02-13-2019, 06:47 PM
Whitter
hell is empty
and all the devils are here
and all the devils are here
The blue eyes of the stallion watched the constellation-painted female through hollowed expression, somewhat interested in what her words would deliver. Whitter was met with a breath of flirtatious delight, and he found himself tempted to play along. “A shame, indeed,”he agrees with the speckled mare. He continues to eye her as her velvet words ring in his ears.
Starsin.
A word that felt like premonition to him, and he stores it in his memory - something that he hasn’t felt like doing for quite some time. “Your timing is impeccable, Starsin,” Whitter commends lightly, his own form of poison braiding itself into his rasped voice. He imagined what she would look like with tears of anger in her eyes, and he thought it was as beautiful as any wicked thunderstorm. He imagined what furies lied within her - whether they were destructive and blazing hot, or icy and rock shelled. A small part of Whitter longed to see the darkest parts of Starsin’s soul, his murky consciousness quickly spiralling.
“You can stay, if you want,” her venom voice dripped with allure, and Whitter’s darkness only rose. What would her broken existence look like? “A tempting invitation, Starsin,” Would she ever give him the satisfaction of what her soul on fire would look like? Whitter is spiralling, his depravity threatening to claw its way to the surface of his existence. “Maybe for a while,” he offers. The grey man thinks her blood was probably an incredible shade of red.
His blue eyes dart from Starsin’s and gaze around, not noticing much detail in their surroundings. Whitter’s thoughts were running away from him, and he needed to move should he not want to completely self destruct. “Perhaps, a walk?”
Starsin.
A word that felt like premonition to him, and he stores it in his memory - something that he hasn’t felt like doing for quite some time. “Your timing is impeccable, Starsin,” Whitter commends lightly, his own form of poison braiding itself into his rasped voice. He imagined what she would look like with tears of anger in her eyes, and he thought it was as beautiful as any wicked thunderstorm. He imagined what furies lied within her - whether they were destructive and blazing hot, or icy and rock shelled. A small part of Whitter longed to see the darkest parts of Starsin’s soul, his murky consciousness quickly spiralling.
“You can stay, if you want,” her venom voice dripped with allure, and Whitter’s darkness only rose. What would her broken existence look like? “A tempting invitation, Starsin,” Would she ever give him the satisfaction of what her soul on fire would look like? Whitter is spiralling, his depravity threatening to claw its way to the surface of his existence. “Maybe for a while,” he offers. The grey man thinks her blood was probably an incredible shade of red.
His blue eyes dart from Starsin’s and gaze around, not noticing much detail in their surroundings. Whitter’s thoughts were running away from him, and he needed to move should he not want to completely self destruct. “Perhaps, a walk?”