THE SUN BREATHES RUIN UPON THE DESERT DUNES. A MERCILESS FLAME, A RELENTLESS FIRE, LAVISHED IN HEAT AND DEPRAVED ADORATION. ITS SCORCHING TOUCH WOULD LAY WASTE TO THOSE WHO FELT ITS BEWITCHING SURRENDER; LIKE THE HOT HAND OF A GODDESS, CURLING AGAINST THE SOULS OF MORTALS. EVEN AN AUTUMNAL CARESS COULD NOT SLAKE THE DESERT'S THIRST; NOR LEND REPRIEVE TO THE PARCHED EARTH, SO BURIED IN DROUGHT AND HARSH, SUFFOCATING SAND. WHERE WAS THE MERCY TO BE HAD, IN A PALACE SO SKELETAL, EMPTY AND FORGOTTEN?
O, ALL ALONG THE savage DESERT, WRAITH-LIKE SIGHS STIRS THE GOLDEN DUNES; WHISKED AWAY BY THE RELENTLESS BREEZE, THAT DRIFTS ALONG ITS DESOLATE BOUNTY AND HISSED AND hissed AND hissed. HERE, IN THIS VIPER'S PIT; WHERE HEAT EMBLAZONS THE WILD SOLTERRAN SKY, AND THE VIOLENT HISSING SONG OF WIND CLEAVES THE HEART, A YOUNG RUNAWAY CHILD WEAVES INBETWEEN THE CADAVEROUS PATHWAYS OF DARK AND LIGHT. LOST. ALONE. AFRAID. FORGOTTEN.
THE ASH-GOLD EARTH, SWIMS BENEATH THE DELICATE LINES OF HER BALLETIC TOES. ALONG THE DUNES LIKE THE PLIANT COILING OF SNAKES, SHE DANCES LIKE A SENSUOUS RIBBON COME ALIVE. HER BODY MOVES IN A CADENCE OF EBONY AND LACE; SLENDER LEGS, COMBING THRU GOLDEN SOIL WITH ALL THE IMPASSIONED HUNGER OF A DANCER. THROUGH THE BLEMISHED PATHWAYS, AND SCANT SAHARA TREES THAT SWARMED UP ABOVE AND FELL IN DEAD, BRITTLE CANOPY AROUND HER GRACEFUL BODY, SHE RUNS. THE IVORY DAUGHTER BATHED IN LAVENDER RUIN, WITH FLOWING OBSIDIAN CURLS, AND A VEIL OF MISTY GREY-BLUE EYES, WANDERS THE DESERT, AIMLESSLY.
SHE IS ALONE. SHE IS AFRAID. SHE IS STARVING. THE SAND BITES RAW UPON HER BLEEDING LIPS. THE FEARSOME BLUE SKY, SO VAST AND IMMENSE, REFLECTS THE EMPTY BARRENESS OF THE DESERT BELOW; CHOKING HER HEART INTO A SOBBING CRY. AND YET DESPITE HER LONELINESS, DESPITE THE ENDLESS ISOLATION SHE FEELS, SHE HOLDS HERSELF WITH THE SILENT FIERCENESS OF A REBEL CHILD; TOO WILD, AND TOO FERAL, TO BE TAMED BY THE VULTURES OF THE DESERT.
SHE MOVES ALONG THE SHADOWED CAVERNS, HER SMALL BODY SWALLOWED BY THE MASSIVE RED WALLS. THE PARCHED EARTH SUCKS AT HER SOUL. THE STENCH OF DEATH CLINGS TO HER SUPPLE PHYSIQUE, CURLING AROUND HER SHOULDERSBLADE LIKE THE PALE FINGERS OF HADES. EVEN HER LIPS WERE GHOSTED OVER BY THE WINTRY KISS OF RUINATION, AS THOUGH SO CLOSE TO DEATH, AND YET SO YOUNG A CHILD; left for dead, to be picked apart by the scavengers.
IT IS IN THE MIDST OF EVANGELINA'S SILENT REVERIE, THAT HER ICe-BLUE GAZE CATCHES THE CHILLING FLICKER OF SILVER AND PALE PLATINUM; AN ATHLETIC FRAME, THAT PACES SLEEK AND SLENDER AGAINST THE CRIMSON-SHADOWED CORRIDORS. DRIVEN BY THIRST, OVERCOME BY CHILDISH IMPULSE, EVANGELINA FOLLOWS THE SHADOWY FIGURE INTO THE DARKNESS OF THE CANYON. AN INNOCENT LAMB, EVANGELINA'S WHISPER DRIPS WITH THE SOFT LAMENT OF A LONELY CHILD. "PLEASE MA'AM... DO...YOU HAVE ANY FOOD?"
O, ALL ALONG THE savage DESERT, WRAITH-LIKE SIGHS STIRS THE GOLDEN DUNES; WHISKED AWAY BY THE RELENTLESS BREEZE, THAT DRIFTS ALONG ITS DESOLATE BOUNTY AND HISSED AND hissed AND hissed. HERE, IN THIS VIPER'S PIT; WHERE HEAT EMBLAZONS THE WILD SOLTERRAN SKY, AND THE VIOLENT HISSING SONG OF WIND CLEAVES THE HEART, A YOUNG RUNAWAY CHILD WEAVES INBETWEEN THE CADAVEROUS PATHWAYS OF DARK AND LIGHT. LOST. ALONE. AFRAID. FORGOTTEN.
THE ASH-GOLD EARTH, SWIMS BENEATH THE DELICATE LINES OF HER BALLETIC TOES. ALONG THE DUNES LIKE THE PLIANT COILING OF SNAKES, SHE DANCES LIKE A SENSUOUS RIBBON COME ALIVE. HER BODY MOVES IN A CADENCE OF EBONY AND LACE; SLENDER LEGS, COMBING THRU GOLDEN SOIL WITH ALL THE IMPASSIONED HUNGER OF A DANCER. THROUGH THE BLEMISHED PATHWAYS, AND SCANT SAHARA TREES THAT SWARMED UP ABOVE AND FELL IN DEAD, BRITTLE CANOPY AROUND HER GRACEFUL BODY, SHE RUNS. THE IVORY DAUGHTER BATHED IN LAVENDER RUIN, WITH FLOWING OBSIDIAN CURLS, AND A VEIL OF MISTY GREY-BLUE EYES, WANDERS THE DESERT, AIMLESSLY.
SHE IS ALONE. SHE IS AFRAID. SHE IS STARVING. THE SAND BITES RAW UPON HER BLEEDING LIPS. THE FEARSOME BLUE SKY, SO VAST AND IMMENSE, REFLECTS THE EMPTY BARRENESS OF THE DESERT BELOW; CHOKING HER HEART INTO A SOBBING CRY. AND YET DESPITE HER LONELINESS, DESPITE THE ENDLESS ISOLATION SHE FEELS, SHE HOLDS HERSELF WITH THE SILENT FIERCENESS OF A REBEL CHILD; TOO WILD, AND TOO FERAL, TO BE TAMED BY THE VULTURES OF THE DESERT.
SHE MOVES ALONG THE SHADOWED CAVERNS, HER SMALL BODY SWALLOWED BY THE MASSIVE RED WALLS. THE PARCHED EARTH SUCKS AT HER SOUL. THE STENCH OF DEATH CLINGS TO HER SUPPLE PHYSIQUE, CURLING AROUND HER SHOULDERSBLADE LIKE THE PALE FINGERS OF HADES. EVEN HER LIPS WERE GHOSTED OVER BY THE WINTRY KISS OF RUINATION, AS THOUGH SO CLOSE TO DEATH, AND YET SO YOUNG A CHILD; left for dead, to be picked apart by the scavengers.
IT IS IN THE MIDST OF EVANGELINA'S SILENT REVERIE, THAT HER ICe-BLUE GAZE CATCHES THE CHILLING FLICKER OF SILVER AND PALE PLATINUM; AN ATHLETIC FRAME, THAT PACES SLEEK AND SLENDER AGAINST THE CRIMSON-SHADOWED CORRIDORS. DRIVEN BY THIRST, OVERCOME BY CHILDISH IMPULSE, EVANGELINA FOLLOWS THE SHADOWY FIGURE INTO THE DARKNESS OF THE CANYON. AN INNOCENT LAMB, EVANGELINA'S WHISPER DRIPS WITH THE SOFT LAMENT OF A LONELY CHILD. "PLEASE MA'AM... DO...YOU HAVE ANY FOOD?"
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