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Choked by ferns and broken up by roots, upon inspection it was clear that no one could seriously trust the remains of the path to guide one to ones destination.
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He would get to live to see history happen at its own speed, instead of the span of a flimsy human lifetime. Noé smiled bitterly. He was fond of his flimsy humanity.
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The drawing room was precisely what one would expect from the Marquis de Sade. In the midst of these predictable curios were some items that were shaped and designed… suspiciously.
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"People were claiming they saw vampires walking the streets, as if the monsters of Slavic legend had come to life."
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The moonlight behind the overcast sky diffused into a gray haze; the lamplight sharpened the ghostly wisps of mist. The train waited as if it were dead; no station-men could be seen. An abandoned stillness hung over everything.
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"Your heart will no longer be wearied because he will turn it into ice. An indestructible being composed of pure mind. Without love, without mercy, without pity."
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He turned to Noé. “Now then. Do you want a drink?”
Noé looked up at him in disbelief. An amused smile found its way on Vanitas’ face.
“That’s not the kind of drink I meant,” He chuckled. ”Stay put and I’ll be back with the kettle.”
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Noé looked up at him in disbelief. An amused smile found its way on Vanitas’ face.
“That’s not the kind of drink I meant,” He chuckled. ”Stay put and I’ll be back with the kettle.”
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Thanatos: Chapter 1 — Hydriotaphia
Dec. 13th, 2023 07:51 pm“But despite the biographies of all of these men, educating us on their legacies and the qualities that define them, separate from each other, every one of them is exactly the same. For I have yet to see an absence of the same mistaken logic proceeding from unjustified axioms, that if they delve into the layers of reality it will give up the true principles of this world. They struggle in this mission with unsatisfactory results; God allots them a finite time, circumscribed by the same ‘right-lined circle’ that marks the end.”
Noé Archiviste meets an alchemist in the hopes of finding burial urns of generations long gone.
For Sir Thomas Browne, who thought we were lit by invisible suns.
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Noé Archiviste meets an alchemist in the hopes of finding burial urns of generations long gone.
For Sir Thomas Browne, who thought we were lit by invisible suns.
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