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Alabaster Psychosis: Chapter One

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Re: Alabaster Psychosis: Chapter One




Title: Alabaster Psychosis
Pairing: None.
Genra: Sci-Fi/Fantasy-ish?
Warnings: Bizarre. I really, really mean it.
Word count: 1,110
Part: Chapter One
________________________________________________________



Possessed


Fastidious pacing marred only select marble tiling, a small fraction of chosen squares which covered the entire floor. They were special tiles, ones which felt the full brunt of power gracing each smooth surface. By no means were the others extraordinary in such a case. Disgusting, they were. Banished from his elegance and shunned to the beauty which lay in every meticulous step.

The select few he preferred were ravished however, stricken by his rage and deigned with the duty of upholding his deadly form. It was a gift bestowed unto them. Much like his presence itself, it is a gracious reward for others to bask in. Why could they not see this?

Frowning faces and anxious stares, wide eyes of fear and revere for his words. The combination was sickeningly delightful. To know he mystified and yet terrified them at the same moment. As it should be. There was no guarantee for the future and he knew such. So when he spoke of it, the light of time and the 4.5.6., he would be damned if they wouldn’t know his power; their power. The Masters.

A staccato of beats permeated within his head, the only sound he knew and the one he adored and despised. It was the heartbeat of one such species beyond the grace of man itself. He was special. He could hear it. He could relay the meanings and extend the fate of existence itself just with a single mention of its reality.

Why oh why, did they not understand?

One, two, three, four.

The beats pounded louder, in rhythmic sync. Yes, he knew the time was now. To deliver and uphold. To manifest and break. Rebuild and dominate.

They would know his name by the glory unfolded.

“We are fire and we are essence. We are Legion and we are truth.” What others saw as brainless babbling was the truth of life before their eyes.

His host’s beloved friends and family would fall ill to the ignorance. They were blinded.

“He will come and we will know. The mark of the children. The children… the children. The children!” Warped cords vocalized a shrieking end.

The left tile which sat next to the damned became holy under his foot in that instant. He pivoted on it with fluid movement. It became blessed in his world; special.

“Fall to form we shall, upon our knees!” He sounded positively gleeful. “God will burn within the heavens, a creed of life shed upon his lies. We will know and we will see.”

Battered fingertips which spent hours clawing at cement rose to his face, taking perch within the soft flesh. They pinched the skin with no mercy, digging in by means of bequeathing purpose. Slowly the nimble digits dragged down, relinquishing his body’s source of living in the form of scarlet juice. It was breathtaking. It made him croon, a gurgling purr of sensuous love. So perfect and fragile this body was, yet upholding so well under celestial brilliance; just so faithful.

That man was coming again. By the number in his steps and the weight upon flooring, he knew who it was. The one who entertained and knew not of true need. Such a damned soul among the masses, spreading grandeur knowledge born of a hopeless species. This treacherous fool would ruin the only hope left.

“Fitful we are not!” He hissed.

A small statured woman his host found familiar stood petrified, biting upon her worn knuckles and barely remaining where she stood. A blur of color unrecognized seemingly cowered behind her, tears in the eyes of a bright haired girl while two men consoled her. Such needless swine, sniveling and ungrateful. He snarled at them.

“K-Kurosaki-kun…” The young woman burrowed her face into the male on her left. Gray watery eyes leaked more tears, wetting the vibrant tangerine strands framing her face.

Why did she show such sadness? Did she not see the greatest deity before her, ready and willing to make prosperous advantages for all of humanity?

“The lady is not for turning…” The duel toned voice trailed off, its inhuman sound already repeating the words of true Masters once again, something this group of degenerates could barely recognize.

“By psychokinetic power they move. They will have power!”

Yes, yes, yes! The essence of another, he could taste it. So delicious and crude, ripping apart the nervous system by injecting heart stopping shocks of bioelectricity. Another session of their blessings he would receive, the craving so raw and pure.

Suddenly he howled, brought down to his knees in such a startling fashion that human and shinigami alike flinched violently. The man was coming, faster and faster, bearing down to take him away. It was too late though, for he would finally bow to communion and accept it unhindered.

“By divine retribution we will all pay! Sacrifice the young and bury the weak. Pleasure for the children and extermination for the filth! Our numbers will be sold by the 4.5.6. Our lives will be enriched by the Lords of our era!” The convulsions started.

Slack jawed and upon his knees, he readily received his daily dose.

Nothing in comparison ever felt this good. The body responded in kind, a tight fitting pressure within the confines of his pants. It pulsed with need, twitched with anticipation, begged to cry out… The strain routed his blood to the pinnacle of his body’s desire. A resounding crack brought tears to his eyes, muscles seizing and warping, snapping bone from joints. Collective gasps were hushed by his cackling, the ear piercing sound a break in time itself.

“Pay heed to the Master!” Gravelly screeching tore from his constricted throat.

Vision faltered to embrace blinding light, his body numb and the world ignored.

Vertebra snapped together in a painful yet delectable arch, hips jutting out as his mouth opened in a silent cry. Just like that he was pushed over the threshold, nearly every orifice excreting some type of bodily fluid. Foam gathered in his mouth, dribbling out to run down his chin as blood hemorrhaged from flared nostrils. More notably is the seed which spilled inside his pants, staining the jean fabric and sliding down his thigh.

The trembling and contorting continued, body spent yet still in rapture. Vaguely he could feel hands upon him, the burn of restriction against his skin already marking exactly who it was.

Yet it no longer mattered.

His host’s face twitched, a shaky leer of a grin hardly holding up despite how much it reflected all he felt and thought.

His King had lost; and that wasn’t even the best part.


TBC
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Kitana_Matsuri
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Character Info
Name: Grimmjow Jeagerjaques
Rank: Sexta Espada
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Alabaster Psychosis: Chapter One :: Comments

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Post on Mon 19 Apr 2010, 01:52 by Sunbriel

Hmm, I can feel Doctor's influence - bizarre, indeed. The "Time Lord", isn't it? It's been long time since I watched Dr Who... I love his crazy look. Okay, back to "reality".
So, he actually came by feeling the great power? That would make an awesome drawing. O.O If only I could draw...

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