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The Hair Rant by XueLian
D: Mine is silver,
A: Mine is gold,
D: Mine is younger—yours is old.
A: Mine is longer,
D: Mine's got bounce,
A: Ladies like hair in copious amounts.
D: I've got bangs—you grew yours out.
A: That's what long hair's all about!
D: I've got 'flip',
A: Well, I've got 'swish',
And more hair than any Esca bish!
D: Mine is shiny!
A: Mine is BLOND!
D: Which means you're an airhead like Lily Frond.*
A: You're just jealous.
D: No, I'm proud.
Hair that long shouldn't be allowed.
A: Meticulous care, brushed every hour…
D: Who'd want to waste half their life in the shower?
A: Mine wafts in the wind,
D: Mine glows with the flame,
A: I even gave mine a name!
(D: O.o *backs away*)
D: Mine's silky soft,
A: My hair is my soul!
D: I'd like to see yours cut under a bowl.
A: I've n
The Butterfly Dream
The Butterfly Dream
I dreamed I was a butterfly
in a garden ablaze
with flame azaleas,
lilies, and roses,
and tall, fragrant trees.
My wings, of tiny silken feathers, were scarlet,
like a maple leaf in autumn,
fluttering in a chill wind—
Crimson, edged with plush ebony.
And in this brilliant, sun-filled garden
I was never alone.
My companions had wings of indigo,
midnight blue, iridescent
when they caught the light,
when they moved in flight.
I led them in a breathless dance
over and around the flowers,
hour on elated hour.
We hid in the leaves
of the tall, fragrant trees,
(but not very well
because of our brightness and color)
Trembling patches of light dappled our wings.
Then, in the sequel to my dream
intruded a boy
who liked to play hero
with a sword in one hand;
the sword of a king.
In his other hand, for some strange reason,
he held a candle
dripping hot wax,
which burned tiny holes
in the blades of grass
as I watched with
Boku wa on'nanoko! Master listAn Escaflowne semiAU-Movie fanfiction.
Movie DilandauOC. Childfic. They met in Zaibach labs, only the fittest will see a new day and the most skilled prevail. Both are part of an experiment to raise the best captains and soldiers, they must fight to the death other children. Elements of the Film, Anime/Mangas & CD dramas. Twenty-seven is an amnesiac boyish girl with psionic powers and Dilandau ─Twenty-one─ a half draconian boy who was raised by wolves.
The links are in the description bellow.
La Ra Everlasting Frost: Ch5Chapter 5 - Castle in the Forest
Folken stayed in that room, in that chair, until the sun began to rise the next morning. He was well aware of the Dragon Slayers watching him from the door, but at the moment, he couldn't spare the concentration it would take to notice them, or to explain what, exactly, he was doing. He was the Strategos of Zaibach; he didn't need to explain anything. And this would take a great deal of explaining, should they confront him. But they didn't stay long, in any case; they grew weary, and bored, and they left.
Hours passed, and he did not find Dilandau. Folken began to seriously wonder if the Dragon Slayers' commander was even alive. No, he told himself, if Dilandau were dead, he could still locate the body. His heart whispered that Dilandau lived yet. That Folken could not find Dilandau must have something to do with the dragon's shadow, he decided. Early in the morning, he came to that
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La Ra Everlasting Frost: Ch4Chapter 4 - The Way of Things
A chill wind blew through the unknown world as the sun sank and the two figures knelt in the middle of the dead garden.
"What's a Drifter?" Dilandau asked.
"What's a Drifter?" Arias laughed pleasantly. "You don't know? Why, you're one. I'm one."
"But, what is it?" Dilandau pressed, anger seeping into his voice. His hand tightened around the stalk of the dead flower that he had been picking apart, crushing the brittle stem with a weak crunch.
Arias leaned forward and tapped Dilandau's cheek with a dirty finger. "A Drifter is someone with no control over his destiny. We just drift through our lives without purpose, and end up wherever fate takes us. Now, the ones with the kismet marks on their faces are the Artisans. They can control their fates."
Dust and ShadowDust and Shadow by Angel of the Odd
"Pulvis et umbra sumus"-Horace, Odes, IV ("We are but dust and shadow")
In this cold, mechanical city, it's easy to forget. The stench of human bodies crowded together in cramped spaces. The sour stench of disease from the infirmaries. The fetid rank of cheap alcohol and cheaper sex in the tavern. These are the scents that permeate Zaibach.
This is a kingdom of outcasts, of lost souls. Broken and bleeding, we came to seek refuge. A place where we could pick up the shattered pieces of our past and move towards the dawn of a glorious new future. Or so we believed. Perhaps, we needed to cling to something, anything, even if in our hearts we knew it was a false ideal. We were desperate to stop the painful flow of memories and, in this cold, mechanical city it's easy to forget.
La Ra Everlasting Frost: Ch1Chapter 1 - The Lion, the Magician, and the Cage
The black leather of his gloves creaking, he leaned against the cold metal railing and gazed down in satisfaction at the smoldering ruin below him. Smoke still drifted up from the glowing embers of the city-of the entire country-stinging his nostrils. He breathed the smoke in deeply. The fires had burned hot, for the smoke to come this high. Another would have coughed and turned away from the heat of the fires when they had raged in their full force. But he-he had walked among them like the god of death himself. The fire was the lifeblood that ran through his veins. As a rose reaches to the sun for its life, he, the poison flower, drew upon the fire for his strength.
Thin, wiry hands tightened around the railing. Large eyes of a frightening crimson narrowed in anger. Those fires down there also marked a failure. The Emperor had finally gi
La Ra Everlasting Frost: Ch2Chapter 2 - The Price of a Human Life
Dilandau woke in chains.
That, he soon found as he came to full consciousness, was not his largest problem, but it was, perhaps, his most immediate one. That, and the fact that he was sitting on the floor of an iron-barred prison.
No, it wasn't a prison. It was a cage, because it was outside, in some sort of marketplace. At least, since he could see a merchant selling brightly colored cloth across the street, he assumed that he was in a marketplace. Prisons weren't usually out in the open, in the view of the ordinary citizens. But the cage, too, was not his largest problem.
He had been stripped. Someone had relieved him of his sword, his armor-of everything, including his clothes. Like the several other people who stood with him, he was as naked as the day he was born. A road-thief had probably found
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