DAUGHTER
SHE IS BATHED IN COQUELICOT & CRUOR GALOR. blood glissades as rivers wrapped redolent, rufuous agonies u n d e r l i n i n g the further paling pallor of flesh ( the flesh forged to die, ) forged to be a punching bag of those older ––––––––––––––––––––––––– stronger. a lesson that lays wrought on skin first by her father then her mother & now her brother. the word tastes bitter. it did not fit between the sharpness of her teeth anymore, it begs to spitted out & renounced. with the excruciating pain throbbing in leg ricocheting up her body, bones instinctively compulsively shaking, hand acting like armor feels the cruel, unnatural curve of limb. she refused to cry. she refused to be rendered weak. pathetic. anger swells in chest filling the blank gaps between her ribs with every labored breath beneath breast, red seeping behind eyes comforting like a hug welcoming her home. her glare held the rage of an ocean, daggering the outline of him for the loss of her leg, her speed & the pain licking flames in her chest, tissue devoured into ash.
are you finished, κόρη ? & she realizes then from peripheral view she hates the hue of her hair now. she wanted to painted black. she feels remnants of strength coming from her mother’s word. methodically, meticulously, monotonously body swiveled & pirouetted until she could stand on one foot, knowing if she applied pressure on the other, another break would ensue. knowing if she applied pressure, her leg may not heal to its original form. and HE did that. she didn’t think it was possible to despise another man like she did her father & it felt right. fingers curled into fists carrying brawls.
❝ –––––––––––––––––– no. ❞ she stops fighting when she can’t anymore. it’s the first time she hear cacophonies of screams thriving in the pit of her throat, kill her ! kill her ! as vermillion flowed.
BATTLE IS HER ART & destruction her weapon of choice. even now predatory eyes d a n c e over wounded leg & marvel at the elegance, the poetry how better to take down an opponent than to make it so they cannot flee ?? her precious, ruthless son she sees in him none of the INFERNO but the quiet devastation so oft forgotten in history ( yet no less LETHAL ). his future stretches before timeless eyes, the mosaic of tales long past and yet to come w e a v i n g together in pattern she believes knows will follow :: battle-born boy turned conquering crusader. THOUSANDS will bend at his command ( and millions more will FALL ). a war churns on the horizon the work of tireless sister bending the world to her whim and her son shall lead this world to ruin. she sees it. she tastes it. she knows it. damn that meddlesome mortal who would dare attempt to twist her spawn to another fate bloodshed sees this time that she is the victor in cold cruelty cast in son’s eyes.
& don’t forget her dear, glorious, IRREPRESSIBLE daughter. her sweet deadly κόρη. so eager to please, so desperate for APPROVAL. she wishes to see her taken apart piece by piece and put back precisely to bloodshed’s preferences. she craves the sight of those rebellious, awful bones s n a p p e d into bits and molded back together :: something new ;; something BETTER. oh but she has plans for precious daughter ( so kind of uncle dearest to keep bringing her back to play )
carmine lips part to reveal BESTIAL FANGS, saccharine purr turning to vehement snarl.
❛ FINISH HER. ❜

















