Post by Amoura Clarice Ethelia on Mar 10, 2010 13:48:27 GMT -5
"There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colors gay.
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott."
A magic web with colors gay.
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott."
Silver eyes raised from the book she held open in one hand, and with a resigned sigh, she gingerly snaps it shut to slip it into the pouch of her traveling pack. No one could truly grasp how much literature helped her achieve self realization coupled with knowledge that assisted in her learning of human nature- it was cruel and selfish. While past literature figureheads agreed that man was naturally good, Amoura believed they were born with an innate desire to do evil. Still, the species fascinated her in more ways than one, especially through their literary works.
The Night Angel stood from where she sat in time for a sharp gust of wind to blow back her maroon, tattered cloak, revealing the leather-like armor she wore. All that could be seen of the escaped experiment were those unnaturally colored eyes, which held anger and spite towards any who dared to make contact with her gaze. The vampiress couldn't help it; she wasn't the type to come off as "nice".
Metallic talons tapped impatiently at the side of her left thigh whilst she issued a lamented sigh.
"Boring..."
