Angelic-Elf-Ivy

Chapter one There's a famous quote that I remember, said by one of the first successful reanimated beings. He said, "If the undead could cry, the oceans would overflow". I would have to agree. If I could cry, I wouldn't be able to stop. The naturally magical always take us for being strong willed, but in reality, we're just unable to cry. We're unable to form tears, just like we're unable to produce acid to digest food or mucus. We "live" to see far too many horrors, yet, most of what we see we can do nothing about. That's what hurts the most out of anything. Being able to do nothing. Like here and now. My creator, so to say, apparently

Mort Vivant Prologue A tall man with long, black hair tied in a loose ponytail walked casually towards the body left lying on the ground. No burial had been expected to be granted to the poor corpse in front of him. He knelt down, trailing gloved fingers over the cold flesh of the boy's body before his fingers came to the open wound in his chest. He saw the heart that had gingerly been placed back where it belonged and smiled at the fact that whomever had come to examine the body hadn't bothered to remove what he'd put back. He moved his right hand beside the wound and pressed gently, pushing the open gash as closed as he can without hurti

Chapter four I lay on the ground outside Black Jack's house staring up at the bright white sky in wonder. At night it was a deep purple, but in the day it was a bright white with the clouds seeming to be the little glimpses into my world that one occasionally saw. Somehow, it didn't seem so unusual anymore despite the short amount of time I had been granted to grow use to such things. It was me, after all, who chose to return here and stay for a while. It was me, after all, who had chose to come back to this world of unusual happenings and malicious men named "Vaughn" despite how many times I had been warned that I would be in constant dange

Prologue A small, lanky boy stepped forward, uncertainty painted on his thin face. He looked out before him at the masses of wealthy people that had gathered for the auction. Each of them watched him; examined him, searched for any possible flaw in his appearance. He swallowed hard and willed the crowd to not react as so many others before had, but no amount of sheer will could prevent their eyes from finding his own. At the end of their search, once their eyes met his, he knew it would happen again, just as it had happened so many times prior. A scream erupted from somewhere within the crowd, and he flinched. He knew why she had screamed,