tw, its a lot of gross bug imagery my fault og
CONTAMINATION STAINS YOUR SKIN AS YOU REEK OF SIN.
vil's guts intertwine into a knot. the bleeding fills his throat as he croaks out, "who are you?".
ROOK HUNT, THE JUDGE, JURY, AND EXECUTIONER. eyes blossoming twilight laced in malice, he was known around night raven as an enigma.
cyancide drips off of rook's tongue, "i want to peel off the layers of skin you're hiding, in return of my silence." vil seethes at rook's cherry pitted words and swallowed acrylic teeth (you're rotten!) but is deafened by the thorns piercing through his manuka honey skin. an aurous arrow pins his heart to the walls;
if i am rotten, then you are sickening.
no gluttonous amount of wisteria perfume can get rid of the decay that lingers on your palms. guilt fills your insides with maggots and the worms creep out your eyes. bones withering like molten petals, you are a vulture's feast.
"look how rotten you are. vil schoenheit.
so beauté , so perfect."
