ASTERISM TILDE
all hail the DARK THRONE

His eyes lingered on that woefully formed heiress, Validia Noir, whose beauty was magnified by the orange hues of hungry orange flames licking at her youthful flesh, as he stood before the tightly shut doors of the ivory Citadel. Though the dainty heiress would never know of his secret stolen glances, Asterism couldn’t help but dream. Her skin was soft, and so innocent. She giggled softly as he neared. His eyes slipped shut for a moment, a shiver jolting down his spine. His rump and back glowed an eery orange hue, his flesh sizzling. The raging flames managed to ward off approaching icy gusts, winter’s lusty fingers missing her opportunity to leave her frostbitten kiss along his grey coat. Low murmurs from the king himself gently entangled themselves with his perfectly erected ears, which quickly soaked up each eloquent syllable. "Fear nothing." He mumbled, his head dipping in agreement. Asterism had refused to make an appearance within those pristine white walls; the Citadel was no place for a child born of a slave mother. "My blood, my bones! They are useless." A defeated moan escaped his parting lips as his head dipped to his chiseled chest in defeat. "If it weren't for her. If it weren't for HER!" His nose crinkled at the thought of his traitorous mother, Snark, who so nonchalantly left his father’s side to join a band of moral deprived whores. Of course, Asterism would never admit his relation to that red wench! ”My mother? Oh, she was lost in a tragic accident.” His perfectly choreographed response played over and over in his mind until he almost believed it to be true, after all, she was lost to him.

His body tensed at the sound of muted footfalls, his head snapping to the right. ”Zeus!” He spoke with relief, his sudden fear instantly drained from his rather youthful body. His expression of surprise was quickly replaced by confusion. Had Zeus not battled Roxis? Had their alliance been reborn? His invisible brow furrowed, head cocking the the side. With hesitance, he dismissed his arising questions. ”I didn’t hear you arrive.” He spoke more confidently, his head rising an inch or two. Suddenly, a newfound sense of pride radiated from his swarthy build. Perhaps it was Zeus, his father's closest ally, who sparked his inner confidence. Decaying images of Snark dissolved from the forefront of his mind, the old photos burning to ashes. ”The son of Thalbe, a heir to the Isola dynasty.” A grin curled along his black lips, his eyes flickering against the yellow glow bleeding from within the Citdale.

Finally, the throng of rebels crept from the dank shadows, their beady eyes glowing against the moonless sky. A low, feral hiss flooded through clenched teeth, his ears slinking back against his coarse locks. ”Lapse, you will regret this day!” He boomed, a foreleg striking out at the frost coated patch of grass set before him. The blind whore dazedly clung to Lapse’s neck, her drunken ramblings simply sickening. ”You filthy spinster! You would coo any name with the slightest twinge of royalty!” His head thrashed, saliva dripping from his lips. Invisible fetters restrained his bulging muscles, his hooves dancing feverishly atop the hardened soil. His rump brushed against the alabaster column he stood before, the stone surprisingly warm against his already searing flesh. Anxiety riddled eyes leapt from rebel to rebel, only daring one to take a leap of faith and charge his chosen pillar. ”Take your best shot, slovenly mongrels.” He growled, head lowering to his chest in a defensive pose. To an on looking spectator, Asterism appeared to be yet another defender of the great white walls, but he was so much more. Yet another handful of lustful glances, and another set of daydreams fueled his relentless stake-out.Then she brushed away his blood encrusted locks, and spoke those sacred words.

And the battle began.





Puppet: ASTERISM TILDE
Allied to: THE DARK THRONE, DOWN WITH LAPSE!
Status: COMPLETE
Attacked: NONE, yet

THOUGHTS DAYDREAMS WORDS

BRING OUT THE OLD GUILLOTINE
WE'LL SHOW 'EM WHAT WE ALL MEAN!

✗ This was the exact moment he’d been waiting for. Since the very second Demo had slipped from the comforts of the womb into the raw, cold world of Cimoron Island, his father had preached to him that he was a Volta man; a warrior. It was in his blood, it was who he was. Except, it was not until this very moment that he realized what that truly meant; this was who he was. That adrenaline, so intoxicating and addictive, it shot through his veins like a long awaited dose of heroin. Sure, he’d been trained, what colt in the Dark Alliance wouldn’t be? Fully grown to his sixteen point one hands, he was tall, but not too tall… slender, but with a defined muscularity about him. There were few who had the same look as he did... for his father was slender and slick, almost like a serpent. Then again, those on his mother’s side had the large, burly look of the warmblood. An interesting combination, but it somehow worked for him. His gait was sneaky, fluid, easy and effortless as a snake coiling and slithering through the brush, undetected by the world around him. He did not join the rowdy crowd that surrounded the young prince, preaching and pledging their undying loyalties. It was pointless; it fell upon deaf ears. Just because you could talk pretty words and cleverly sew them into a quilt of poetry and beauty did not make you any more loyal or useful than a newborn child. Blood and Iron, Blood and Iron! Bismarck was no fool… a strong military was the core. He had a feeling that Lapse Vultura was well on his way to creating the second Reich.

✗ His liquid black eyes, resembling oil spilled on pavement, slowly stretched over the surrounding Citadel. He pictured it, demolition and holocausts. It would be the biggest genocide in history, all hail the revolution! They just needed to strap a band around the columns and shoot the place up with a healthy dose of ephedrine. The entire world would come alive, just to fall to its knees. But that was exactly what was happening to Roxis’ children. Dormant, silent… until something lit a fire in their eyes. They rose like a tidal wave, only to be crushed beneath the iron fist of their own prince. That was what decided his loyalty, right there. The wit, the change… the pure gall it took to stand against not only a father, but an undefeated King. As a child, Demo had been spit on and shoved to agree… those days came to an end this very moment as the foundation began to crumble beneath dozens of hooves. Roxis, he never had a chance. Youth and strength trumped seniority. The revolution always destroyed the old regime. Slowly his eyes flickered up to the Prince and his Queen. A modern day Napoleon, the Citadel was the Bastille… and they were storming. Finally, the serpent of an equine slid from the shadows, his masked face drawn with nothing but serenity. The only hint of hostility he ever let past his perfect guise lay completely in those unctuous eyes. Demo did not pick a target from the swarms; instead he simply stood atop a small bluff and waited. A coiled serpent, prepared to strike, prepared to kill. “We… are… rev-o-lution!” That was the single sentence he bellowed into the crisp air, and again he fell still against the overcast backdrop of the city.

character ✗ demolition volta.
words ✗ o.ooo
status ✗ complete
lyrics ✗ © mychemicalromance
notes ✗ for the revolution!

post © giizmo 2009
demolition volta © giizmo and nobody 2009
header and post format by nobody for giizmo of ci2.

Flirt!

The sound of battle cries and fallen bodies thundered through fiery pricked ears. The vision of reckless beasts tearing one another limb from limb reflected in dark glassy eyes. The sights and sounds of a battle, a revolution, a mutiny. Or so it would be if it weren't for the loyal followers of the king. The few trustworthy equines left in the dark lands corrupted by rebellious scoundrels, and one rebellious soundrel in particular. The so called prince. Normally the fiery tempered mare wouldn't bother herself with the childish squabbles brought about by the various idiots that seemed to surround her in every direction. This time was different though. This time she wasn't going to let the citadel, and more importantly her place in the royal herd, go without a fight. And what a fight it was going to be. She was by no means strong or powerful. Nor did she stand at a great height or have the experience in fighting that a great deal of the viscious beasts that crowded the citadel appeared to have. What she did have though, was the speed, agility and determination to kick those mother fuckers back to the hole they came from.

Dainty hooves made no sound amongst the uproar of the violent battle. Long slender legs carried her petite frame towards the mass of bared teeth and hooves that was the fight for the throne. As the reality of the fighting grew closer, doubt began to grow in her mind. Normally she was too vain for fighting, and obtaining hideous battle scars was not something she particularly wanted to do any time soon. She wasn't strong, and standing at a mere fourteen point three hands she'd be easily crippled by some of the larger, bulkier brutes if a flying hoof or set of sharp teeth managed to catch her soft flame hued pelt. It was these thoughts that had her body ready to turn and run back in the direction she came from. The other part of her brain stopped herself from doing such a thing however. The part that told her that running away was cowardly, that if she didn't fight she could lose her place in the royal herd, that she could have to be under the rule of the vile scoundrel that was the prince. It was these thoughts that kept her running in the direction of the battle.

As the battle drew nearer the vision of violence and death drew into focus. She was a stranger to the blood and gore of a heated battle. Of course she'd been in her fair share of fights, but they were pathetic and short-lived. Nothing like the battle she was willingly throwing herself into now. She was almost in the centre of the uproar now, eyes scanning the battlefield frantically for someone to fight that wouldn't crush her very bones if she made one wrong move. A few times limbs flew out in her direction but she easily swerved out of harm, the blows poorly aimed and usually meant for someone else. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted a young filly amongst the battle, trying desperately to fight one of the large mutts defending the king. A smirk crept onto her kissers, it would be all too easy to pick a fight with the filly, but the large brute could probably take care of her himself. Besides, another equine had caught her wandering attention. A stallion this time. She would be taking a gamble in picking a fight with the mutt, but although still powerful and intimidating, he looked slightly less so than a lot of the other bulkier mutts.

Quickly she found herself loping in the direction of the brute, her stride long and effortless as his cry entered her auds. Revolution my arse. As usual her attention was focused on a mutt, but not for the usual reason. Slowing her pace down to a prance her eyes never left his, waiting for the right moment to attack the wretched thing. "Well, well, well, what do we have here then?" Her voice was bitter as she teased the mutt, words lacking their usual flirtatious tone. "Another idiotic mutt who thinks he can help take over the dark throne?" She continued, slowing down to a walk, head lowered slightly as she glared up at him, ready to lunge at any second. "Well I've just got one question for you..." Her voice was low, holding a subtle warning tone to it. "Ever been beaten up by a girl?" She finished tauntingly, raising her dial, now only a few strides away from the mutt. She'd put on a front of confidence, there was no point behaving like a coward no matter how much she didn't want to fight. If she carried on walking much closer she'd bump into him and she realised it was now or never. She was quick, unbelievably so. In a blur of fiery red she covered the last few strides between them in a matter of seconds. In the same motion her front legs came up, hind legs carrying her body upwards into a full rear. She left little time for anyone to even register she'd reared up before she came crashing downwards, throwing her full weight at the scoundrel of a mutt. Extending her neck and lunging out with her sharp teeth she aimed for his throat, the movement swift and agile. The attack lasted a matter of seconds, darting backwards in a hope to get out of the way before he had a chance to fight back. With any luck she'd done some damage to the idiot, if only minor, but now the hard part had begun. She'd made her attack and now it was luck she put her faith in to keep her out of harm's way...

Gonna run this town tonight!

ASTERISM TILDE
all hail the DARK THRONE

The rebels were wild, and ruthless, but the defenders were equally inhospitable company. One by one the rebels raced down that steep blood-soaked hill only to be met by a set of flaming hooves set on picking apart their slender bodies limb from limb. ”Today is your day, Asterism Tilde. Today, you will push back a revolt! You will earn your father’s name! You will be cleansed of your birthright to shame!” His thoughts cheered, applauded his valiant efforts, as he remained planted before the thick ivory column he defended. Blood curdling screams and a collection of war ravened cries created the most beautiful symphony, the wind carrying the scent of blood onwards to surrounding terrains. His well-muscled hind quarters bunched together with excitement, his hooves continuing to pluck feverishly at the fog coated ground below.

His eyes narrowed as Lapse slipped into view, quickly followed by his blind consort. Asterism could not grasp the reasoning behind the prince’s sudden revolution against his father; such traitorous actions would not be tolerated. Family ties, aside from that dreadful mother, are the glue that holds an empire together. His maw twisted into a distorted sneer, ears sinking back against his sweat soaked scull. His eyes lingered on the stallion for a few moments, soaking in every ounce of ignorance, which pulsated from his unscathed body.

A crème tainted equine flashed in the corner of his eye, and then it came.

An unearthly scream rippled through his vocal cords, continuing to pour out of his maw in an airy screech. A set of sharp teeth clutched a large portion of muscle and hyde, which spread along the outer left portion of his now coiled neck. With a violent jerk to the right, Asterism freed himself from the attacker’s unforgiving grasp. Instantly, his dark grey coat was soaked with blood, steam rising from the formidable wound. Finally, Asterism was able to catch a glimpse of his ghostly figure. ”Astrata, what have you done?!” He screamed, hooves striking out in dismay. ”You have chosen a revolt over blood!” His voice trembled with rage, his body pulsating with an anger that could not be extinguished by even the thickest blood. ”You, Astrata. You will be hunted down until the day I die!” He screamed before catapulting forward in the direction of Astrata. Being the coward he was, Astrata had retreated back to the thicket of attackers in an attempt to shield himself from his own brother’s counter. ”You fool, insolent fool!” His mind screamed, hooves pounding relentlessly at the blood soaked soil. As he neared his brother, who had risen to his hind legs in some sort of lazy rear, Asterism lowered his head to an attacking position. He charged Astrata as he uneasily hobbled his gangly two hind legs, Asterism hoping to ram into his left hind leg. ”Slice him, dice him.” His teeth clacked together as he closed in on Astrata's dangerously exposed lower belly and flank, only hoping to snag a tender sliver of unmarred flesh

The collision of flesh and bone was unheard, the sounds bleeding into the harmonic symphony of anguish.

What a beautiful day.



Puppet: ASTERISM TILDE
Allied to: THE DARK THRONE, DOWN WITH LAPSE!
Status: INCOMPLETE
Attacked: defended himself against ASTRATA RAINE, then counter-attacked
Current injuries: Large gash on left side of neck
Current Attack: Asterism charged Astrata while he was rearing in an attempt to ram his left hind leg. He also snapped at his flank and lower belly repeatedly.
Damage done to others: pending

THOUGHTS DAYDREAMS WORDS