground, to much of his father’s deception. A simple frown was enough to get the message across.
The lad raised the light blade above his chest, taking a defensive stance.
Dorin nodded granting, lowering to reach for a long wooden stick. Elian shrugged a little, as a grumble escaped his breath. Never, ever, would his father raise a blade to his son. Never, to the extent of Elian’s botheration. Youth, and their imaginary invincibility…
The father stood the stick vertically in front of him, both hands resting on its edge. Elian held the blade firmly, approaching slowly; his gaze locked to the staff, and swung, with all his might, the weapon onto the stick, barely moving it out of place. The father crouched hurriedly, sliding the rod under the boy’s feet, making him stumble to the ground.
”Ugh…” croaked Elian as he was quick to press off to a stand, as his father taught him. He grabbed the blade and literally jumped onto his father, pinning the un-alerted man to the ground, and bashed his sword onto the back of his father’s armor. Once, twice, yet the butter knife could never pierce through such a plate.
Suddenly, all notion of reality faded from Elian’s mind, as his spirit began muscling its way out of his back, both eyes opened widely, he gasped. Attempting to holler, but the agonizing anguish interdicted him to. Blood splattered onto the grass, in front of the horrified father. Quickly pressing his son to a lean onto the ground, his blank, baffled regard surveyed his surroundings, when an arrow struck his left should.
”Gaarhh!” He heaved, pulling it out with much agony, blood spilling into the air.
Another arrow made its way by his side, landing on the ground next to his right foot. His eyes widened, as his regard fell upon an archer, into a tree, with an arrow corked, aimed to Elian. He jumped, not realizing the danger to his life, to cover the bleeding boy’s frame. An arrow, an other, and a third, erupting into the useless plate, fiercely tearing the flesh open.
After a minute of silence, Elian, still panting for air, raised his regard. Blood dripped onto his head, spoiling his brownish hair’s texture. Attempting to press himself up, but in vain, he sighed, still not knowing what had happened.
…
“To Elian’s first journey!” Yelled a man, armoured in heavy leather, a mug of ale grabbed in his hand, smiling perkily.
“To Elian!” “Yeah! To Elian!” Followed a group of individuals, all set on the same table, raising their booze above the lad’s head.
He grinned, standing at his all-mighty six feet three. He was a real man now, he was sixteen. The group of mercenaries, men who would fight along with his father, were there, celebrating his first charge.
“Alright, boys. To business.” Quieted a large, bulky man, to the rest of the feasting belligerents. Elian listened closely, not wanting to miss a single detail. Gods, his first mission ever. Today, today he would become a real mercenary!
“The relic is in the prince’s room. We break in, take the chalice and walk out. There’ll be no guards, nothing to worry about.” Reassured the man, as they all nodded, placing their blades with a clashing clang onto each others for a moment, before sheathing them down their scabbards, and heading outside.
…
Elian breathed heavily, his back brooched to a wall in a shadowy alley. His diverted regard locked onto the dim-lit street. After a few moments, a group of Imperial knights made their way onto the path, the commander ordering his men to search at various location. Then, he pointed his finger towards the alley Elian hid in. Two authorities fighters slowly made their way there. His eyes widened, breathing accelerated, as his hand slid to the hilt of his sheathed sword…
…
“Aronil!” Shouted Elian towards another of the captured men the Imperial Guards had caught. The commander, holding the lad, narrowed his eyes, as he pointed to ‘Aronil’, and gazed at Elian with a serious tone. “You know that mercenary, boy?!”
“Yes I.. He’s one of th –“ attempted Elian, though the man quickly interrupted him.
“No! He doesn’t. That boy is crazy, we’ve seen him running around town, calling people names they never heard of.” Explained the captured mercenary, before the commander smirked and released the chap. Elian, a confused regard falling onto his eyes, simply obeyed the officer and stepped away slowly…
It is only after, when the hanged corpses of his fellow mercenaries were publicly displayed on the gallows, that he understood what this man had done for him. It is only then, he knew what mercenaries were brothers for.
…
He sighed, taking a last, regretful gaze towards the heavily guarded streets of his, once ‘hometown’, before shaking his head a little, heading to the harbor.
…
The embark shored onto the beaches of the large isle, Gobaith. He stepped out, sliding whatever coins he still had into the captain’s palm, before slowly straying away, leather bag strapped to his shoulders.
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Blind
Can't you see it?
All the lies escaping from my gaze.
Breaths of prevarication, in my words.Merely open your eyes, can't you see? (Can't you see?)
I wish you could, just understand..When guilt shatters in, all the clutter evanesces
I'm killing you slowly.. dragging your life away..
And you still trust me.. Don't.
Turn away, without looking back.I never meant to hurt you, never meant to make you squall..
Never wanted to hear you cry, I closed my eyes..
But I could still hear you..Please, don't be, so forgiving..
I'll do it again, I know that I can't..
But I don't want to..I don't.. I don't want to see you die..
I'm the witness of your soul, eluding from your heart.. (From your heart..)When guilt shatters in, all the clutter evanesces
I'm killing you slowly.. dragging your life away..
And you still trust me.. Don't.
Turn away, without looking back.I perverted your innocence,
I victimized your purity..
And you still love me.
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She stood by the edge of the river, gaze locked down to the flickering reflection of the stars on the surface of the water. Her thoughts roamed away, brooding across the ocean of her past. Why would her gods grant so much power to someone like her? She never thought of herself as a very responsible being… So many questions unrequited… How could she know herself so little?
Her regard wandered towards the beaming lights taciturnly, a heedful emotion in her eyes… when suddenly… a crack reached her attentive ear, as her head tilted to the side, bringing her eyes to a shut, switching the concentration of her sight to her hearing. Another snap went, branches breaking under a heavy foot. A loitering fox? A slithering snake stalking the scent of its pray? A clumsy thief…
She halted her breath – too loud-, as a short, scraggy and darkly draped silhouette trod out of the shades.
“I hope you value your life more than your purse, lass.” Whispered the villain menacingly, sounding a slewing blade out of its metal scabbard. The edge of the dagger hovering to the individual’s shank, as the moon’s bright beams excogitated onto the smooth steel.
She smiled. Still not facing the scoundrel threatening her, and the smile was quick to recede. Abruptly, a frown adorned her brows, as faces of the lives she had purloined haunted her mentations. She hadn’t offed a spirit in decades; this time would be no dissimilar.
The dark bod took a step forward, still holding the dagger to his waist. She remained silent, void of reaction both physically and verbally.
“You must be tired of being…” Uttered the impatient goon, swirling the hilt of his weapon along his sleek, thin fingers. She couldn’t agree more. A sigh eluded her lips, and after moments, she turned around slowly, her hand raised to her side, digits saltating around a quivering flame she had weaved in her hands. The inferno she had learnt to control over time, cast a dim light onto her face, revealing her sleek features. Brown, falling hair stood above her two dark eyes. The smile reappeared onto her lips, as the horrified assaulter, who was unlucky enough to fall on a mage, widened his eyes with fear, stepping back slowly as he let the sticker fall to the ground.
With a swift and accurate pitch, she sent the fire ball to land onto the ground behind him, imprisoning him between flaring walls.
Driblets of sweat trickled their way down the, now trapped bandit’s forehead. He scanned his surroundings nervously, considering every possibility to escape, but he found none.
She bordered on tardily, constricting her eyelids to study the individual before her, who was at her absolute mercy. She brought both hands together, as if holding an ‘invisible’ boulder and strong winds began darting into her palms, tiny debris floating between her controls. She canted the winds with strength towards the being, coercing the concealed face to be divulged, as she readied another flame ball, preparing to offer her aggressor a fine, long lasting cicatrice…
She took a lengthy survey of her surroundings, the obsessing apparitions never bequeathing her mind. The cool breeze blustering through her hair, yet the elemental surge that was tripping the light fantastic toe in the palm of her mitt was insensible to the potent wind. She brought it behind her shoulder, readying a swing, as she threw it towards her hunter’s, who became her prey, face. Her gaze espoused the dart as it festinated towards its aim, second by second revealing more of his features. The young boy’s eyes broadening with affright. Boy..?
“Stop!” She yelled, pushing both hands into the void, in front of her, curtailing the fireball inches before the nearly-fainted lad. She approached him hurriedly, clasping her gloved paw over the floating crimson globe, dethawing it into thin air.
Her eyes constricted, as to analyze the lad’s features in details. She remained silent, an aspect of astonishment onto her face. The chap, who still had both arms covering his sweaty, terrified face, shivered dangerously, feeling not the heat of the ablaze orb which was now nonexistent, but the pressure of her, once a victim, presence.
She slowly reached to take a hold of one of his arms, pressing it to his side as she crouched to his eye-level. Bringing the other one down too, she slid her index under his chin, slowly circumvolving his regard towards her.
Blue, azurite eyes bedecked the hat of his petite nose. Dirty blond hair falling over his forehead. His nearly snow-white skin begrimed with dirt and mud. She took a step backwards, standing to her full six feet, again, looking down to the apparently innocent being in front of her. Her gaze loitering particularly on that cicatrice, that scratched the side of his right eye. She narrowed her regard, crossing both arms under her chest.
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Forgotten Elegy
Why, lowered. Earth to sky.
I seat, they fall. Tree loses its leaves.
Carmine rays, flood the darkness.
He arises. Arises to new horizons,
Spreading unwanted hope,
Forgotten memories. My forgotten elegy.
I try, betray. My efforts futile.
Unknown, unveiling his god.
He lives, oblivious of life.
I gaze, pupils twinkles.
Smile.
Steel slews, it dives.
Blood trickles down his fingers,
Agony. A soundless scream bursts.
Down my belt, I walk away.
Silhouette quietuses, dreams? No.
Flowing hair, to the side. The eyes.
Piercing, throb. They torment me.
Harass. Keep, they come at night.
When my eyes, I close, to remember the day.
The day, my elegy shall be sung.
Across the gravestones,
Where bones reside. I shall stand.
Join the dust, I crumble, they plague.