Pain. That is all that I feel. All that I know. When the night is dark and silent, they whisper to me. The Ghosts of my past. Of my darkness. Of things I have done that I am not proud. In them, I see myself. In their echoing voices, I hear my own silent screams. In their writhing, tortured bodies, their dark shattered souls, I see bits and pieces of who I used to be. Who I fear that I will one day become again. It is hard, being unable to explain any of this to those that I love. To let someone in that deep to see the scars that are not able to be seen with the eyes. Or felt with a touch of a hand. For this is not something measured in time, distance, or with the senses. Only felt. Only experienced through the course of ones path. A path, that was not chosen for me.

So, when the night is silent, and I am alone....it is hard to shut them out. I no longer fight them, but let them come. They are a part of me, my past; and I am a part of them and always will be. Why is it so hard to accept this? All my anger, rage and hate? For the past, for what I was forced to become? Why do I hide it and let it torment me in other ways? The Beast, I now know is but a shade of all that passionate darkness within me. Though I now 'master' control over it, how long before it takes back over? How long before the 'leash' snaps and I sink back into that darkness? How do I stop it? Why can I admit my faults in the dark of night, but when daylight comes, I hide them again? What is it I am running from? Am I afraid of? Truly? Who is there, to help me on my path?

A monster knows no love...as the great poets say, and yet I can tell you from the bottom of my heart, that that is NOT true! I LOVE! I FEEL~ I YEARN~ Am I so monstrous that I will be forever denied such a thing? I hope not! I know that isn't true! For I AM loved....

But still, ghosts are hard to ignore when they visit in the night, and you can do nothing but let them come.....and....remember......

She was a beauty who never wanted the prince... she always wanted the beast.

- N. R. Hart

YES! THIS....RIGHT HERE!!!

Keep all your 'knights in shining armor' BS! Give me a Viking! A man not afraid to get dirty, whether in work or in love. Who is wild, passionate, and fiercely protective and loyal.Who is not afraid to fight for what/whom they love, for what they desire. I don't want 'clean armor', or a white horse....I want a Vampire in the darkness, a Viking in bloody chain mail, a Werewolf under the full moon!! I want the odd, the different, the unusual and the strange!!! Embrace your differences, for they are what make you BEAUTIFUL!!!

 ~"Reluctance to murder is NOT a weakness" ~

"I've been saying THAT for years." Becca mused with a smirk.

Allya and Telekenesis

 // So while rereading older then dirt solos I had written out, I had forgotten that Allya was an 'unaware' psychokinetic or telekinetic. Meaning, in a old rp solo I had written, she had had a horrible nightmare about fire, and somehow, her curtains suddenly caught fire in her room and she awoke to it and had to have help putting it out. And once, when Rheagal made her mad and she yelled at him, something behind him that was glass, shattered rather forcefully.

She is unaware because it happens so random, and she hasn't had any training in it,  but it could help explain a few things about her. Why she can 'talk' to and be understood by animals, how she can hear Daemon so easily (Though she firmly believes it is solely because of how close they are and she can not hear any other humans.) and why somethings happen around her that at times, she just can't explain. Things moving or disappearing entirely, things breaking when she's angry, stuff like that.

thought that would be something cool to explore down the line in more detail.

 // SOLO...because I can't sleep...had a rough day and found good music that inspired this....

It was so bright! The light stung her eyes making it harder to see. The sounds were damn near deafening as artists from all over had gathered to celebrate. There were so many sounds, smells, sights to behold that she didn't know where to look first as she was led out into the bright sunlight from behind a curtain where she had been instructed to wait. She wasn't really sure what was going on, but all around her was chaos. All was delight and merrymaking as well as sounds of a tourney coming from two places over, the people's cheers able to be heard even at that distance.

Suddenly, she was moving. Walking, head held high down a small pathway through the chaos. She had no moment to wonder about what was happening or where she was going, just that she had to reach the peak of the path without making a misstep. Why and how she knew this, she had no idea. But she could feel the tension wash away from her the more she walked. Feel her body slowly begin to relax the further down the path she got. People were cheering, throwing flowers at her feet, all around her people bestowed blessings...and she had no earthly idea why. The dress she wore was nicely made. To nice for something that she would own herself or ever be able to afford. It was dark red, inlaid with sapphires and emeralds along the hemline and the sleeves. Her hair done up fashionably in a style, she had never worn before either. Why?

As she drew closer to the end of the path, she saw before her a chair, empty. No, not a chair, a throne! Beside it sat Morgul, huge and monstrous in his size as he now was full height for his species. When had THAT happened!? She looked around her slowly, feeling her heartbeat picking back up. This had to be a mistake! She didn't belong on any throne. Didn't want it! But she found herself as if pulled towards it, and upon reaching it, found herself turning to face the crowd as if nothing she did was her own choice. the harder she fought against such things, the more the power forcing her to move made her do so. it actually hurt, to struggle against it and soon she found herself sitting upon that throne, Morgul roaring at her side as his wings spread, demanding in a way for everyone to pay reverence to her and the crowd did as bid. All cheered, all praised her name...but...something wasn't right. This was so wrong. This wasn't what she aspired too. What was happening!!

She watched as a Maester came closer with a smaller crown and she visibly shook her head, but even that small movement hurt. No! No! No! Not her! This wasn't right! She wasn't a ruler! She didn't rule...not alone! It wasn't her birthright! Closer and closer that crown got, and she struggled to speak, to say SOMETHING, but nothing escaped her. Why was she here? Why was she here alone? Daemon! Where was Daemon? Where was someone to STOP this from happening! She didn't want it! Not at the expense of those she loved. Not for any reason. No! Please...STOP!!!

Sitting up with a hoarse cry of "STOP!' upon her lips, the thunder crashed as lighting flashed around the castle of Driftmark. Gasps echoed from her lips as she realized, to her relief that it was solely a dream. Only a dream. Pulling the blankets more firmly around her, she settled back in bed, trying to calm her heartbeat. What could that dream have meant? Why would she have it at all? She was safe though. Still on Driftmark, her wounds all but healed. Morgul safe and growing bigger every day. Daemon safe as well, for she could sense him still. That little light flickering within her mind as she focused on him. Thank the Gods all was well. But...why the dream? She had no such intentions. No desires for it either. Curling back up on her side, she sighed deeply and staring at the fire, tried to lull herself back to sleep. Listening to the storm as it howled outside her window.

 Armand had finally ceased his tears, sniffing as he held onto Marius for dear life. He refused to believe the words that Aemond had so callously thrown at him, with his disgusting 'gift' as proof. It wasn't true! Laenor was still alive...he would know if it were otherwise, right?

That thought brought him pause as he pulled slowly back from Maruis and wiped his eyes. "Allya...." He uttered her name like a prayer. A hope. His eyes glazed a bit in thought before he cast his eyes to the man at his side once more and then he turned and dashed back the way he had come, towards home! Allya would know! For sure, he was certain! That was all he could think about. All he could hope for. Allya would know!

The second he reached home, he burst through the door and went to his sister's side, taking hold of her arms tightly as he all but gasped out what it was he wanted from her. "Allya! You would know if something had happened to Laenor, wouldn't you?" He questioned with such feveor. "With your...gift?"

Allya looked startled as she turned to look at her younger brother as he grabbed her and blinked in surprise. "Whatever do you mean, Armand?" She asked softly, calmly. "I can't do human, you know this. I can't hear their thoughts."

"You do Daemon! You hear HIS thoughts" He shot back at her in earnest.

"That is DIFFERENT!" She said, with a slight warning tone to her voice as his grip had become quite strong. "You know it. Now let go." She said and sighed as Armand released her and backed away, looking all the more sad. "Look...Armand, I think Aemond was just being mean to you." She said gently as she held out her hand to show her brother what she held within, what she had found. The severed finger Aemond had thrown at Armand and jested that his lover was dead. "Scent it, Brother....it does not smell like anyone we know..." She said gently.

Taking the finger with a grimace, Armand allowed the scent to waft through his nose and over his tongue. It was not Laenor's, for which he was most thankful and nearly cried again, till he realized what had actually happened. He turned and cast the appendage into the fire with a soft snarl. "That----that---!" He couldn't think of any words good enough to call him! He had played with his emotions, had riled him, it was a horrible thing to do, even if it had been a joke. He felt anger rise up in him again, but he attempted to squash it. Laenor was alive, it wasn't him....that was all that mattered....but his wolf had very nearly been called without his permission. He felt ashamed for reacting in such a way. He was better than that...