|Imoria (standard:fantasy, 505 words)|
|Author: KayEss||Added: Dec 05 2002||Views/Reads: 1867/1||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|He is the Beautiful one.|
﻿He was strolling along, surveying the offset sky. The stars were un-naturally bright for being this early in the course of the night. His cloak billowed behind him and ruffled with the way of the wind. His ebony hair, being tousled about, shaped his lean jaw and split just a little around his wars to reveal the delicate points at their top. His face was flushed from the biting cold winter wind, yet his lips were as smooth as the flow of the waterfall he was now looking down upon, no longer surveying the sky. His eyes, oh his eyes! The sparkles and colors! The universe seemed to be captured in a small amount of space, yet so large! His name had been spoken for many years. Some better and the rest worse. of justice and peace, beauty and blemish, strength and weakness, distraction and tranquility. It spoke of the young and of the old, the soldiers and the captives, the poor and the wealthy, the hunter and the hunted. It revealed the future and the past, the forgiven and the unforgivable, loneliness and company. All of these things he had come to know well, oh so very well. Loneliness above all. Always alone. Always in company, though. Always the past. Always the future. Always poor. Always beautiful. Beauty he had known almost as long as loneliness. Always strong. Always weak. Needing justice. Needing peace. Always young. Forever old. Always hunting. Always hunted. Always there. He had been called many things. The Healer, the Worshiped, the Kind, the Terrible. He had been thought of as Disgust, Torture, Wanderer, Dreamer, Love. No one knew his name, they just thought of him as they wished to, never knowing, yet always knowing. He would come and go. People would call him mysterious others would think of him as beauty itself. No one ever really saw his face unless they could See Through, which was very rare for anyone, even himself. He, of course, could See Through. People could See Through to his identity, and become to know his name. They would whisper it to him and he would become frustrated and would tear apart the person's memory, for they would torture him by revealing his identity to other people. He would become terrified and he would have to hurt more people and then all of a sudden he would have to give up and go away forever, only to come back again. The name that they whispered, inviting him to a challenge, and that he had nightmares about night after night was his most beautiful characteristic of all. Imoria. Oh, what was in a name! His name meant all of the mentioned above. It was powerful and a weapon. Imoria. Speak it and you will understand. It can drive one mad with its beauty and its power. Waiting to be drenched and left standing there without a trace. Never holding back. Ready to release the full blast. It becomes one with him. Names never part. He is IMORIA!!!! Tweet
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