When solid ground grows soft with emerald moss and rivulets of black mud, and coffee-colored water pours slowly around the trunks of densely carpeted trees, this marks the beginning of Laod Mor: the swamp of Blossom Forest. Time itself seems to slow to a soporific crawl . . . the humid jungle air grows stagnant, thick with the scent of rich flooded earth and an abundance of green things that can be found nowhere else—except perhaps Caidir Olc. In some areas of the swamp, water rises so high the only way to cross it is to crawl across fallen logs or massive roots arching from their liquid beds; in other places a wolf might wade easily through the mire—or find a fortunate stretch of mostly dry earth. Pieces of the great river, Glaesfaet Sceawere, also slice through from time to time: small falls that feed into surprisingly clear pools, only to terminate into tar-like pits. Of course, Laod Mor’s beauty shines brightest at night. Here, fireflies gather at all times of the year . . . suffusing the shadowy place with millions of twinkling lights.

Those looking to hunt here of course find a myriad of water prey, including caiman, turtles, fish, crayfish, otters, and toads.


my angel lie to me and tell me i'm dreaming

 photo 48b20f00-0179-4a2a-b058-4c4dccc4bae0_zpsnw0exejc.jpg

Inside the pit of his slimy organs, his stomach began to twist as he felt very uneasy. This woman was quite beautiful, yes, but she couldn't compare to his dear Annabel. No, she was not going to twist into his mind. Vintique was a loyal man. A man of his word. A man who would live until he perished to be reunited with his love. He wouldn't love anyone like he would his dear sweet Annabel. His orbs feel to the ground again.

"That's quite alright big boy, I didn't mean to startle." His strange looking orbs moved to look at her now, she was close. Very close. His jaw began to shake as she rubbed her body against his. Her tail flicked under his chin, orbs flicked up to see the woman. "I can be whom ever you'd like me to be." He merely shook his head and turned away from her, a scoff coming from his mouth.

"No, you can't be. He said, his head turning up so he stood straight. "You are not my dear Annabel. You are beautiful, yes, but not like my Annabel. She was the perfect soul and the purest of hearts." He looked from the sky to her. "No. You are not my Annabel Lee."

"And though I will do my best, there are no words that can be written nor brush strokes laid on canvas that can describe the stark and utter horror of the night that Annabel died . . ."

☆ Vintique ☆ Adult ☆ Vampiren ☆ Ties Youths Homeworld ☆ -Metalhead- ☆
The Emptiness Will Haunt You


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