❝Come. Kiss me godless.❞
Beauty. Terror. Chaos.
We are creatures of song and sin. Blessed with destruction. Cursed with allure. Born with the blood of humanity, Heaven and Hell scorching through our veins. The blood of angels. The blood of d...
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li·ar
/ˈlī(ə)r/
noun
1. the taste of salt and iron on your tongue, gold glistens on your lips. hands of clay stained with the blood of immortals. the blood of fire and rot. heaven and hell. it is the breaking and the mending, the terror and the chaos. darling, divinity has never been this finite.
2. we are the delicate things, the soft things born from envy and hate, crafted as weapons and devourers of fate. we lust for power as the monsters we slay crave for the ephemeral of our souls. we stalk through the night, in skins of mere mortality and hymns of ardent prayer. you do not fear us—we fear you.
3. it is the phantom feeling of destiny at play. it is about a girl whose heart does not belong to her, dreaming of silence and faeries and earl grey tea. it is the vile tenderness of wanting, wanting, wanting.
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THE GIRL HUNTED LEGENDS. Each guised in ostentatious skins and decadent desires. Some were clad in armours of sapphire and gold, vicious things devoted to battle. Others were wrapped in gowns of satin and taffeta, mouthfuls of honey-soaked lies dripping from whiskey lips.
The girl hunted them. Hunted myths and monsters from legends old.
Caught between awe and exasperation, she sighed at the false reality before her. Glass world, it was called. A pearly moon nestled against the nooks of the sky. Stars glimmering like diamonds scattered by a careless hand. It was a bright night, too bright a night.
A night for stories breathed to life.
Half of her concentration immediately worked on fortifying the walls of her mind against any form of mental assault. A defence mechanism ingrained into her ever since she was a child. The other half dedicated itself to peeling the glamour layer by layer. For the infernal beings that stalked their world had penchants for mind games. Delighting at the torment they brought.
The girl fiddled with her left ring finger, apprehensive at the absence of her charmed ring. Miffed at herself for allowing the princess to hold on to the one thing that could keep her identity an enigma.
