Post by Red Mantle on Jul 10, 2016 12:57:55 GMT -5
THEY JUST KEEP COMING BACK FOR MORE, YOU'D THINK JEHOVAH'S WITNESSES.
A full Digital Moon hangs over the Necropolis, casting its silver light onto the shadowy buildings that stretched to the sky, penetrating the twisting alleys and streets so that all but the darkest of nooks and crannies were spared from her watchful gaze. Not even the cast iron street lamps, the only sources of illumination in this world of perpetual darkness, could pierce the choking blanket of fog that had rolled in several hours earlier. Digimon of a vile and sinister nature roamed the streets in search of blood and battle, as well as more damnably transcendent terrors.
In spite of all the evils of this unforgivable place of torment and despair, much of it was localized within the great stone walls that stretched around the Necropolis, sealed off from the rest of the Digital World behind a massive gate of iron bars. Above this portal to Hell itself lies a plaque, embellished with rusted lettering that spelled out the final message to any soul and all who were condemned to roam here for eternity: "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here."
Just like this sign and the Moon in the heavens, the Red Mantle quietly cast his observant gaze to the Necropolis below from the safety of an empty gargoyle's plinth, mounted high atop a sprawling cathedral's bell tower. His arms were folded into one another, tucked against his chest even as the occasional draft threatened his sense of balance. He did not belong in this torturous realm, this white-haired swordsman, yet his vigilant posture and unflinching expressions indicated that his presence in the Necropolis was not without purpose.
Giving credence to this theory, at the base of the Gothic structure, was the warrior's Digimon partner, Blue –– and yet, he also wasn't. Rather, he had concealed his true form behind an image-cloaking device the Mantle had purchased not too long ago, using it as a way to further mask his identity and that of his friend's from public eyes; you never knew who was on the lookout these days. As it currently was, all that stood by the door in place of a Veemon was a tall, young-looking, blue-haired man dressed in a matching color jumpsuit with metallic accoutrements, evocative of the lancers of ancient times.
"C'mon, Red. What're you doin' up dere?" Blue whispered to himself, crossing his arms as he cast a wayward glance to the steeple directly above his location. He had been surveying the Necropolis for what seemed like ten minutes –– ten minutes longer than any, living creature, human or Digimon, should be spending inside this place. He grimaced in disgust at the sudden arrival of a less-than-pleasant aroma, leaning against a nearby statue of decorative armor as he examined a spear, scarlet red and veined, gripped inside one of its gauntlets. This place reeked of death.
It was not a topic that the Mantle was willing to discuss out in the open, for his instincts told him to keep all word on the matter totally mum from others. It was a burden he chose to carry on his own, and all who objected could rightfully line up and sod off. It was not something he could divulge to Blue, either, for he would likely start bearing down over his shoulders in resistance. No, nobody could know why he chose to come to the Necropolis of his own accord.
There was someone here. It was a presence he was certain he had not felt in decades, a presence that sent the hairs on his neck standing on end. Blue certainly would not have responded well to that kind of information, and would have likely opposed the idea of hunting its source down. It was not a signal that the Mantle could simply ignore, however, as the possibility that this figure might be someone from the past, one with terrible power behind them. It was too great a risk to take.
He had to see for himself.
In spite of all the evils of this unforgivable place of torment and despair, much of it was localized within the great stone walls that stretched around the Necropolis, sealed off from the rest of the Digital World behind a massive gate of iron bars. Above this portal to Hell itself lies a plaque, embellished with rusted lettering that spelled out the final message to any soul and all who were condemned to roam here for eternity: "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here."
Just like this sign and the Moon in the heavens, the Red Mantle quietly cast his observant gaze to the Necropolis below from the safety of an empty gargoyle's plinth, mounted high atop a sprawling cathedral's bell tower. His arms were folded into one another, tucked against his chest even as the occasional draft threatened his sense of balance. He did not belong in this torturous realm, this white-haired swordsman, yet his vigilant posture and unflinching expressions indicated that his presence in the Necropolis was not without purpose.
Giving credence to this theory, at the base of the Gothic structure, was the warrior's Digimon partner, Blue –– and yet, he also wasn't. Rather, he had concealed his true form behind an image-cloaking device the Mantle had purchased not too long ago, using it as a way to further mask his identity and that of his friend's from public eyes; you never knew who was on the lookout these days. As it currently was, all that stood by the door in place of a Veemon was a tall, young-looking, blue-haired man dressed in a matching color jumpsuit with metallic accoutrements, evocative of the lancers of ancient times.
"C'mon, Red. What're you doin' up dere?" Blue whispered to himself, crossing his arms as he cast a wayward glance to the steeple directly above his location. He had been surveying the Necropolis for what seemed like ten minutes –– ten minutes longer than any, living creature, human or Digimon, should be spending inside this place. He grimaced in disgust at the sudden arrival of a less-than-pleasant aroma, leaning against a nearby statue of decorative armor as he examined a spear, scarlet red and veined, gripped inside one of its gauntlets. This place reeked of death.
It was not a topic that the Mantle was willing to discuss out in the open, for his instincts told him to keep all word on the matter totally mum from others. It was a burden he chose to carry on his own, and all who objected could rightfully line up and sod off. It was not something he could divulge to Blue, either, for he would likely start bearing down over his shoulders in resistance. No, nobody could know why he chose to come to the Necropolis of his own accord.
There was someone here. It was a presence he was certain he had not felt in decades, a presence that sent the hairs on his neck standing on end. Blue certainly would not have responded well to that kind of information, and would have likely opposed the idea of hunting its source down. It was not a signal that the Mantle could simply ignore, however, as the possibility that this figure might be someone from the past, one with terrible power behind them. It was too great a risk to take.
He had to see for himself.
MADE BY MINNIE OF FTS & GANGNAM STYLE
