10-24-2018, 10:59 PM
She has forsaken everything she has known.
Her home with in the volcanic land is no longer her home. The morals and values she has once set to living her life by are tossed aside. Memories she had previously held dearly onto are forgotten. Those she had once claim to love and care for are overlooked now.
It had all been for him.
Bruise.
He had become her very focal point. Every waking moment and opportunity she could get was spent with him. Blinded is what some would call her now if they could see her, but she would have called it love.
Love for something that had never been there. He, the monster she fell for, masked the falsehood of love that he proclaimed for her. His protection was all she had needed—he promised her. He promised her everything that a love would have to offer.
And she, blindly and stupidly, fell into the trance.
There was no ending to the game he played. Bruise continued to win Lucrezia over every time. She had become captivated by who and what he was—lies upon lies she continued to believe.
But these were not lies to her.
This was love. True love. Everything she had dreamed of.
He was hers, and she was his.
Lucrezia is here though, like any other days that have passed since she has met her love (the monster she would have undone if she had not been so weak), waiting for where he asks her to be. She does not ask where he goes, only knowing he was there to protect her, to put an end to Pollock for once and for all.
It was all she could do for what he was doing for her—for them.
Her home with in the volcanic land is no longer her home. The morals and values she has once set to living her life by are tossed aside. Memories she had previously held dearly onto are forgotten. Those she had once claim to love and care for are overlooked now.
It had all been for him.
Bruise.
He had become her very focal point. Every waking moment and opportunity she could get was spent with him. Blinded is what some would call her now if they could see her, but she would have called it love.
Love for something that had never been there. He, the monster she fell for, masked the falsehood of love that he proclaimed for her. His protection was all she had needed—he promised her. He promised her everything that a love would have to offer.
And she, blindly and stupidly, fell into the trance.
There was no ending to the game he played. Bruise continued to win Lucrezia over every time. She had become captivated by who and what he was—lies upon lies she continued to believe.
But these were not lies to her.
This was love. True love. Everything she had dreamed of.
He was hers, and she was his.
Lucrezia is here though, like any other days that have passed since she has met her love (the monster she would have undone if she had not been so weak), waiting for where he asks her to be. She does not ask where he goes, only knowing he was there to protect her, to put an end to Pollock for once and for all.
It was all she could do for what he was doing for her—for them.
@[bruise]
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