Cupid made it her mission to make Kai Parker fall in love.
She just never expected that it'd be with her.
♡
In which the Angel of Love comes tumbling down from her cloud - and into Kai Parker's prison world.
// VIOLENCE, MATURE THEMES AND STRONG LAN...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
♡ 𝘃𝗮𝗹𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗲 ♡
𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘦
day one of many.
─── ༺♥༻ ───
WHEN YOU THINK OF LOVE, WHO'S FACE DO YOU SEE?
Perhaps you'd see the face of a lover. Or the face of a loved one. Maybe you didn't see any face - or the faces of multiple people simultaneously.
But you always see something.
A flicker of something you couldn't suppress. The flutters in your chest - to the deep pigmentation of your cheeks - love left its lingering effects on those it crept upon.
Maybe you feel pain.
When you feel yourself standing on the edge, shaking and trembling at the height of your own fall, did you feel the arrow first pierce your skin?
Love was a controversial figure. As misunderstood as death. Feared just as much and just as painful. Although, love did not wear a black robe and carry a scythe. It didn't hide in the darkness of eerie nights or moments of unease.
It wore the faces of people you knew. Danced in the streetlights of happy moments. Love, just like death, was unavoidable.
It made sense that life would create them as siblings.
Samael Arc was born first. Molded from the natural dirt of earth but speckled stardust throughout his veins. Above his ribcage, yet still low enough to avoid pestering eyes, slit a scar patched together with mud and quartz. Death was a reflection of Earth - and how that was his beginning - and everyone's end.
Freya Valentine was second-born. She, just like her older brother, held the same stardust in her veins. Yet, molded from summer clouds instead. Above her chest and nestled over her heart, her own scar sat, sewn together with english ivy and rose thorns. Love was a reflection of Heaven - and how devastating the fall from there would be - just as the fall into love.
Adorned with golden rings, heart-rimmed sunglasses, and glistening irises that peaked beneath like cherry pies, Freya was nothing but a sight for sore eyes. Sore eyes that probably gleamed beneath the harsh sun she sat under.
Her face would always fold inward with the usual look of concentration. Blushed cheeks would frown idly while thin fingers, coated with the deepest shade of red polish she could find, held the arrow between the bone.
