JUST OUR EPIPHANIES �
10-02-2014, 01:56 PM
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? there is a foreboding silence in the air that the deity cannot ignore, the obvious calm before the storm as indicated by the ominous blanket of clouds looming overhead, threatening to burst at their metaphorical seams at any given moment. alas, the phantom queen is undeterred by such prospective CHAOS, her carriage elegant as she maneuvers within cloaked darkness, amethyst and metallic gaze relentlessly ravaging the premises of her surroundings for a source of intrigue. and there is no denying her restlessness that has thrived within her own boredom -- boredom that has festered as a result of her lack of duty. for without a crown to halo her temples or kin to prosper for, the elysius tyrant has no purpose -- other than to wreak havoc upon the subservient and terrorize those deserving of her merciless wrath. yet it has become apparent to the deity that her adversaries only flee in her wake; though it had also become her own self-appointed duty to locate and annihilate those who had attempted to escape her clutches unscathed. she has no rhyme nor reason to trek lands unknown; however, it is the faint { and alluring } aroma of a common harlot that instigates her rare curiosity, robust limbs propelling her preeminent form to a world encumbered by crystalline figurines. a singular brow quirks upon her lacerated forehead as her own battered reflection gazes back at her -- frigid and calculating. fervent pupils yet scan her scintillating surroundings in search of the perpetrator of her enticement, at first overlooking the pallid wraith in belief that it had merely been another of her reflections glaring back at her. however, the physique of the pretender is too feminine -- too appealing -- and immediately the phantom queen halts in her stride, disdain heavy within her mismatched gaze as she scrutinizes the other. ?a rose among thorns,? she comments dryly, announcing her presence to the oblivious vixen with a saccharine croon { however feigned it is }. ?-- but roses only wither,? is the antagonistic statement proffered with a mischievous gleam to her mismatched gaze, visage yet vacant of emotion. |
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