TO PORCELAIN, TO IVORY, TO STEEL

                    she traipses after the budding titan with a covetous glower to her celestial gaze, apathy reigning supreme over her lacerated countenance despite the pride swelling within her inflated breast. and she halts in her saunter as she breaches the threshold of their cavern, allowing for her pupils to survey their eerie surroundings in an attempt to pinpoint any who dare hold malevolent intentions to her kin before fixating her stare upon the boy -- contemplatively. her scrutiny is inevitable and, as she reclines upon robust thighs, the ghost of a simper begins to contort her porcelain features as she observes her bounding son with wry amusement. his infantile naivety is enrapturing and becoming of a babe his age; however, the fledgling mother knows it is only a matter of time before she shatters it with the cruel knowledge of life.

but it becomes obvious to the tyrant that that time would come sooner than later, and a wave of contempt sears through her interior as she registers her son’s prying inquiry. she retains a characteristically stoic composure as she permits the momentary silence that proceeds the boy’s question whilst pondering over whether or not to break his innocence so soon, quirking a brow with uncertainty. “dead,” is the barbaric declaration that seeps from the elysius’ unhinged jaws, laden in cruel apathy as her pupils bore into her son’s own, having breached a crucial decision. “gone forever -- an eternal sleep,” she elaborates, educating him upon their own mortality as if discussing trivial matters. and her tail flicks minutely in an attempt to lure him back into her close quarters, her skull tipping downward until it is nearly level with his own. “he was too weak to bear our name, my little titan; mourn him not,” she advises with hushed tones, relying upon his youthful susceptibility to morph him into indifference -- just as she had been long ago.