hyperparadise

*Isardis* · 07-04-2014, 07:24 PM

But it was only the most welcomed of whispers that would kiss as razored butterflies within his coral harks, beating wings that pounded fragile air; words that formed within the spiralling gusts of their endeavours would leave his mind refreshingly youthful, a momentary sense of wonder growing with the nurtured caverns of the seniors skull. If there was a woman who wore pale gowns and seduced you in her dreams it would be she, so beautifully crafted in a manner that could entice any man to kneel at her will. But it is only the stupid that would appreciate her for her unspoiled beauty; her power is far more alluring, the blood that stains her fangs scream of damage dealt only by the prevailing.

She?s like a drug, but not an addiction; you do not miss her or crave her, but she will haunt your mind. And Isardis would seek her only now, not in lust and not in pine? but as if it had been dared upon him, as if the devil himself suggested such an outrageously fascinating reunion to be. She bothered him to no end, she had slipped from his grasp effortlessly when he had fallen ill, and yet the cherry monster thought himself mad to do something about it. No, he had seen her wrath. So today, even now when his crown did not sit high atop his temples, he would come to assess, and possibly to plead; to drool at her feet and ensure it was not his spine she sought to break. Because together? the duo could have been a force to be reckoned with, but would she see him as an ally or as foe? Would she prove him unwise and strip herself of admiration, wholly because he had passed his throne? He would meander by her borders, perhaps daring to take just one stride over her boundaries? taxing, absorbed, seeking his heroin.

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