TO PORCELAIN, TO IVORY, TO STEEL

                    velveteen lips flutter with unbridled mirth as the deity regards her only son with a diligent gaze, infiltrating the cavern’s interior with easy, elongated strides and into his immediate proximities. a contented smirk worms its way upon her countenance as her prying pupils commence in the vigorous scrutiny of his infantile physique, ensuring that she receives every angle of his minuscule form as she sluggishly encircles him -- like a brooding predator observing its prey. yet her intentions are far from malevolent, and, having cast her judgment, she gives willing pause in her saunter before fixing the babe with a stare so glacial. “you are ready,” the elysius proclaims with the proud incline of her chin, gesturing minutely towards their chambers’ entrance as if to beckon him beyond the threshold and into a world for the taking -- for their taking.