HEY YOUNG BLOOD

With the pretentious finesse of a queen she hails, exposing herself to the tyrannical banshee who is otherwise unsuspecting to her abrupt and mischievous presence within a desolate wood. Abstract gaze devours all within its wake as she registers the cacophony of unmasked footfalls that lead her hungry pupils directly to its source, recognition settling into the folds of her diseased mind as her gaze lingers upon the adolescent?s ethereal exterior. Frayed lips tweak into the faintest hint of a smirk laden with poisonous intent and she halts in her purposeful saunter, allowing the carmine beauty to approach her as she will. Indifference shrouds her porcelain countenance as her pursuer lays waste to the distance that separates them--a predator from her prey--and yet, there is no denying the intense emotion that swarms her interior; had her victim become her advocate? However, as the child?s angelic tones grace the atmosphere, it all starts to make sense, and yet, not at all. Brows furrow in contemplation as she searches the demon?s facial features for an incent to what she can only suspect is a joke, though she is granted none--only the devious gleam to the girl?s molten gaze. ?Your mother would not want you here, little demon,? she croons softly--monotonously. She briefly wonders how the girl had even managed such a feat--to escape the prying grasp of a protective mother who had almost lost a daughter.