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Pasion Pasiva

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Pasion Pasiva last won the day on January 14

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About Pasion Pasiva

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    The Black Queen

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  1. Don't be cautious, don't be kind You committed, I'm your crime Push my button anytime You got your finger on the trigger But your trigger finger's mine Silver dollar, golden flame Dirty water, poison rain Perfect murder, take your aim I don't belong to anyone But everybody knows my name By the way, you've been uninvited 'Cause all you say, are all the same things I did Copycat tryna cop my manner Watch your back when you can't watch mine Copycat tryna cop my glamor Why so sad, bunny? Can't have mine
  2. Oh, once upon a midnight eerie I woke with something in my head I couldn't escape the memory Of a phone call and of what you said Like a game show contestant with a parting gift I could not believe my eyes When I saw through the thoughts of a trusted friend Who needs to humor me and tell me lies, yeah humor me and tell me lies
  3. I'm only pretty sure that I can't take anymore Before you take a swing I wonder what are we fighting for When I say out loud I want to get out of this I wonder is there anything I'm going to miss I wonder how it's going to be When you don't know me How's it going to be When you're sure I'm not there How's it going to be When there's no one there to talk to Between you and me 'Cause I don't care
  4. Yeah, I saw sparks Yeah, I saw sparks And I saw sparks Yeah, I saw sparks Sing it out
  5. No fair You really know how to make me cry When you gimme those ocean eyes
  6. Well somebody told me you had a boyfriend Who looked like a girlfriend That I had in February of last year It's not confidential, I've got potential Ready let's roll onto something new Takin' it's toll then I'm leaving without you 'Cause Heaven ain't close in a place like this I said Heaven ain't close in a place like this Bring it back down, bring it back down tonight (hoo hoo) Never thought I'd let a rumor ruin my moonlight
  7. I will leave my heart at the door I won't say a word They've all been said before, you know So why don't we just play pretend? Like we're not scared of what's coming next Or scared of having nothing left Look, don't get me wrong I know there is no tomorrow
  8. But there's a side to you that I never knew, never knew All the things you'd say, they were never true, never true
  9. And when we come for you We'll be dressed up all in blue With the ocean in our arms Kiss your eyes and kiss your palms And when it's time to pray We'll be dressed up all in grey With metal on our tongues And silver in our lungs
  10. And now all your love will be exorcised And we will find you saying it's to be better now And it's an even sum It's a melody It's a battle cry It's a symphony
  11. Had Gabriela even the slightest inclination that Phoebe was even remotely impressed with the performance that was being played it may have comforted her, and soothed her badly beaten ego. But she could not fathom such a thought crossing the green-eyed woman’s mind -- in the first place, because she had no inclination that she was being read so closely. Of course she had her suspicions at the onset of this strange interaction, but the sheer impossibility of being recognized or targeted here, in the middle of nowhere simply prevented her from following that particular thread. It was foolish, of course, given all that she had gone through during her short time as a human, when her true identity was supposedly all but eradicated. However, her mind was cloudy and even with her best attempts, she could not focus and could not connect even the most obvious of points. And in the second place, it was difficult for Gabriela to imagine her own words as falsehoods when she herself could not remember the truth. More than anguish or hurt, her sudden outburst seemed to stem from a nervous frustration. It was impossibly hard to not be in control. But there was one thing she could control, one thing that at least within her perception of the world, was immediate and all consuming. She could not abide by being the source of such worry and concern, not from this woman, not from a complete stranger who had come been out enjoying a nice stroll, minding her own business, and having a perfectly perfect life. It was not her right and not her place to put other people out. And so it was that she felt pangs of guilt and torture when she dared to glance up at Phoebe’s face and when she saw the delicate cut of apprehension on the bohemian beauty’s face. Immediately she wanted to take it back, she wanted to beg to take it all back and to apologize again. True enough that she wanted the end of the world, and to silence Phoebe and see her eyes close forevermore, just like every other living being that inhabited Valucre, and even beyond -- but it was not for lack of love. Rather, her distress at the state of the world was due to an overabundance of love. And she loathed herself for putting the woman in any position that would cause distress. Golden eyes lifted the regard for Phoebe, and she saw the expression -- a troubling thoughtfulness that she mistook for deep sympathy and concern. Her brows pinched and she swallowed back a fist-sized lump in her throat. Gabriela lied badly, but Phoebe -- she was a masterpiece, and so the former queen became more and more entangled in her own feelings for the woman. It just wasn’t fair to do that to other people. It wasn’t fair or right, or just...to come into people’s lives and do this, whatever this was. As a vampyre, her appearance had been so carefully crafted through generations of breeding to be the most devastating predatory force to humans. She was beautiful, she appeared delicate -- childlike, with her big eyes, her small frame, her very aura. Everything about her was meant to disarm and attract. It was a blessing when it came to hunting humans, a trade in which she had never participated, and a curse in a land like this where she was far from top predator, and all of her strengths turned her into a target. But what did any of that mean now that she was just a human. A ridiculously lovely human, small and pathetically built to survive against basic elements, much less the malice of the world. She had lost her strength and her speed, and most importantly -- the authority her very presence once commanded. And every person whom she had crossed, every poor soul who saw her and saw a damsel in need of rescue -- they all ended up dead. So it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair now to appear weak, or out of sorts -- even if she was, and to turn her parasitic eyes on this particular creature. It wasn’t right, not when she didn’t know what happened, or why, or how. A door slammed shut but Gabriela did not move a muscle. It would seem, perhaps, an uncanny reaction -- to lack a reaction -- when, but a moment ago, she had been so worked up. She was too inwardly turned to have noticed. “...hey.” Phoebe’s voice did what the slamming door failed to do. It brought her back. “You’re going to wear that pretty hard in an hour or so, you know- unless you’ve got a spare liver in there or something, which… I’m just going to assume you don’t, but…” “Liver?” Gabriela tilted her head, like a bird. It took her half a second to realize what the woman was implying, yet another of those things she had never had to worry about in her previous life. But for the sake of not appearing completely dense, she cracked a weak smile and tried to salvage herself from deeper suspicions, “...oh, yeah.” A sprinkle of color crossed her face when Phoebe’s hands settled, palm up, on the table between them, and her long fingers wiggled and the rings on those fingers glinted as they caught the light. Gabriela couldn’t be certain it was an invitation, but it sure felt like one and for some reason it caused her to warm and grow somewhat bashful. She wanted to extend her own hands and place them there, in the safety of those lovely pianist fingers and to be encased within those silver rings. But she couldn’t move. “Look, I don’t know how shit your day has been, or your year, or your life…” Gabriela sat and listened. She didn’t sink into her own mind, and refused to let the rising tides of anxiety pull her away. This moment was important. These words were valuable. She listened, and inclined closer. “...but am I going to sit around and mope over it.” Somehow, someway, while Phoebe spoke of her woes and troubles with a gentleman, Gabriela had leaned so far forward that her elbow had come to rest on the table, and from there, somehow and someway, her small hand had landed in the green-eyed woman’s clasp. Now she felt the squeeze, and it was a thrill because Phoebe was so warm, and so soft, and the metal of her rings felt cool and hard in comparison, and Gabriela could not stop focusing on it, or on the words, or on the shape that the woman’s lips made as she spoke the words. She saw everything and felt everything. “No. I’m going to reconcile my books, find equity, and balance, again.. All of which require that I act. You’ve got to act, Isabella, balance your scales - take back what’s yours. What do you want? If you could have anything, what would you have? It’s all possible, you know - every bit of it - so let’s figure it out.” Has temptation ever been this soft? Had it ever come this gentle and this delicate? No -- it was always rough and demanding, it was insisted on complete surrender. Temptation, at the devil’s behest, was a hard and ugly thing. The smell of apples caused her eyes to flutter and close for a moment. Her mouth, which moments ago had been bone-dry, was suddenly overflowing with anticipation. And that’s when she realized that the Serpent in the garden had never been a male -- no, that surely was a mistake in translation, or perhaps a purposeful misinterpretation. But the truth of it was here before her now. She thought of devils and angels alike, and how they were without gender, but had always been presented as male -- at least him, the father of lies. But no, that was all wrong. Here was the true Serpent, and here was true temptation, and it came in the shape of a beautiful woman with green eyes. “You don’t want me to get what I want, believe me… No one does.” And it was more than she had ever said on the matter, more than she had uttered to Roen, more than she had admitted to those who swore fidelity to her, more than she perhaps had ever admitted aloud. Moreover, the power that these spoken words had given her caused her to recoil from the touch, and to thus, pull her hands away and set them once more on her lap under the table. “I mean to say, I want to go home…” there, that wasn’t so much a lie as not a specification of the truth. Home, her true home, was the cool darkness of his realm. And she wanted that not just for herself, but for everyone. Peace. Quiet. Rest. “I don’t think anyone would be happy if I went back home, besides it just being impossible…”
  12. “Isabella..” She physically recoiled from the name -- from her name, from her mother’s name. That creature of sorrow and shadow, that wicked woman who drank blood poisoned by terror. And it wasn’t until this very moment, hearing that name spoken so soft and easy from his lips that she felt a surge of disgust rise up like bile in her throat. Why in the world had she picked that name? At the onset of what was to be her new life, why had she picked her mother’s name? “You’re bleeding again..” Since uttering his name, what felt like eons ago, she had fallen into a troubled sleep. It had been too hard to stay awake, and the cold, and the hurt had lulled her off to serenity of her obsidian dreams, for there were no nightmares now, no more visions of unknown infants choking on black blood, no neglect or aloneness. Rest, rest, rest -- whispered her blood, and she listened. He would be the first, and perhaps the last to bear witness to Tenebre’s mark. The bond was impossible to break, and had little and less to do with her having been a vampyre, and everything to do with who she was. The proof was inescapable now, but Saul would never understand the magnitude of what he saw, and she wouldn’t remember. Of course she should have been dead, but she wasn’t. And as he came upon her, half buried in the toxic muck of the marshlands, what he’d see -- what his voice would bring to life -- were the two massive black wings, made of a lusterless black substance, and unlike the ick that he compelled, seemed without true mass or density, and yet appeared depthless in color. There was no indication of detail, save for the tapered edges of the feathers. The mass of the wings themselves, they were without feature, and seemed more like cutouts straight out of the fabric of reality. And at the sound of his voice, they spread open and lifted up and then dispersed like black smoke into the air. It would take some investigation or perhaps guessing to come to the conclusion that the tendrils of darkness had kept her alive. That somehow the emptiness of the abyss had managed to produce heat enough to keep her human body living, and had nurtured her well enough to fend off the most savage of infections that only now began to fester along the multitude of open cuts and scratches. She quickened, but only enough to lift her head -- half her face wore a mask of sludge. There he was -- there was Saul. There was a glint of gold from this creature as her eyes peered up at him from the disgusting ceast pool of slushy mud. She hardly seemed human, and not at all the woman he had been with just a day ago. And he most certainly was not the man she remembered -- the man she saw when her eyes closed and she tried, desperately, to recall where she was and who she was with -- or why. “Saul…” she spoke his name again, but it sounded confused and uncertain on her tongue. “Come here, please. Who did this? How did you crash? Where is everyone else?” Pins and needles attacked her brain as she tried to recall answers to questions that made no sense. She grimaced and resisted the urge to sink her face back into the mud. Instead, she began to pull herself out of it -- but with a recently dislocated arm, and with a heavily soaked cloak, and with all the other unnamed hurts and pains, it was proving impossible. She tried, and then pathetically fell back down. “Crash...what crash? Everyone -- who?” The last she recalled was sitting in her bed, tempting him into her arms with blood dripping from her toes and vodka on her breath. She remembered the clean, white flesh of her bare belly, and his hands -- wide and of a darker shade -- roaming across her legs. And an embrace, a tight and meaningful hold that had conveyed to her much more than was probably ever intended. But his questions interjected her memories with static like stabs of white noise. Her brain burned in agony at these white patches of erased time and space as she tried so hard to fixate on the meaning. “What crashed? Who -- who did what? Everyone… where is everyone? What happened, Saul? Why am I here? What happened to us?”
  13. Lovely intro post! Thank you for your hard work on this event.
  14. I hope my posts was okay!

    1. Mickey Flash

      Mickey Flash

      🥰 Loved it. 

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