Post by Vey, on Sept 19, 2008 17:36:28 GMT -5
The Secret Writings of Keir.
Moon phase: New. Year: Unknown.
Note: For the sake of years, this shall hereby be year one.
I am a ghost... I am a rat. I seek company with the shadows, the light is my enemy. I know they think I'm crazy... They're the crazy ones. They go out in the light... They talk in excess... They mock the wolf from which they get their extraordinary abilities... And yet, they are my own kind. I seek the lesser of two evils. Be alone, in the open and in anger, or stay here in the tunnels and answer to only one Lycan... Speak only when necessary. I suspect my voice has become raspy from lack of use... Perhaps my voice box would be of more use in my stomache...
I think they may start to get ngry... The walls outside and inside my quarters are lined with scratchmarks. I hape not... I would have to leave the tunnels to release my anger, then... I don't want to leave the tunnels. The light is my enemy... the shadows are my savior... the shadows are my savior...
{here the writing becomes scribbled and shaky.}
the shadows... they help me surprise my food... human flesh...
{drool drops spatter the bottom of the paper, nothing more is written for this moonphase.}
Moon phase: New. Year: Unknown.
Note: For the sake of years, this shall hereby be year one.
I am a ghost... I am a rat. I seek company with the shadows, the light is my enemy. I know they think I'm crazy... They're the crazy ones. They go out in the light... They talk in excess... They mock the wolf from which they get their extraordinary abilities... And yet, they are my own kind. I seek the lesser of two evils. Be alone, in the open and in anger, or stay here in the tunnels and answer to only one Lycan... Speak only when necessary. I suspect my voice has become raspy from lack of use... Perhaps my voice box would be of more use in my stomache...
I think they may start to get ngry... The walls outside and inside my quarters are lined with scratchmarks. I hape not... I would have to leave the tunnels to release my anger, then... I don't want to leave the tunnels. The light is my enemy... the shadows are my savior... the shadows are my savior...
{here the writing becomes scribbled and shaky.}
the shadows... they help me surprise my food... human flesh...
{drool drops spatter the bottom of the paper, nothing more is written for this moonphase.}