02-13-2016, 09:04 PM
cast me down where the devil don't go
Her voice lingers in the air; as sour and as putrid as the flesh that hangs from her limbs. It chokes her, suffocating her as she nears her, bristling her skin with a sordid dread she had not experienced in some time. Her heart rattled and pounded at her rib cage and her blood began to rush in a way that made her feel lightheaded from the pure adrenaline. The flight instinct was beginning to rear its ugly head, urging her away from the rotting creature that loomed so close to her, she could feel her hot breath against the nape of her neck.
She flinches away as the space between them is closed by her movements; her curvaceous limbs tangling and causing her to stumble as she attempts to step back and to the side. Her blackened gaze leers, wary and pensive, loathsome of her false pretenses. She knew the emotional range of her life-giver (mother was, truly, too forgiving of a word), and it never fared well for her in the past. She took in the scent of her sweet, almost metallic tainted breath and felt herself slip away to another time, to another place.
She had seen the tint of crimson stain her mother's teeth many times, knew of its origin, of her ill capacity for bloodlust - her breath always had a lingering stench of copper.
"I have nothing for you - go," She demands, her desperation exposed within the crackling of her lowered voice as she cast her empty gaze away from her. "Leave me."
She flinches away as the space between them is closed by her movements; her curvaceous limbs tangling and causing her to stumble as she attempts to step back and to the side. Her blackened gaze leers, wary and pensive, loathsome of her false pretenses. She knew the emotional range of her life-giver (mother was, truly, too forgiving of a word), and it never fared well for her in the past. She took in the scent of her sweet, almost metallic tainted breath and felt herself slip away to another time, to another place.
She had seen the tint of crimson stain her mother's teeth many times, knew of its origin, of her ill capacity for bloodlust - her breath always had a lingering stench of copper.
"I have nothing for you - go," She demands, her desperation exposed within the crackling of her lowered voice as she cast her empty gaze away from her. "Leave me."
Vaermina
chantale x nykeln