Post by fatal on Apr 2, 2008 17:24:15 GMT -5
Walk forever in the shadow of him.
Trying to get rid of Azaralin Caleb Haplin is like trying to slam a revolving door- -impossible.
With the charming appearance of thirty three, is there a chance you’d forget the blood that courses his veins?
They never meant to breed such a thing as vampires, and really, they shouldn’t be around today.
Flesh the color of empty nothingness stretches over his thin skeletal and is clothed in a dark shroud.
Eyes the color of a beautiful hazel seem to stare straight into your soul.
This creature of night stands a mighty 6’ 9” tall.
Locks painted a dark brunette cover the top of his cranium.
But, in fact, an occasional wrinkle appears upon his gloomy face, giving hint to his true age.
His violent expressions and critical overviews could send dread through anyone.
It doesn’t bother him that people fear his pearly white fangs, truthfully, it amuses him.
Oh, and those razor sharp teeth are stained a lovely crimson.
At first glance you’d never think he was anything but mortal, but as you can tell he is quite divine.
This gentleman is very sturdy, emotionally and physically.
When he was but three he learned of his awful lust, for blood, no less.
He’s never forgotten what everyone else long since put behind them.
Azaralin can hold a grudge perpetually.
Especially when it involves his sister.
Mother raised him to be polite until he was seven.
Then father turned him into an insensitive monster.
Only Naerwen could change him, and he lost her many years ago.
Accidents and mistakes aren’t often elapsed, and they flood his life.
Time keeps turning and with it he’ll go on, forever and ever, amen.
Trying to get rid of Azaralin Caleb Haplin is like trying to slam a revolving door- -impossible.
With the charming appearance of thirty three, is there a chance you’d forget the blood that courses his veins?
They never meant to breed such a thing as vampires, and really, they shouldn’t be around today.
Flesh the color of empty nothingness stretches over his thin skeletal and is clothed in a dark shroud.
Eyes the color of a beautiful hazel seem to stare straight into your soul.
This creature of night stands a mighty 6’ 9” tall.
Locks painted a dark brunette cover the top of his cranium.
But, in fact, an occasional wrinkle appears upon his gloomy face, giving hint to his true age.
His violent expressions and critical overviews could send dread through anyone.
It doesn’t bother him that people fear his pearly white fangs, truthfully, it amuses him.
Oh, and those razor sharp teeth are stained a lovely crimson.
At first glance you’d never think he was anything but mortal, but as you can tell he is quite divine.
This gentleman is very sturdy, emotionally and physically.
When he was but three he learned of his awful lust, for blood, no less.
He’s never forgotten what everyone else long since put behind them.
Azaralin can hold a grudge perpetually.
Especially when it involves his sister.
Mother raised him to be polite until he was seven.
Then father turned him into an insensitive monster.
Only Naerwen could change him, and he lost her many years ago.
Accidents and mistakes aren’t often elapsed, and they flood his life.
Time keeps turning and with it he’ll go on, forever and ever, amen.