DEVIL'S PLAYGROUND — private

~~Raquel~~ · 04-23-2018, 09:06 PM

*:･ﾟ✦ Hell hath no fury as blood drips from thy body. Heaven hath no fear while harmony turns the gears. Such sweet sorrow is the rumor to all evil. Yet, everything we hold dear gets caught in the all the sheers. Screaming, we all scream but it's those whose windpipes burst that cry out the loudest. Death takes all forms of life, like a poster hung on a slab of concrete.. Wanted: dead or alive. That's all Death wants, that's all they ever wanted. Just like the devil we prey on the innocent, the weak and the downtrodden. We have no mercy for such walks of life, it's simply who we are. There's not much too this life, either kill or be killed, eat or be eaten. The food chain bears no regrets and shares no ties to remorse. As we do not. Life is meaningless, when you take better look at it in a different angle. Take my advice.. And run..

Death is but a moniker to the word love..

Confrontation is cynical. Lies are delusional. Death is inevitable. And love is fable. It's fictional, you see we wrap are hopes and dreams around it and still it's a facade deprived from whimsical failure. We fail in the efforts of finding true love, because just like the lies we spread - it'll leave us delusional. Raquel never trusted love from anyone except her family, and even they feel the wrath of such chaos that comes with her kind of love. She turns a cold shoulder to people who swoon over the fable, watching from the audience as they shrivel up and die just when they realize love is nothing but a lie. She laughs in the face of loved ones who swear to cherish and protect one another, she believes it to be a figment of our imagination. Oh how she hates the word and what it brings upon others, weak and fragile they become, locked in a deadly duel with such fabrications.

Oh how she has dawned thus far..

Lost in thought. Raquel surely was. It was in her darkest moments that she allowed herself to tango with the devil, if only for a second, she'll become lost in it's iron grip. For the mean time the obsidian dame wades through a the tress. She quickly took a hard right turn, disappearing into the shadows of a cave until she was moving through the darkness and further. She knew not of where she was headed, only that her paws were doing the work for her, still consumed by thought. She was hoping to run into someone, anyone. At this point, she hadn't cared if she bumped into a mutated squirrel, at least she'll have someone to gnaw on.

"Speaking"

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