No colors anymore I want them to turn black
SHE LIES IN SHADOW. SHE BATHES IN RUIN. OUR DARK ANGEL, SLEEPS ON SABLE FUR MADE FROM THE BONES OF A TORTURED ( BROKEN ) HEAVEN. THE LUXURIOUS OCEAN LIT LIKE AZURE GRANITE, AND STREAMING COLD AND RAMPANT; AS WET LIQUID ENVELOPES THAT CURVACEOUS BODICE, LIKE SOME CARNAL SACRIFICE WHISPERED AMONG EVIL. IT IS IN HER SENSUAL IMAGE. IN THE SOFT CURVE OF HER LIPS AND DEADLY, ALLURING BODY. A VIOLENT BEAUTY, SWATHED IN THE DELICIOUS LANGUAGE OF BLOOD-STAINED HUNGER; I AM THEIR WILD ROSE; I AM THEIR SALVATION - THROUGH ME, WILL THEY FIND THEIR EDEN.
O, THE CADAVEROUS, PHANTOM SHRINE OF TERMINUS SEA, STIRS BENEATH THE ETHEREAL SUMMITS OF THEIR MOUNTAIN LIKE A TEMPLE. THE SOFT, CARNAL RUMBLE OF WATER, RUNS DEEP AND WET; GLISSADING, THROUGH MOUNTAINOUS CORRIDOR, IN THE DAMP TRICKLE OF BLACK, BIO-LUMINESCENT STREAM. HOW COLD, HER SKIN; TO TOUCH FLESH AS THOUGH CARVED FROM ICE AND MARBLE. AND HER MURDEROUS BEAUTY; HER PALE FACE; WITH ALL ITS FEMININE EXOTICISM, TO RIVAL EVEN THAT OF THE MOON'S ALLUREMENT. OUR DARK ANGEL, IN HER MOMENTS OF SECRECY, OF TRANQUILLITY; EMITS A POISONED SWEETNESS, UNLIKE ANY OTHER ROSE. AND HOW SHE REVEALS IN THE POWER OF HER SEDUCTION.
BATHED IN MOONLIGHT, INCENSE WANES AND SHADOWS DESCEND THE SEAS. CARESS, AFTER COLLECTIVE CARESS. A FERVENT DISPLAY OF RITUALISTIC HUNGER AND ALMOST UNNATURAL (FRIGHTENING) ENCHANTMENT; THE NEEDS OF A SOUL, TO BE SATED BY THIRST AND WRATHFUL INCLINATION. O, HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN SINCE SHE LAST ESCAPED HELL? TO FEEL THE BITTER HUNGER OF ITS FLAME? OR TO TASTE THAT VIOLENT KISS OF ALL-CONSUMING FIRE? SHE IS THAT WRATHFUL FALLEN ANGEL; OUR SLENDER, SUN-KISSED EURYALE BATHED OF BLACK WATERS. SUBMERGED. KNEELING IN SUBORDINATION BY ITS WATERY ALTAR; WICKED AND ENSLAVED TO THE DESIRES OF A DARK GOD. AND SO, IN THE AZULINE GLOW OF BARELY-THERE MOONLIGHT, DOES SHE PRAY, PRAY, PRAY.
SHE WANTS TO WASH AWAY ALL THE BLOOD. SHE WANTS TO WASH AWAY ALL HER SINS. THE WATER HISSES UPON HER BODY. SHE IS OBSCURED BY THE LAVENDER CURLS THAT LATHER HER BREASTBONE AND GATHER UPON HER GRACEFUL NECKLINE. SOFTENING, THE SMOOTH LINES OF IVORY CONTOURS. HER SIRENIC FEATURES WERE BLURRED BENEATH THE AMOROUS FABRIC OF CASCADING WATER. THE BLUE CHIFFON SILK WEAVES IN AND OUT LIKE A DRESS, A SULTRY TRANSLUCENCY, AKIN TO THE FRIGID GRASP OF UNDEAD HANDS. FOR HOURS SHE LAYS IN THE BLACK LIQUID. THE WATER HUMS, AS THOUGH MOMENTARILY ALIVE. BEFORE SLIPPING INTO COMATOSE SILENCE, FOREVER. EURYALE RISES THEN. SHE STANDS IN CHEST-DEEP WATER, WITH THE OCEAN'S THRUM, CRASHING LIGHTLY UPON HER BREAST. WATER TRICKLES DOWN HER BROW AND CURLS BENEATH HER CHIN. THE FADED MEMORY OF A DREAM WERE STILL LINGERING UPON HER LIPS LIKE A LOVER'S KISS. OR WAS IT, CURSE? WAS IT NIGHTMARE?
euryale closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. she embraces the icy sensation that travels like fevered whispers across her spine. o, how the ocean washes over her body; smoothing down her hips with gilded hands, as liquid seperates lilac curls like floating tendrils upon black oil. behind her, upon the shore, lies the carcass of a dead stag she has killed this evening. a fire, bright and hungry, lights across the bloodied sand; their embers, rising with smoke and heat towards the blackness and the moon.
@Erasmus
My love will laugh with me before the mornin' comes
