In a cataclysm known as the Nightfall, the worlds were almost completely destroyed by a harrowing surge of darkness.
In the shadows of the ensuing chaos a new group has taken shape. Led by an Aegyl named Kalos, the 11th Hour touts an esoteric knowledge of how to combat the darkness and restore the worlds. They might be the worlds’ best chance at survival; but nobody really knows enough about them to confirm or deny their claims.
On the brink of collapse, the universe holds its breath in anticipation. Of restoration? Of destruction? It is up to individuals like yourself to decide.
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hey there guys, so, i'm short on muse right now, however i've been meaning to try and "expand" my writing style. sooo, i was thinking that perhaps i should just try them here! please, feel free not to reply, especially if you're going to give rude criticism. if you're constructive, you can post for sure! or pm me, but i don't think anyone cares enough so its cool.
Oh, for the first one, I thought it would be cool to go from the point of view of a Heartless Shadow, the simplest of all the enemies in the series. Since we never know exactly how they really really act, I figured it would be kind of neat to try my own kind of interpretation. Obviously they are true simpletons. :3 Anyways, let me know what you think, feel free to post back with your own kind of interpretation or portrayal or whatever. c: As for style in this one, I went with the present tense because on another site I am on, a lot of the people I consider to be "better writers" use it, and it somehow relates to the character better for me. Of course, it might just be because they're good writers. Whatever, I tried. xD
The shadows slips into the darkness, its hungry, sick eyes glowing amber as it eyes up a woman. Taller in structure. Defenseless. Perfect. With a shaky and ominous whirring noise, the shadow emerges from the pool of darkness that had previously been stirring, hidden in the shadows. With a small shout of desperation, the fresh meat does nothing to resist. Shifting, convulsing, the shadow dances in glee. The distant feeling of happiness hardly remains from grasp, and the greedy lust for completion reminisces in a simplistic form of hunger. He, yes, he, quickly dodges back into the shadows.
The words echo endlessly in its sorry excuse for a mind -- perhaps one should give a little pity on the creature. After all, the bloodlusting monster was once a human itself, but is trapped in a form in which there is no known way to revert back from. To be deprived of any positivity, organizable thoughts, love... Le pauvre. He skitters across the side walk, barren of any walking hearts, any food. Quietly, the need for food ironically eats away at him. He needs the hearts. He needs them. What else can he have?
Shadow, yes, Shadow, needs them. The hearts, the food, they are all he needs to get on. Everything else is useless. Everything else is non-existent. Oh, to only quell the hunger...
Shadow leaps to the surface, his feeble physique shakes and his mind and stomach cry out for the food they need so much. Was that something? He turns. Its a human. A boy, perhaps, with a big thing, some sort of thing. It wasn't a heart. The boy has a heart though. Shadow turns again, still not close enough to the heart. It was another shadow, another thing like him, he thinks. It will take my hearts, Shadow thinks, and he hurries. The hearts, they must be is. What else is he if he doesn't have a heart? Shadow cannot know.
Ouch. Shadow feels the pain. The boy sees him as nothing more than another thing. But Shadow sees the boy. He has a heart. Oh, a heart... Slowly he feels himself being lifted into the air, looking down upon the boy who is going on with his thing once again.
