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It's a
deranged setting, sullied and tainted with bright green grass that
shone as soft as a cloud. A stream lay to the side, a series of paths
leading deeper into the ganglands. Something about this place seems
misleading, though. Might it be the inevitable stench of death that
decorated an otherwise stainless land of unmistakeable beauty? Or
perhaps it be the godswood who turned their branches to the sky, who's
solemn expressions were painted with a deft look of fallacy and
oversubtlety that overshadowed with a sinister mockery. Maybe it was
that pristine look of an untouched clear that was a clean, warm
welcome. The calm before the storm? A possibility that lingered like a
mid-summer's breeze, slightly faint and delusioned.
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A haunting existed here. A
tearing feeling of dread that decieved the appearance of the dominion.
Something kept the prey at bay and the predators, too... The place
seemed utterly deserted save the raucous and unruly blackbirds that
cawed their sardonic banter throughout the entrada land. In a plastic
world, the songs were real and the fraudulent, too. Masks wore the
area, a threat seemed to emanate and intoxicate all the beings, dead or
alive. If the land had an aura to taint the inexorable peace, it would
be a grim veil of blackness.
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However dark
the dreary dominion seemed, it welcomed travellers with beckoning
promises. This is a land for the outcasts, alignments put aside. Dance
with the demons. The Darkers, the Pure Hearts and every shade of grey.
A road for the lost. A home for untouchables all around. A sanctuary
for the vagrants, tyrants, or simply those who've lost faith in their
very own kind.
Misdirection is Sweet. Lavish in a lifestyle.
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