This time of disorder might have been worthwhile if there was agitated nerves and loathing, but instead slaves and Masters eat bounteously side by side, in each other's clothes and are jovial.

The disallowing of battles, murder, executions and even threats... it's agony. Instead of candles it could be blow torches? Automatic weapons? ( Read more... )

An esteemed attendant suggested I create some CDs in honour of.. Me. I think it's a brilliant idea, but have only arranged 3 thus far, and have numerous more to go before I can complete my "Symphony of Ares" collection. So consider this a noble plea for song ideas ( Read more... )

It's Friday the 13th. This only happens numerous times a year. So go out and deck your neighbour. You know you want to..

Congenial mood brought to you by this.

Ares' first ( Therapy Session. )

*departing from the pleasing refurbishing of his bed chamber, multitudinous workers toiling to keep the indignation of the hostile God away, stepping into the heavily garnished terrace. Walking along the skirting walkway, he tarries a moment, resting both firm elbows upon the detailed iron work of the barrier which fenced him in against the Temple' ( Read more... )

*his bedraggled figure derives from an explosion of ruby smoke that even in itself seems weary to garnish the God's enervated state. Formerly bare foot, now bootclad, rolls over a large nugget of fragmented cement and marble as he tawdrily crunches across the soiled floor of his heretofore ostentatious bed chambers. Each step reminding him of the ( Read more... )

*handed the papyrus parchment of his prosaic duties, he loosens the sash about the cylinder, allowing the bottom rod to topple over his lap and onto the floor; the list doubtlessly long. Streaming his eyes across the unremitting task, he uses his left hand's forefinger to score a vermilion band through each accomplished engagement.

Preform ( Read more... )

*snickers, shaking his head*
Hebe, sis, I knew you'd blossom into something truly worthy some day. I'm still laughing.

Seth, whenever you're ready.

*amasses his lips into a constricted, sardonic line, rereading the letter that was delivered with the seal of his jubilantly forgotten brother. Odious eyes claw apart the brassy signature, it striking a seasoned and hidden wound within, swiftly fulminating the papyrus in his opened palm; he revels in the small pleasure of watching his brother's ( Read more... )

(Thank you, whoever you are, to the bitch who hacked me E-mail. Carry on.

..Nevermind. Godly power wins over mortal hackers every time.)