Work Text:
When War wages down upon these vast, desolate lands,
Bringing with him a sense of despair and agony,
Swinging a sword of steel and cold metal through the enemies neck and lighting the sky with the loud eruption of his explosions,
Death will surely follow.
When Blood is spilled,
Painting the green grass of the battlefield red,
And creating a long river of the enemies mistake with voices of the damned calling for more,
Their cries desperate and angry,
Despite the metallic tang hanging low in the air it's never enough,
It will never be enough,
Death will surely follow.
When Death's Angel flies low overhead,
A scavenger awaiting his prey,
Eyes cold and sharp,
He reaps the souls of the weak for his Lady’s collection,
Blood never staining but drenches his hands,
Death will surely follow.
And Death will follow.
She follows closely behind her family,
A cold,
Joyous grin painted upon her beautiful face,
Unwavering,
Death follows.
Her pale,
Perfect white skin glows beautifully in the moonlight,
Radiating a powerful kind of energy in its glow,
A god perhaps?
Death follows.
Her beautiful dress swishes back and forth with the wind,
Black with purple highlights,
And a sun hat with a dark veil shadows her eyes,
Allowing no one to see her true self,
Death follows.
She always will.
She always has.
Death will always follow.