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Mark of the BattlemageSince the beginning of human civilization, man has always fought and destroyed each other. However, this fighting has drawn the attention of other beings. Demons who dwell in the spirit realm seek access to our plain of existence in order to experience being mortal. The demons can enter our realm from any area that has seen a great deal of death. Those demons that escaped into our world sought out emotions of anger, fear and hatred in order to gain strength. As the demons became more numerous, a secret code with the human genes became active in several individuals around the world. These people realized that they possess abilities never seen in this world. Aside from being able to see the demons' true forms, these individuals see that they possess battle magic, enhancing both their physical abilities and more importantly, the magic can be transferred to their weapons. By this process, their weapons become both significantly larger and far stronger than any man-made weapon. As well, eac
Old Enemies New Targets part 2That event started a war which lasted one year. The Sand did come to the aid of the Leaf, but the war was not going well for the Leaf until one important event. The Cloud and Stone decided to launch a massive two pronged invasion of the Leaf. One part was a diversion to draw away the main forces of the Sand to defend their own village and another to draw away the majority of the Leaf forces. The real invasion was to come from the south of the Leaf, with several hundred Stone shinobi supported by a few dozen Cloud ninja. This force encountered no resistance until getting close to the Leaf. Saion had found out about the invasion plans barely a few hours before it began. Unfortunately the Leaf's forces had already left, so Saion went to intercept the main invasion force. When he finally encountered the vanguard of the invasion force, he easily eliminated this force thanks to his arsenal of elemental justu. With the vanguard eliminated, Saion had left the invasion force blind without the a
Lost timesLost times
Walking down a street she knows very well, a young woman with a left mechanical eye travels light and fast, she knows better than to attract attention to herself. Passing the broken windows and smashed down doors, this street usually has good things to scavenge, but so far she's had no luck. It's like somebody's already been through this area and taken all the good things. Walking around a corner, the young woman sees what she was afraid of. Fifteen men and women on custom built motorcycles, armed with an array of chains, blades and a few firearms. Gripping one of the knives on her left thigh, the young woman whispers under her breath, "Satan's riders." One of the Satan's riders hears the young woman's mutter and turns around. The young woman has seen many things in her life, but the sight of this man's face nearly causes her to vomit. His entire lower jaw is missing, replaced by a mechanical piece, and the right side of his head had a steel plate welded onto it. Plate head
Old Enemies, New TargetsEvening, inside the Hokage mansion of the Leaf village, a four month old baby starts crying in her crib. Her mother, Ginnia Uzubaki reaches into the crib and wraps her daughter's light blue blanket, covered in the symbols of the Leaf and several red ten-pointed stars, around her little body. Making sure Yuiia is warm, Ginnia picks up her daughter and cradling her in her arms, Ginnia begins to soothe Yuiia's crying. Walking through the mansion Ginnia, still carrying Yuiia, runs into her younger sister Ginnianna. In two years, Ginnianna has not changed much. She's still the same strong, hot-headed kunoichi she's always been. Only things that have changed are her rank, Ginnianna's been a Jonin now for almost two years, and her clothing, drawing even more eyes to her. Ginnianna is so happy to see her sister and her niece. Coming up close, Ginnianna strokes the hair on Yuiia's head and looks at Ginnia, "She looks just like you sis." Ginnia, kissing Yuiia's forehead replies, "She looks like
When she criesWhen She cries
water and blood flow
falling to the earth.
As I watch, I look down
to the hand where the knife rests
I look into her blood-shot eyes
and I see the pain she suffers
when she cries
The Power of two heartsIn the land of Lightning, Aaiyame the Akatsuki member travels the rough landscape trying to hunt down the hiding place of the jinchurikis of the 8, 9, 12 and 13-tails. The information Madara Uchiha has collected tells her that Killer Bee, the 8-tails jinchuriki is a large man who prefers swords and bad rap. Naruto Uzumaki, the 9-tails jinchuriki is a young man with blonde hair who has a tendency to charge into situations often without thinking, he should be easy to take care of. There is not much information about the 12-tails jinchuriki, other than that she's from the Sand village and that she has cat-like features. Finally flipping through the bingo book, Aaiyame comes across his face. Saion Auma, the jinchuriki of the 13-tails Phoenix and the last known member of the Auma clan. Aaiyame still thinks back to that day when, instead of killing her, Saion spared her despite her having kidnapped one of his students and trying to capture him. She doesn't know why, but she cannot get his fa
There is someone I must saveIt's been two weeks since Team 15 nearly lost their leader to the Akatsuki, and during that time Saion has been resting in the hospital due to the tremendous damage his body has endured. Despite the phoenix's healing abilities, the extent of the damage is too great for quick healing. Lady Tsunade, Saion's physician, is examining his chart while Saion rests in the hospital bed with his neck, left shoulder, both arms, chest, and right leg bandaged, "Well Saion. Looks like you won't be getting out of here anytime soon." Tsunade says, "Lady Tsunade. Isn't there anything you can do that will get me out of here sooner?" Saion pleads, "There is no medical ninjustu in this world that can heal all of your injuries. You just need rest and time. You'll stay here for about three more weeks, then you'll need about four more weeks of light work before you're fully recovered." Saion's heart sinks with this news as Tsunade exits the room. Sinking back into the pillow, Saion can
The Auma tale part 2Ginnianna is on the verge of tears. First she was forced to leave her sensei and friend to fight all eight Akatsuki, knowing that not even he could stand for very long against 8 S-rank ninja. Then she had to watch as he was carried off like a trophy by Kisame, by far her most hated Akatsuki member. And now she's lying with her face in the mud with Kisame pushing his foot into her back directly between her shoulder blades, pinning her and preventing her from fighting back. All Ginnianna can see are Shion and Taiun trying desperately to fight Itachi with Shion's insects and taijustu along with Taiun trying to use a Genjustu powerful enough to ensnare Itachi while Saion's unconscious body is lying on top of Kisame's sword. Ginnianna puts her arms under her body and tries to get up, but Kisame simply pushes down with his foot on her back, forcing her back into the mud and smiling down at her, Kisame cruelly tells her, "Forget it, girly. Nothing you can do will work on me. And any of your n
The Auma tale part 1Resting on the top of one of the tallest trees in the forest on the border of the land of fire is a young 16 year old Jonin of the Leaf Village. His flak jacket unbuttoned to cool off, he rests his head against the trunk of the tree, letting his short dark brown hair flutter in the breeze. His name is Saion of the once great Auma clan, before it was nearly eradicated by their sworn enemy, the Uchiha clan. As he rests against the tree, waiting for his chunin team to return, he lets his left leg dangle off the tree and in the sunlight his dark brown pants and red sleeveless shirt are plainly visible, the colours of his clan which he wears with honour. What is more visible to any other shinobi in the area are the arm and leg armour that Saion wears at all time from his year in the ANBU black ops. Gazing across the forest towards the land of Earth, Saion lets his mind wander, thinking back to past missions. A slight smirk runs across his face as he fondly remembers the time when 2 years ag
I locked my heart in a mahogany box and threw away the key.
There was no one to care for - there was nothing left for me.
My heart had ceased beating long ago
after years of misery and pain.
Through countless highs and lecherous lows
I became immune to pounding rain.
I walked without even my shadow as a friend.
Numb to all emotions that surfaced to my skin.
Knowing I would be alone to the bitter end
suffering the consequences of sin.
I was shunned and shamed -
bruised and maimed.
No one cared - no one knew.
No one bothered to change my view.
My life was a silent movie
of a language no one spoke.
With plenty of plot holes for all to see
and an ending of mirrors and smoke.
It was getting hard to catch my breath.
Surely death would be oh so sweet.
Addicted to the thought like Crystal Meth,
it skipped through my head like an erratic beat.
She stumbled upon a key that washed up on the shore.
Wondering what it could unlock.
Determined to solve the riddle and explor
if we were to never speak again.In silence absolute
I almost forgot you,
I almost remembered to forget
you, lonely afternoon
of naked breath,
the softness of sunset
as it rakes along my skin.
The nonchalance of the sky
almost unbearably falters
an outbreak of tears
weigh down my hair
memory of your touch,
memory of your heart,
eyes blinking through the rain
glimpses of turquoise-
blue souls dancing, but
not quite entwined.
claws into my brows,
furrows the flesh
rivulets of thought
that tear through my nervous system
cellular tinnitus, reverberations
in my spinal column,
raising mountains from
my body, darklight clouds
ghosting in the peripheries
of my vision
memory of your touch,
memory of your heart,
a lyrical tattoo
of ripened countryside
a vibrant concerto
washed between us
tidal colour drowning,
from your sweet humour
to my aching sternum
the cliffs fall away
and autumn breaks in upon us,
auburn sorrows of light
I Write to a Lover Who Doesn't ExistYou must've noticed how I was left bleeding
Because all you could do was stare
At me with those gemstones you call eyes.
We danced around bookshelves in the mystery section
Pretending not to notice each other
And ignoring the fact that our eyes kept meeting.
I wonder now that if we'd danced in the romance section
Would we have still ignored that part of ourselves?
And after all, aren't mysteries ment to be solved?
You must wash your hair with sunflower petals and pomegranate seeds
Because your aroma is that of a goddess
And I was attracted to you as quickly
As if you had called my name.
Would you call my name?
And would you say yours as well
Because although I have a feeling you go by Aphrodite,
We have not yet acquainted ourselves.
thuggish loverno more on love. tell me
instead of the hearts you've
beaten, and the way
they kept on
I shrug into Harry's shirt
underneath my autumn scarf--
cologne on the cuffs bringing
color as I close my eyes,
the brown of his hair,
laughter, pine green.
Fingers on marbled buttons
smooth as the cream
he puts in his chai.
I think of him like rain on a Sunday,
a slow breath uttered in calm,
eyes shut to listen,
he is peace,
stability in grayer moments.
He is the space in my empty bed
I ache for him the way
I crave prayer and
the feel of a rosary.
lukedon't leave me again;
the seasons flutter by with
the blink of spider web eyelashes
twirled around the pieces of
my decaying heart, molded
and renewed with the dawn
of your spring palms.
my senses spark in a
drunken flood of desire;
i refuse to wash away
our finger-painted memories
into the grasping swallow of
an atlantic undertow, but
the stale taste of vodka
sleeps under my palette.
you don't arc your silver
tongue to sip my salted
gums or latch your fists
into bird's nest tangled curls
--anymore, and the shivers
of shadows spin down my
splintered spine, the snap
of a twig between your
i'm alone; your cosmic dreams
and galactic eroticism treads
underneath another damsel's
breast, an arrow to her heart.
I wallow, naked and discarded,
drinking and drowning in the
alcoholic buzz of your sweat
on my tongue, all along knowing
you and i will never love again.
If I Were A Love PoetFor my Laban. For my love.
Sometimes, often enough
when my thoughts are consumed
with you- I find myself wishing
that I was a love poet.
Wouldn’t it be beautiful
to piece words together so artistically
that I could make people understand
what it’s like to miss hands
that have never held me?
Wouldn’t it be the damnedest thing,
if I could make a stranger
know how it feels to kiss you?
Sweetly, passionately, softly
Hesitantly- and yet all at once?
Even though their lips have never met yours,
Even though our lips have never met.
How lovely would it be
to sanely, yet romantically
explain to my parents what it’s like
to fall asleep with you?
We could tell them how you giggle when I beg you
to be the big spoon- because I feel like it’s to much responsibility.
We could tell them about the sleepy kisses you give me
at 3 a.m when you find me searching for
Make me a soulMake me a soul next to yours,
Make it small so you can hold it in your hands,
Make it blue like in the morning to wake up in you,
Make it strong to cry in silence when you've gone.
Make me a heart as big as the sun,
Make it warm, make it good,
Good to love, good to give, good to pray,
Make it beat for us, for you, for God.
Make me hands to feel,
Make them pure to touch,
Make them soft to caress,
Make them hard to live.
Make me a voice to sing your beauty,
Make it calm when you fall,
Make it sweet when you're mad,
Make it say 'I need you'.
Make me eyes to see you when you're working,
Even if you don't notice me.
Make them big so you can see yourself in them,
Make them deep so they'll be your refuge.
Take my whole existence and seal it with a kiss,
But make me lips to know you love me.
Make me love to know I live.
Make me know that I can dream.
Make me a soul, please.
Make me yours.
IridescentShe dances along the lines of poetry,
Her curls wind amongst the words
And I lie in love with each syllable
That is touched by her.
Thinking off her is not enough
She wraps round each thought
Like iron wrought ribbon -
In decadent dance
She caresses italics,
Winding her way through
Every dream with ethereal grace.
Iridescent, she taught me colour
Oh seraphim, but I am red, and
She lies in margins blue!
Forever my forbidden phallus,
She is everything taboo.
HerPain and love....
It's what I always feel around her
That there must be something I can do to help
I guess just being there and listening can do it for now
But it is so hard to just sit there and not be able to reach out and just
hold her and tell her that things will get better
That she can depend on me to be there for her
I want to be
But I don't know if she wants it
Whenever I try to ask, my tongue sticks to the back of my throat and my lips dry out.
All I can do is watch and listen to her and the pain she suffers
Even though it cannot be seen
I feel there is a glass wall between us
No matter how hard I try, I cannot break through
Only she can open the wall and let me in
But I don't know if she will
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More