F11 for full view | all browsers except IE | 1300px or widerWine Red by The Hush Sound
Who shot that arrow in your throat?
Who missed the crimson apple?
It hung heavy on the tree above your head
This chaos, this calamity, this garden once was perfect
Give your immortality to me; I'll set you up against the stars
There is discord in the garden tonight
I cut the arrow from your neck
Stretched you beneath the tree
Among the roots and baby's breath
I covered us with silver leaves
The sea is wine red
This is the death of beauty
The jungle was unnaturally still. The old anaconda had never seen anything like it in his many decades. Something is about to happen, I'd bet my tail on it, he hissed softly to himself. Why else would the trees, which normally swayed and danced with the warm whimsical night breeze, be so deathly quiet, as though they were holding their breath? Why else would all the creatures of the forest be so silent, as though in dread of something to come? The aged anaconda began working his way up into the canopy, twisting around trunks and vines. As he ascended, he noticed other animals climbing as well, trying to see what was coming. They feel it too, he thought.
A large orangutan on a nearby tree noticed the anaconda. So you're still alive, you old snake, he said, swinging easily to the branch where the anaconda was coiled. The two had been both friends and enemies to one another in equal measure in their long lifetimes. What do you think it is? the primate mused.
I couldn't say, the serpent admitted. We'll just have to wait and see, I suppose. In this we're as blind as the hatchlings.
The orangutan looked down at the anaconda in amusement and opened his mouth to speak. He was interrupted by a sudden sigh that rustled through the trees. All the animals strained forward, trying to catch a glimpse.
Can't see a thing, the orangutan murmured.
Imagine how I feel, the snake said at the orangutan's feet.
Someone cried, There! and immediately heads were craned once more, searching for the thing, whatever it was.
An instant before the sky flared up, the anaconda thought he saw a black piece of the sky fall. But it was only for a fraction of a second, and the movement was so subtle that he wasn't sure what he'd seen. The bright light that followed burned fiercely in the sky, streaking through the cobalt backdrop for a long moment before disappearing into the darkness at the horizon. The quiet that stretched out after the light winked out was long, and empty. Then the spell was broken, and slowly the animals dispersed back into the jungle, either singly or in groups. The orangutan carefully lifted the anaconda and placed him around his shoulders while making his way down.
Can't believe all that fuss was about a shooting star! a macaque squawked, disgruntled at being woken in the middle of the night. The orangutan and the anaconda glanced at each other.
You know, I don't believe that was just a regular shooting star, the orangutan said casually.
No, I don't think so either, the anaconda agreed. But what would we know of such things? We're old now, and the world moves too quickly for us.
Speak for yourself, serpent, the orangutan said amiably. He glanced up at the sky once more thoughtfully. It almost feels like a different world now, doesn't it? A little colder and harsher than it was before. The two sat in silence for a few moments, then he chuckled. Listen to me go on! You're right, we have become old.
May the world forever belong to the young, the anaconda murmured, and without further comment the two parted, perhaps never to see each other again. Such is the way of the world.
"How you have fallen from heaven, O star of the morning, son of the dawn! You have been cut down to the earth, you who have weakened the nations!"
Living creatures are defined by their connections. At the most fundamental level, those connections are represented in the physical form—the individual atoms and molecules which come together to create the whole. But when an organism is able to connect with its world, that one "spark" at the center of its being becomes something much greater than itself alone.
In the physical realm, it is typical for a single being to have billions upon billions of connections. Many of those bonds are within itself, but a small percentage tie to other entities. The predator to prey. The individual to the group. The mother to child. This is the premise and law upon which their world was created.
It is not surprising, then, that angels are much the same. In our most basic structure, we are no different then creatures of the physical realm: a framework of particles, with powerful and lasting connections between them.
The difference lies in the particles. We are not merely a collection of silent particles, but a network of sentient sparks. That is our true shape. Nothing more, nothing less.
Our only duty is to the truth. If our actions seem cruel or insensitive, it is only because we see things that no other being can. The past, the present, and the future; the futures that never will come to fruition, whether by our mistakes or those of others. A pure angel is the most perfect, beautiful entity that can exist, and, yet, an angel is only pure when he does not yet exist.
But once in a while, under extraordinary circumstances, an angel will fall.
"When you look long into an abyss, the abyss also looks into you."
My own fall was an accident. I would have never conspired against my fellow angels or our creator. For all my flaws, I have always been honorable. But that does not mean that I was not responsible for what happened, or that it was not my fault. Whatever my intentions, an angel died at my hands.
I have been trying to understand the reason for my fall for many years now. But as time goes on, it becomes more difficult to see the truth, in this world of cloudy and surreal half-truths. However, one thing has become clear to me: this was not an ordinary connection. You see, we angels have friends and enemies just as mortals do. Those we connect well with, and those we don't. Our relationships are essentially based on how well our networks mesh. Two angels whose structures make many connections will get along well, while those with little in common will not. A simple enough concept, and not so unlike that of the physical realm.
This was different. There was no order, no logic to it. I simply felt a spark in my presence, a spark that resonated within my own, and reached for it. When I reached for the spark, I unknowingly tore it from the central place it held in its framework. Millions of bonds broken in an instant, and an angel was destroyed.
Still I was blind to this, only able to behold the spark. Without thinking, I drew it forth...into the physical realm.
The border between the physical world and the world of angels is an odd thing. It is very thin, but strong; normally one is never able to cross it. To this day, I do not understand how I created a living being that day. Angels may be able to see the true shapes of things, but still, we are not all-knowing.
The act of creation changed me. I was something both greater and lesser than an angel. No longer pure, but not quite a god either. I could not exist in the space which only angels occupy, and so I fell to earth.
"What though that light, thro' storm and night,
So trembled from afar-
What could there be more purely bright
In Truth's day-star?"
—"Dream" by Edgar Allen Poe
My first impression of earth was that it was so very heavy. I had just barely come to register earthly sensation, and I felt weighed down, as though I could feel every molecule and atom of air and space above me. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant feeling, though, as I slowly adjusted to it. It was pressure, of course, but there was also a certain sense of connection to the world. An alien feeling.
At this point the world still appeared to me as the skeletal structure of connections between entities. Pale, shimmering and constantly moving within their own systems; I still had the sight of an angel. I couldn't say how long I stayed there, just watching the earth move.
After some time, I noted something coming towards me. It had greater complexity than the surroundings; its network was smaller, yes, but the connections were far more dense and I could see various parts shift in tandem as it approached. To observe the world at large was fascinating, but to see one single living thing was in its own way amazing.
If I were younger, I might assume that I were seeing things, a disembodied voice said slowly. Just a trick of the light, or the product of an aged mind. The network stood over me, ever-shifting even as it stood still. But I am young no longer, and I have lived far too long to think of anything as coincidence. I watched the connections reach for me, and then felt them go through and pull me. I felt my connections snap together, as though they hadn't quite been connected before, and suddenly, the world appeared quite differently.
Before, the world was a vision of neat lines, points, systems. Now it was a mosaic of color and sound and light and shadow bleeding into one another, so brilliant and unclear that it was painful to look at. Underneath it all, I could just barely still see the pale shifting patterns.
Thought so, the voice said, and this time I was able to detect a note of satisfaction. Now you're properly part of the world, if you know what I mean. I looked at the creature. He was a blotch of color, a vibrant hue contrasting against the backdrop. I tried to remember what he had looked like before, the shape of him. Without thinking, I felt myself shift into a physical form much like his. My sight sharpened and cleared, and the world changed once more. Now it was truly solid and real and I could see the minute details of each and every thing.
Ho! the creature called out with surprised delight, walking around me with extreme interest. Would you look at that! You are a shapeshifter, it seems. My father's father told me of them. He said they were creatures of the Old World. I never thought I would see one--they are said to fall once every ten thousand years.
"Life is an unfoldment, and the further we travel the more truth we can comprehend. To understand the things that are at our door is the best preparation for understanding those that lie beyond."
—Hypatia of Alexandria
to be continued~
Entity: Fallen angel
Animal species: Tiger
Eyes: Light blue
Height: 6' 2"
Devicloud is a very young fallen angel, the first in many centuries. Because he is relatively new to the physical realm, he is still rather detached from it. He has a physical form, but he still sees the world in versatile, abstract shapes indicating the connections between objects rather than the purely visual feedback that mortal beings have. It's not that he cannot see surface features such as appearance; he simply doesn't have enough experience to notice them. However, the longer he spends in the physical world the more aware he will become of such things...eventually.
Devi feels extremely responsible for his actions; above all, he is extremely devoted to truth and duty. So it is in large part due to this that he feels a moral obligation to seek out the spark that he created and take it under his wing. But a smaller, deeper part of him simply wants to find the spark that caused his downfall, even now wishing to be together at any cost.
As Devicloud spends more time in the physical realm, a pattern of twisting markings spreads across his mortal body.
While people typically regard Devicloud as male due to his personality, he is androgynous by nature.
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Kerry, this is brilliant, much as your face.
to be written lol
Coding, art and writing by Solo; please do not use without permission.
Layout design inspired by Nikki
"A Theme for Murder" font by Christopher Hansen
"Throrian Commonface" font by Bill Roach
Watercolor texture by Enchantedgal-Stock on dA