[dohtml]<center><div style="background-color: d1d1d1; border: solid 6px #7d784f; height: auto; width: 400px; -moz-border-radius: 200 200 0 0px;"><center><div style="height:10px;"></div>
<div style="background-image: url(http://i356.photobucket.com/albums/oo4/Fuentescd/Decorated%20images/splice12.jpg); width: 380px; height: 300px; -moz-border-radius: 200 200 0 0px;">
</div><div style="height:5px;"></div><div style="font-family: times new roman; font-size: 20px; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 8px; line-height: 100%; width: 380px; padding-left: 3px; text-transform: uppercase; color: 444444;">`HOW ARE WE GONNA WORK THIS OUT <i>?</I></div><div style="font-family: times new roman; font-size: 6.5px; text-align: justify; letter-spacing: 3px; line-height: 100%; width: 380px; padding-left: 3px; text-transform: uppercase; color: 444444;">DREAMS AREN'T BAD. I HAD TURNED BACK. I LOVE THE GIRL BUT GOD ONLY KNOWS ITS GETTING HARD TO SEE THE SUN COMING THROUGH I LOVE YOU... BUT WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO? </div>
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Rasputin looked strange. A lone man, walking through the woods, trampling through leaves and discarded twigs as well as the rest of the fallen mess of nature. He wasn't particularly quiet. He didn't advertise himself, but he wasn't one for silence, he was no ninja, his steps were deliberate, perhaps a bit clambering, but direct. He was dressed in a completely black suit, head to toe, black, with a gray tie, eyebrows pressed together in a melancholy expression, as if every movement, every pressing stride brought great sadness to him. He always looked distant, his skin pale and cold, he didn't look like the nature type. And he wasn't, he was used to his home in Antarctica. His Castle ghoul rarely saw the sun,
the most light he saw were those of the torches, and even then, he kept them dim.
<p>
So he continued to trudge, greeted by the average sounds of the woods, the chirping and rustling, the knocking of creatures as they navigated their homes, life in it's honest forms. Life was something Rasputin knew little about, it was death that he was preoccupied about most of the time. Or rather pausing it. Death could not find him, it would not reach him or anything he touched. Many called him a perversion of nature- Raphael had called him a perversion of nature, but he disregarded this as the murmurings of people who couldn't comprehend what he could do. He wasn't perverting nature or diverting death, he was improving nature, he was pausing death. Perpetual existence. Un-life, Un-death. Limbo. Souls existing far after their bodies had met an expiration date were still souls none the less- and within Rasputin, all existed. All were connected that he absorbed.
<p>
Rasputin did not often visit the world anymore, he was strong in his Castle, his magick got greater and greater, he had the capabilities that he did not know he could posses. But silently he had been absorbing more than just Dark Magick- he'd taken more from the evil grove that sat not far from his castle. He'd unknowingly begun taking the madness. But now that he was away from his castle his mind was a bit quieter, his thoughts lucid and settled. He thought of the mysteries in the world, of the meaning of God and Sin. He thought of the corrupted worthlessness of this world and it's people and a silent hope at the day that the world is wiped clean- given a fresh start under true direction. New Eden. Then name was hope to Rasputin, and it swam around his mind quite often.
<p>
He was brought to the Woods by a death, the death of a wild Stag- the oldest in this forest. He'd been watching it for quite some time, it was old, incredibly old for any creature. It had seen years beyond it's design, and Rasputin had seen it die in a vision. He knew where, he knew when, he only needed to reach it. Such a large soul, an extensive creature, it held power in it's experience, power that had forced it's soul to grow. Rasputin desired it. It wasn't long until he came across a the stag. It was huge. Incredibly huge. Impossibly huge. Far larger than the average Stag. Rasputin watched as it breathed it's final breath, struggling, seemingly wanting to move forward, unprepared for the afterlife. Rasputin stood over him, kneeling he set a long, spidery hand over it's side.
<p>
"
Shh, there there now. Death can wait."
<p>
The Stag gave a snort of alarm at Rasputin's presence, then died. Rasputin absorbed it immediately and stood again. Nodding as he looked over it's spirit, he was suddenly distracted as he saw another spirit hovering behind it. His brow furrowed. The spirit was peculiar, not one of an animal, something different- far more interesting. Rasputin began to walk towards it, weaving past trees he came across a house. He stood and watched it, silent.
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THIS POST IS
WORD COUNT WORDS LONG AND IS TAGGED FOR
TAGS HERE. MY CHARACTER IS WEARING
OUTFIT HERE AND I WANTED TO SAY
NOTES HERE.
</div></center><div style="width: 380px; padding: 3px; text-align: right; letter-spacing: 3px; text-transform: uppercase; font-family: times new roman; font-size: 7px; color: 444444;">TEMPLATE BY
ASHOO ! OF CAUTION 2.0</div></div></center>[/dohtml]
