You got me with your beat of love, I never wanna come out
andromeda walks the path towards rapax river like an angel lost. she dances like soft silk, between the slim pine trees of delumine. her breath is sensual and ragged, when it falls lightly past her lips, unfurling in the winter chill. hunger, makes an eclipse for the shadows of her heart. her soul feels both dead and hungry, for the salivating way her gaze hooks against cold, shivering flesh. when she spots something moving in the distance, her fiery gaze become hot blades, etched upon the chaste image of an ermine rabbit. andromeda watches the rabbit's eyes widen with blood-shot terror, then scamper off into the woods, tail held high. it is only a white-furred speck, a fleeing creature, disappearing off into the remote distance. there is apart of her that wants to chase the rabbit and run it into the earth, in a sea of red. to dash its visceral entrails, along the pale snow, till they look like strewn petals spread out before the ashes of a funeral pyre.
there is apart of her that begs to sink her fangs into tender flesh and tear. tear it asunder. like a wolf tears into mangled flesh, bone, too hungry to feel mercy, where instinct prevailed. but there is a softness in andromeda, too. a tenderness within her delicate, girlish skeleton. with a jaded sigh, she lets the rabbit disappear without following it into the forest. her hair falls over her face. smooth pin-straight lavender, rippling across her cheekbones like a soft, seductive veil. she does not feel hungry, physically. flesh does not sustain. will never sustain. o, it is her mind and heart, that starves instead. something feels empty within. something feeds her emptiness. she does not know what this emptiness is, and yet she feels it. consuming her worlds, from within. consuming her and possessing her like black magic possesses its victims. dark. cursed. beautiful.
when hot sunlight, pours over her sensuous physique, andromeda looks absolutely heavenly. starved light creeps angelic, against her slender curves. an eternal flame of desire, how she glistens wildly beneath the sun. yet parts of her memory falls like disjointed limbs. blood. soul. fire. she remembers dying in the fire. she remembers the scalding heat of it's violent caress. being consumed alive by flames. being destroyed over and over again. designed by heaven's light, andromeda is the pure manifestation of ethereal beauty. she is soft and graceful like poetry. she is wild and wicked like the songs of wolves, howling for the hunt by midnight. she is soft in ways minks are soft; both silky, slender and deadly. her smile is warm like sunlight. but her heart feels sad and alone, when she looks into the distance, where the rabbit once grazed. this must be loneliness, she thinks. this must be what living feels like.
her heart feels distorted. her thoughts are broken. her mind feels ravaged. none of her feels right, when her delicate form dances along the edge of the woods, and upon finally reaching the river's edge, only then does she drink from the cool well of water to sate her thirsts.
Think of me, You're always in the dark
I am your light, your light, your light
