I'm tired of waiting to kill Lord Paxton. The very thought of him makes me sick to my stomach. I went to the catacombs today, hoping to find a man who looked like him, but the only thing I found was a tall skinny man without teeth who hadn't had a bath in at least a year. His stinch reminded me of Lord Paxton. I loved plunging the lase blade into his heart. I felt myself stabing him over and over again. There was nothing left when I was finished. Still my appetite remains unquinched.
That sniveling weasel Lord Cyrus isn't much better. He thinks he is in charge. I always have to play him like a puppet. Dance puppet, dance...let the world see you for what you are. My puppet. I have to make him dance to my beat. Little joke for my own account. even still, controling Lord Cyrus can be so tiring. He is so impulsive, it almost would feel good to let him betray himself. Such an idiot.
I am constantly surrounded by idiots and can't do a thing about it. I can't wait until the Overlord unties my hands and let's me run wild on all the idiots that surround me. Lucky for me, Zolla the person whose mind I turned, had a nervous breakdown. I am waiting for approval to use the bakc up plan. I'm going to take everything from Lord Paxton with his own hands. AAAAhhhh, the freedom of it all.
I have a difficult time believing no one can see the bond between Stavon, Lord Cyrus' son and that daughter of the Coumalarie slug Lord Paxton. Though she does have the look of her mother, the Lady Helene. She should have never turned me down. Her life would be so much better if only she would've been mine. Of course we wouldn't have that idiot daughter, Sheria...give of light...how pathetic.
About Me
- Joann H. Buchanan
- The love of the written word is like a drug. A single thought can turn into miles across the ocean or a night in bed with someone you love. They are the very essence of my soul; I breathe them in everyday just to live. My heroes aren't the people who are rich and famous. They are the ones who aren't afraid to tattoo my heart with the words they write. The shadows between the pages are the undiscovered worlds and minds of the person who writes them.