HEY YOUNG BLOOD

The beauty no longer adorns macabre embellishments nor is her petite frame wracked by vehement compulsions, though even in her customary state, the phantom deity finds herself enthralled by the wicked oddity placed so vulnerably ( and conveniently ) before her. Despite the flare of intrigue that engulfs her malevolent interior, her pallid countenance refrains from portraying outward emotion--entirely encompassed by practiced stoicism as her abstract gaze finds comfort in the child?s own carmine eyes, swimming with evident mischief. The hint of a smirk flickers upon velveteen lips as the dainty princess retorts with the obvious, amusement unveiled with her victim?s obliviousness--so she had been too preoccupied in the unconscious realm to recall the identity of her captor. Oh--the wraith could have feigned her own innocence; though, she wanted the child to k n o w. ?Your mother does not like me,? the Elysius croons, vocals lavished in silk, though there is truth to her words. Skull lowers slightly, attempting to meet the beauty at eye-level, muzzle invading the girl?s personal space as she baits the child with taunting intentions--the wry grin ever-present upon her marred visage. ?I don?t blame her, though. After all, I did take her daughter.? A singular brow quirks upon her forehead as she hints to the child, hoping that her confession is obvious enough to her former prisoner.