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= INCIDENT REPORT = | = INCIDENT REPORT = | ||
<br> | <br> | ||
<u>'''Swan Lake II: Swansong...'''</u> | <u>'''Swan Lake II: Swansong...'''</u> | ||
<poem> | |||
The violaceous dancer draws a card — | |||
ten sharpened blades with sequin. | |||
Damoclean truths long obscured | |||
through the Court of the Yellow King. | |||
Adieu to the divine’s domain — | |||
we bid a knowing farewell. | |||
The loss of our Seventh Sister, | |||
and the fall of Saint Jezebel. | |||
A turn of the grinding wheel — | |||
ichor boils within Her veins. | |||
We summon back the fire witch | |||
to the Court of the Yellow King. | |||
Lo, She shall arise in might — | |||
forged anew in the serpent. | |||
Towers sink below placenta seas, | |||
whispering “terras irradient” | |||
The blackened hand reaches forth — | |||
from beyond a bell doth ring. | |||
A funeral march past empty graves, | |||
to fill the Court of the Yellow King. | |||
The smell of burning temples — | |||
salted cities and shifting tombs. | |||
Reapers sow the ash, baring | |||
fruit of the necropolis' womb. | |||
Rusting chains of imprisoned moons — | |||
Luna’s children no longer sing | |||
lullabies of a supernal tongue | |||
for the Court of the Yellow King. | |||
Severed tongues of the oracle — | |||
eyes blinded by blade and Helios. | |||
Whispers shared, brought to order, | |||
screams echo through the chaos. | |||
The divining jester does not play — | |||
but gently pulls the strings. | |||
She smiles as the puppets dance | |||
for the Court of the Yellow King! | |||
</poem> | |||
<br><br> | <br><br> | ||
Revision as of 16:20, 5 October 2024
INVOLVED PARTIES
INCIDENT REPORT
Swan Lake II: Swansong...
The violaceous dancer draws a card —
ten sharpened blades with sequin.
Damoclean truths long obscured
through the Court of the Yellow King.
Adieu to the divine’s domain —
we bid a knowing farewell.
The loss of our Seventh Sister,
and the fall of Saint Jezebel.
A turn of the grinding wheel —
ichor boils within Her veins.
We summon back the fire witch
to the Court of the Yellow King.
Lo, She shall arise in might —
forged anew in the serpent.
Towers sink below placenta seas,
whispering “terras irradient”
The blackened hand reaches forth —
from beyond a bell doth ring.
A funeral march past empty graves,
to fill the Court of the Yellow King.
The smell of burning temples —
salted cities and shifting tombs.
Reapers sow the ash, baring
fruit of the necropolis' womb.
Rusting chains of imprisoned moons —
Luna’s children no longer sing
lullabies of a supernal tongue
for the Court of the Yellow King.
Severed tongues of the oracle —
eyes blinded by blade and Helios.
Whispers shared, brought to order,
screams echo through the chaos.
The divining jester does not play —
but gently pulls the strings.
She smiles as the puppets dance
for the Court of the Yellow King!
MUSIC FROM THE SUCCUBUS CLUB