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- Oct 20, 2020
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A STORM BREWS IN EMPORIUM COURT...
ATOP A HIGH TOWER, STATIC ELECTRICITY STARCHES ACROSS THE TIGHT ORANGE AIR AS IF THREATENING TO CAUTERIZE THE ROOF ITSELF.
IN IT ALL, A FEKA HOLDS THE RODS HIGH, HER BONES SHOWCASED THROUGH HER SKIN, ELECTRIFYING.
POWER.
WHETHER IT IS A STANCE OF REBELLION, OR A WARNING FOR AN ONCOMING ATTACK, SHE CONVEYS SCIENCE WITH MAGICK IN HER OWN-AND IN THE NIGHT SHE CONTINUES TO BREW HER CONCOCTION OF MADNESS UNTIL IT IS PERFECTED IN HER OWN BLOOD.
ATOP A HIGH TOWER, STATIC ELECTRICITY STARCHES ACROSS THE TIGHT ORANGE AIR AS IF THREATENING TO CAUTERIZE THE ROOF ITSELF.
IN IT ALL, A FEKA HOLDS THE RODS HIGH, HER BONES SHOWCASED THROUGH HER SKIN, ELECTRIFYING.
POWER.
WHETHER IT IS A STANCE OF REBELLION, OR A WARNING FOR AN ONCOMING ATTACK, SHE CONVEYS SCIENCE WITH MAGICK IN HER OWN-AND IN THE NIGHT SHE CONTINUES TO BREW HER CONCOCTION OF MADNESS UNTIL IT IS PERFECTED IN HER OWN BLOOD.
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Brothers and Sisters of Hekism, to you this is addressed! And to any who cry in the dead of night, I hear you! I hear your prayers, I hear of your arrival and your distaste.
The writing is sloppy, cropped out and yet waves of cursive malform–as if the writer's hands were once beautiful and capable of crafting statements fit for a King, taken too soon from her and replaced with worn, feeble tips that only widowers beheld.
I am Capri Van de Ezel. I'on make myself out to be a prophet.
I am a doctor.
I am a scholar.
I am someone who pursues what she can to survive.
You may call this foolishness to erupt my presence in the view of the Ire.
To which I respond that it is! These fallacies they label it as are of my own, I am human!
Is it not within ourselves to make the effort to try–and try again?!
I make mistakes. It is beautiful.
Someone days ago cherished the word faith and hope in a conglomerative stew for me–inspiring what it means to be what we are. I will publicize that for them when they fight in the streets below, I make myself out to be their first barrier so that they may continue those enchanting speeches even when I am down to my last fucking breath!
To the Bralona who police these damn boards–fuck you. You will never, I have repeated this once before–never will know what it means to be us.
I hold it close and dear to my heart that I was told that I am flawed–I am what perfection sees as its worst nightmare! I grieve, I rage, I am happy with being imperfect. Is it not within our divine right that we see ourselves as afraid? These words are not suddenly my own, they are borrowed and temporary–utilized to make a cry out to those who are still too scared to recognize they are right.
The emotion of mortality is something they will never be able to hold–it is our treasure, not theirs.
Thank you, Erwin. For teaching me how good it fucking feels to get angry again.
Weaponize your fear. I have been beaten, bruised, tormented, and utilized by the Occupiers, if you need to hear my tale then so be it and find me in the streets.
I will not allow the Ire to criticize and abscond my trauma no longer. Come and hear the words of what they call science straight from the heart of one of the firsthands.
I plead of you to consider what it means to be human. In those awe'ing words of the other, it is what separates us from them. The capacity for us to feel fear is what arms us that true independence.
Embrace!
Allow yourself to feel: to feel the wrath, to take it into your veins like the iron that boils and brutalizes your inner skin, that melts from the streets and capitalizes the air with its scent.
This is no cry to pick up the mighty,
This is a cry for recognition!
It is a cry to validate, to invigorate the primality within ourselves. Put aside to rest the masculinities and femininities that hold yourselves back, and bind yourself towards what makes you be you, to release that unfitted anger into its true control!
Show the fuckers that we care about what they do to this world! Our world!
That we know they've not only done it once, twice, but before again and again!
Their stupidity knows no bounds–their ferality for 'research' crushes their perfect results, ruins their experimentation, and furthermore sours their image. They will never achieve their perfect lab, and will never be smarter than us because of the one thing they don't fucking have.
They may not care for that, and to that I say that we are more than just cattle driven into their pens. If it gives you a reason, insult their posterity!
They are not more than just sadistic bastards who lack a heart.
Purely, fuck them.
To Erwin–who stands still preaching despite the crisping flames of his once holiest site, this is for you. I have held every piece of word in my mind, and I have utilized it to unleash my chains.
You and many others have given me the strength again to fight past fear. Today, I had the moment to grab my gun, and be capable despite the pain to say I wanted to continue. That I wanted to continue to fight.
I will find what I have lost. Nothing is going to stop me from that.
I would never have been able to if I was still.
A personal address to those that have touched me. I am not bending from the opportunity to hunt you down. Again, and again.
It only takes me one sentence to let every man, beast, and creature know where you are.
You will never be able to fortify yourselves against me.
AND TO THE HOLY, TO THE DEVOUT, TO THE ONE WHO SPENDS EVERY ACHING MOMENT PRECEEDING THEIR RITUALS
KEEP YOUR FIGHT. KEEP YOUR SPIRITUALITY.
TO THOSE OF WHOM I ADDRESSED, LET RAIN YOUR FURY.
SISTERS AND BROTHERS IN ARMS, I INVITE YOU TO DAMNATE AND CURSE THE UN-FIT, THE UN-DEVOUT, THE UNHOLY.
FOR HOWEVER LONG THEY CONTINUE TO ATTACK, LET IT SINK IN THAT WE CONTINUE TO PRAY.
WE WILL BIND THEIR FEET TO THIS GROUND.
WE WILL BLIND THEM PAST WHAT POINT THEY ALREADY HAVE DONE TO THEMSELVES.
WE WILL CHOKE THEIR HAUTERING LAUGHTER–IT IS NOT THEIR RIGHT TO HAVE.
IF THERE IS ANY BETTER TIME TO ALLOW KARMA'S KISS, IT IS NOW.
THAT WE WILL CONTINUE TO MAIM THEIR SPIRIT WITH A HUNGRY PASSION FOR THEIR REJECTION FROM OUR MOST HOLIEST PLACES.
THEY WILL NEVER FINISH THEIR RESEARCH.
LET IT BE KNOWN THEY WILL NEVER REACH OUR AFTERLIFES.
FOR WHEN WE ARE GONE, THEY WILL BE STUCK ON THE PLANE AND DECAY.
UNFIT TO LIVE AGAIN IN A NEW WAY.
UNFIT TO SEE WHAT RESULTS IT BEHOLDENS.
EVERYTHING DECAYS. EVERYTHING WILL.
THEY WILL NOT CLAIM US, THEY WILL NOT DISCOVER OUR SECRETS IN WHAT IS BEYOND THE GRAVE.
THAT IS THEIR CURSE.
The writing is sloppy, cropped out and yet waves of cursive malform–as if the writer's hands were once beautiful and capable of crafting statements fit for a King, taken too soon from her and replaced with worn, feeble tips that only widowers beheld.
I am Capri Van de Ezel. I'on make myself out to be a prophet.
I am a doctor.
I am a scholar.
I am someone who pursues what she can to survive.
You may call this foolishness to erupt my presence in the view of the Ire.
To which I respond that it is! These fallacies they label it as are of my own, I am human!
Is it not within ourselves to make the effort to try–and try again?!
I make mistakes. It is beautiful.
Someone days ago cherished the word faith and hope in a conglomerative stew for me–inspiring what it means to be what we are. I will publicize that for them when they fight in the streets below, I make myself out to be their first barrier so that they may continue those enchanting speeches even when I am down to my last fucking breath!
To the Bralona who police these damn boards–fuck you. You will never, I have repeated this once before–never will know what it means to be us.
I hold it close and dear to my heart that I was told that I am flawed–I am what perfection sees as its worst nightmare! I grieve, I rage, I am happy with being imperfect. Is it not within our divine right that we see ourselves as afraid? These words are not suddenly my own, they are borrowed and temporary–utilized to make a cry out to those who are still too scared to recognize they are right.
The emotion of mortality is something they will never be able to hold–it is our treasure, not theirs.
Thank you, Erwin. For teaching me how good it fucking feels to get angry again.
Weaponize your fear. I have been beaten, bruised, tormented, and utilized by the Occupiers, if you need to hear my tale then so be it and find me in the streets.
I will not allow the Ire to criticize and abscond my trauma no longer. Come and hear the words of what they call science straight from the heart of one of the firsthands.
I plead of you to consider what it means to be human. In those awe'ing words of the other, it is what separates us from them. The capacity for us to feel fear is what arms us that true independence.
Embrace!
Allow yourself to feel: to feel the wrath, to take it into your veins like the iron that boils and brutalizes your inner skin, that melts from the streets and capitalizes the air with its scent.
This is no cry to pick up the mighty,
This is a cry for recognition!
It is a cry to validate, to invigorate the primality within ourselves. Put aside to rest the masculinities and femininities that hold yourselves back, and bind yourself towards what makes you be you, to release that unfitted anger into its true control!
Show the fuckers that we care about what they do to this world! Our world!
That we know they've not only done it once, twice, but before again and again!
Their stupidity knows no bounds–their ferality for 'research' crushes their perfect results, ruins their experimentation, and furthermore sours their image. They will never achieve their perfect lab, and will never be smarter than us because of the one thing they don't fucking have.
They may not care for that, and to that I say that we are more than just cattle driven into their pens. If it gives you a reason, insult their posterity!
They are not more than just sadistic bastards who lack a heart.
Purely, fuck them.
To Erwin–who stands still preaching despite the crisping flames of his once holiest site, this is for you. I have held every piece of word in my mind, and I have utilized it to unleash my chains.
You and many others have given me the strength again to fight past fear. Today, I had the moment to grab my gun, and be capable despite the pain to say I wanted to continue. That I wanted to continue to fight.
I will find what I have lost. Nothing is going to stop me from that.
I would never have been able to if I was still.
A personal address to those that have touched me. I am not bending from the opportunity to hunt you down. Again, and again.
It only takes me one sentence to let every man, beast, and creature know where you are.
You will never be able to fortify yourselves against me.
──────────────────────────────────────────────────────
A LOUD BANG SHRIEKS FROM EMPORIUM COURT IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT.
THE SOUNDS OF THUNDEROUS, HEAVY BOOTS STORM THE COBBLESTONE IN THESE DISTRICTS:
FLORAL COURT.
QADIR DISTRICT.
GODS COURT.
EMPORIUM COURT.
OLD CROOKBACK.
NEW CROOKBACK.
NEW ARENA COURT.
OLD ARENA COURT.
A THUNDERLANCE BOOMS AS THE POST IS STAPLED TO THE BOARD JUST OUTSIDE OF GREYGATE.
──────────────────────────────────────────────────────
In wrought-up writing, the good doctor's vigor increases like the storm above. Minutes before she had publicized this letter herself, running in the heavy rain to and from the next board, she sits below candlelight with a battle-fury face shown. THE SOUNDS OF THUNDEROUS, HEAVY BOOTS STORM THE COBBLESTONE IN THESE DISTRICTS:
FLORAL COURT.
QADIR DISTRICT.
GODS COURT.
EMPORIUM COURT.
OLD CROOKBACK.
NEW CROOKBACK.
NEW ARENA COURT.
OLD ARENA COURT.
A THUNDERLANCE BOOMS AS THE POST IS STAPLED TO THE BOARD JUST OUTSIDE OF GREYGATE.
──────────────────────────────────────────────────────
AND TO THE HOLY, TO THE DEVOUT, TO THE ONE WHO SPENDS EVERY ACHING MOMENT PRECEEDING THEIR RITUALS
KEEP YOUR FIGHT. KEEP YOUR SPIRITUALITY.
TO THOSE OF WHOM I ADDRESSED, LET RAIN YOUR FURY.
SISTERS AND BROTHERS IN ARMS, I INVITE YOU TO DAMNATE AND CURSE THE UN-FIT, THE UN-DEVOUT, THE UNHOLY.
FOR HOWEVER LONG THEY CONTINUE TO ATTACK, LET IT SINK IN THAT WE CONTINUE TO PRAY.
WE WILL BIND THEIR FEET TO THIS GROUND.
WE WILL BLIND THEM PAST WHAT POINT THEY ALREADY HAVE DONE TO THEMSELVES.
WE WILL CHOKE THEIR HAUTERING LAUGHTER–IT IS NOT THEIR RIGHT TO HAVE.
IF THERE IS ANY BETTER TIME TO ALLOW KARMA'S KISS, IT IS NOW.
THAT WE WILL CONTINUE TO MAIM THEIR SPIRIT WITH A HUNGRY PASSION FOR THEIR REJECTION FROM OUR MOST HOLIEST PLACES.
THEY WILL NEVER FINISH THEIR RESEARCH.
LET IT BE KNOWN THEY WILL NEVER REACH OUR AFTERLIFES.
FOR WHEN WE ARE GONE, THEY WILL BE STUCK ON THE PLANE AND DECAY.
UNFIT TO LIVE AGAIN IN A NEW WAY.
UNFIT TO SEE WHAT RESULTS IT BEHOLDENS.
EVERYTHING DECAYS. EVERYTHING WILL.
THEY WILL NOT CLAIM US, THEY WILL NOT DISCOVER OUR SECRETS IN WHAT IS BEYOND THE GRAVE.
THAT IS THEIR CURSE.
──────────────────────────────────────────────────────
... oocly .. | emporium court's gotten awfully noisy in the towers that face god's court. the location is publicly known: capri's residence is emporiumcourt15, the source of it all. if you'd like to set up conflict rp, etc. please dm me on discord! want to rob it? just lmk!
@BeetrootSalad | thank you for the sermon to boost capri's anger!!
@BeetrootSalad | thank you for the sermon to boost capri's anger!!
