I’ll be moving over accounts - but I won’t be openly linking it. So if anyone at all is interested, write me in, and I’ll gladly give you the new. A fresh new start never hurts, yeah?

Oh, and what fine details have surpassed even my own vision - something of the More, than What Was. No matter watch architecture my eyes may run down upon, a mechanical regard deducing it into so little - but to see what stone it was made out of, the simplest of concretes or the knowledge of what made a building brick from brick. The air - the altitude, the corrections and the most basic of understandings, presented and using them as tools of war. Never was there that depth, as we ran down these splintered paths, you feeling, swift - cunning, and so full of hope. I, forgetful - my gears breaking down of a previous concept of what I was, a hollow shell - brainwashed, loss of memory and plagued with the lack of you.

But I look back now, and see you. Dogs among the swine, and our stature so awkward - our hands formed not from the same material to make us stand out among these men, be spat at and called rejects. Myself, I bear these words - bastard, devil, demon with righteousness of what I have done. To you, and others - so ravaging, so brutal. A corrosive part of the decay, that you were not part of. You never were. You look at me, you grin - you say you are there, and that you will not leave - that you will always be there. Oh, and that stirs something from me, awkward canine giving some gesture, ears pulled back to suggest some emotion, and some feeling.

You and I, of the same soul. You say you will not leave me, and you will follow me constantly - and never again shall we part.

Silently, I promise you, that I will be there, too. No matter how scarred, torn apart, we both may be.

You promise.

… And I believe you.

Let us not manipulate ourselves into a false stupor, serpentine maggot - who doth hide himself behind a million faces, a million skins and stools. Tell me, do they compensate for the many lives on worlds, you have reaped? Only to be justified upon a sudden epiphany? But nay! That is not quite so - nor will it ever be. You and I know both of this lingering evil - so a terrible gloom that plagues the sky of a world not our own. I reckon you need assistance? …No? Well, you are arrogant - and even in your pride, truth eats at your very soul. Prodding at the gluttonous thing you are. I, bleeding, dripping menace who skull cannot stop grinning remain - while your time runs out.

Our lives - no, their lives are such precious little tokens aren’t they? But corroded, rotten. Tick tock, you may be able to save them - but you are wasting precious resources to save their world. Hiss at me, snap and poison me you malevolent beast! I am the neutral party - and yet I can help you.

Tear my pelt, see, who’s side is the true. Yes, I am here. Speak to me, and follow - and we will then dictate if you are rotted maggot or some glorified hero.”

Lovely contemplation of sketches by mothbane.

Thank you very much and despite what you may think, none of these actually fail - even if you are a lazy butt and can’t even upload this yourself. I love these too much I really really doo~

More spam to follow for you, sir, more spam to follow!

<sub>The salty air that stained my breath,
the simple sand that would quickly retreat after each step in its silken earth.
Every cry of the gull that come to past - every wave that struck the rock, I knew.
I knew that this was my home, bound and anchored to this glorious thing that was the sea.
What was nothing, but was everything.
The tales of beasts would not warrant a retreat, for no.
You all, so foolish - fail to recognise the true beasts are on land.
They are yourselves.
The march of progression, the killing of lands riches.
Its life - and only does the serpent’s eye see.
Coiling around death, to witness the decay, baring not his fangs.
For patience is to be had, when deaths are in vain, in cold blood.
Not his own, but many more.

Had it not been for you, my awkward brother, I would have set sail long ago.
Feel at home once at the seas - even if before my death.
A serpent’s soul, where many of his kin had long sense been.
Those monsters, simple homage and nothing more.

Tell me, had I gone - and the serpent’s eye had turned, nevermore watchful, what had it done?

It was your home, your cause - I followed. Never my own.

Cocky eagle, I could have clashed with you, many times before. Fangs buried, while your beak tear through scales. But not so, these two sides of me. Acceptance, you offered, and as a whole, so reluctantly I stayed.</sub>

-

Slightly inspired by this.

His Thousand Eyes, watching him.
As if but a hawk - but not, and those eyes, so precise - not just his own!
Something of mechanical wonders, of desire and gleam.
Reminding him that he too, was his little machine.
But no - he was not, that dog, uncollared but so awkwardly bound.
He snapped and turned, struck at his half, but never his master.
Never the taint that had corrupted him, but at his soul.
The pigs?
Not this dog’s worry, but the one.
There was hope for the metal arm - but yet!
Just before the swine had aimed to snap his little pet.
Break him in two - as if that robot waltzed free from his grasp, none can have.
None can have, but the aggressor.
The Blue Eyed beast that the King would too, have dead.

The night was clouded once more with ash - the air dead and ringing with an all too familiar sound of marching footsteps against the broken ground. The humming of their ships, so noticeable, so aggravating with its constant, rhythmical harmony of gears and flame tossing and churning inside those wretched machines. Those machines, to us - looking like monsters instead of just plain ships. What was simply a machine to us, was destructive and so toxic. To be feared, ran from.

Oh, but lie beneath them was the true terror. Those hollow masks, in representation of what that lightening tower had drawn forth from the earth. More flames, scorching terror and death - but this time, in the form of our own flesh. Buried beneath armour, and uniforms. An incarnate of what we were, and contorted into a more nightmarish frame. Where we did not have faces, nor rational thought.

We were monsters, marching on feverishly so - us, our brother and blood, turned cold and bitter. The only pure would be in rebellion, or the masses that have long sense fled from this city of ruin, but where many were just the same! Little refuge, under the reign of the Swine King.

Perhaps it was a blessing - this old Commander of the King. Callous, seeming - but with more remorse and more calculation than the man so easily seen before these hollowed souls. Red eyes, two as opposed to one, standing in their own terror. Mechanical insanity, something both delightful and corrupting - so evident in his gaze! The lapdog, the shock collar, as if too, an emissary of that electric tower. If not its incarnate itself.

His power unstable, and his own demons having their lives on their line in his presense. Quick to make them suffer, as much as us and our blessed cities. Our architecture, our lives. The screaming of his manic voice, barking out orders or laughing - soon followed by more destruction, explosions. A removal of his helmet, showed the terror had a face, much alike us.

Something human, in a monster. Something that can easily be seen in us all. Something I have seen countless times, and will continuously to this day. I will act as if I was innocent in my days, and that I was an ordinary civilian, but no. I am more, but less than my fellows. An infiltrator, an instigator. This very terror, I may too, have to serve for, and in such an act, once more I will plead for my forgiveness.

Claus, Lucas, Donovich — and the list goes on! Those who oppose to this march. Another battle, will soon commence. We know, our lives are in danger, countless times as we watch our own kin be butchered like the pigs that rule.

I, the serpent will say this now - that we, just as much as they always take part in that walk. Constantly, endlessly.

The March.

-Thomas Montgomery, The Serpent’s Eye