Post by libbycakes on Jul 11, 2011 16:24:45 GMT
to hell and back, my dear. .
If I told you, anyone gave a damn, would you believe me? Of course not. No ones does, least of all Raziel. He sees nothing in this world that has been corrupted of morals and lacking of any true beauty. Even the love for the gods has been diminished leaving behind only some christian god who's existence is often questioned. He lacks inside hope, which is the only foundation for anything in this world. He looks at the creatures around him with naught for they hold no true purpose. Just struggling to survive in a world not worth living within. This is Raziel, and he's new in town and guess what? He doesn't give a damn. --
The male easy combined through the crowds at the park entrance, twilight was swiftly approaching and small bouts of families had begun their escape from the forestry surroundings like herding of cattle. Dark menacing brown orbs flickered among them with a hint of disdain, there was so much more they could do with their lives. For one worship gods that actually gave a damn about them and maybe, just maybe embrace the greatness of the magic this world offered them. The wiccan, however, gently shook his head well aware that many who not be capable of harnessing the powers of witchcraft, much less an ancient form. --
Raziel's pale fingertips gently strummed the side of his jean pocket. He wasn't exactly sure why he'd bothered to go dragging his feet through this park, but it at the time had seemed like a wonderful idea, and Raziel never passed up wonderful ideas. So, there he was, in a long black trench coat, and a white button up fluffed under it and dark blue jeans that hung a tad lose on his firmly shaped thighs. His hair happened to be in it's normal array of messery. The thick chocolate strands strewn in a wild heave as if he had crawled out of bed and not even dared to lift a strand. --
Boots sounded along the pavement, as the Wiccan paced himself further into the depths. Those taunting brown orbs floating among the dark space between each cement pathway. Why, oh, why, had he decided to poke around here?
The male easy combined through the crowds at the park entrance, twilight was swiftly approaching and small bouts of families had begun their escape from the forestry surroundings like herding of cattle. Dark menacing brown orbs flickered among them with a hint of disdain, there was so much more they could do with their lives. For one worship gods that actually gave a damn about them and maybe, just maybe embrace the greatness of the magic this world offered them. The wiccan, however, gently shook his head well aware that many who not be capable of harnessing the powers of witchcraft, much less an ancient form. --
Raziel's pale fingertips gently strummed the side of his jean pocket. He wasn't exactly sure why he'd bothered to go dragging his feet through this park, but it at the time had seemed like a wonderful idea, and Raziel never passed up wonderful ideas. So, there he was, in a long black trench coat, and a white button up fluffed under it and dark blue jeans that hung a tad lose on his firmly shaped thighs. His hair happened to be in it's normal array of messery. The thick chocolate strands strewn in a wild heave as if he had crawled out of bed and not even dared to lift a strand. --
Boots sounded along the pavement, as the Wiccan paced himself further into the depths. Those taunting brown orbs floating among the dark space between each cement pathway. Why, oh, why, had he decided to poke around here?