WE MUST ROT LIKE ANIMALS .

          𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐘  ,     𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐇     𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐒  .          she  lays  beneath  his  gorging  body  ,  heavy  upon  her  cracking  ribcage  as  claws  burden  a  soft  ,  tame  gut  .  he  thinks  she  does  not  know  ,  that  she  sits  content  and  mild  in  that  untender  palm  of  his  .  he  thinks  she  would  allow  atrocity  after  atrocity  to  writhe  in  her  kingdom  of  violence  ,  of  wrath  ,  of  hot  blooded  murder  .  but  she  knows  ,  she  has  always  known  .  she  sees  that  wreath  of  guilt  melting  against  his  temple  as  he  crowns  himself  king  of  heaven  and  earth  ,  a  martyr  in  the  making  ,  caking  himself  with  sacrificial  blood  and  calling  it  his  very  own  .  he  uses  mercy  as  a  mask  ,  softness  as  his  skin  .  but  she  wants  to  see  this  ugly  thing  he  calls  a  soul  in  full  ,  this  lovely  downfall  he  calls  a  body  .  she  wants  to  know  how  his  face  will  mangle  when  he  stands  alone  with  his  heart  in  his  hands  against  a  ruin  of  smoke  and  ash  ,  a  temple  of  love  he  builds  with  churning  bodies  beneath  him  .          “     now  ,      ”          blood  sizzles  beneath  her  lazing  corpse  ,  beast  pinning  beast  in  the  low  gaze  of  the  moon  .           “     again  .      ”          a  smile  with  gore  ,  grin  pulling  and  pulling  until  petals  begin  to  shine  in  between  her  rancid  teeth  .  how  wolves  laugh  in  the  belly  of  her  throat  ,  clawing  their  way  to  her  tongue  ,  to  her  lips  ,  to  him  .  she  knows  what  he  can  do  to  her  ,  how  easy  he  can  make  a  grave  of  her  .  but  he  pretends  ,  wears  that  cracking  mask  day  after  day  after  day  .  and  so  she  repeats  .  she  reminds  him  that  for  every  sunset  he  takes  from  her  ,  she  will  haunt  him  for  another  sunrise  .  he  forgets  every  time  she  puts  her  hands  on  his  shoulders  ,  every  time  that  she  leans  in  close  and  lulls  him  into  that  somber  dream  they  share  .           “     do  you  remember  how  you  did  it  last  time  ?     ”          her  hands  climb  to  her  chest  ,  to  the  place  he  started  to  dig  out  her  heart  .  they  dance  into  herself  ,  under  the  skin  until  she  feels  her  own  ribs  and  bends  and  bends  and  bends  .  until  there  is  a  snap  .  pulling  the  rib  from  herself  ,  she  slides  it  under  his  mangled  fingers  ,  all  black  and  deteriorated  with  his  own  rot  .          “     one  by  one  by  one  .     ”         a  sneer  ,  her  eyes  alight  with  a  dim  redness  that  only  hungered  .          “     remember  ,  adam  .     ”

          𝐀𝐍𝐃        𝐇𝐎𝐖        𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃        𝐏𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒  .          a  ravening  creature  rests  in  the  shape  of  all  that  red  ,  pulling  ,  plucking  ,  encircling  the  veins  that  pulse  beneath  wretched  skin  .  there  was  no  heart  there  to  dance  so  violently  after  all  ,  only  the  song  of  thorns  and  eyes  that  sneered  from  within  .  what  a  wretched  beast  was  she  ,  howling  at  the  sight  of  her  own  enticing  misery  .  the  blow  is  enough  to  make  her  bleed  ,  to  make  her  throat  burn  with  breathtaking  agony  .  he  reminds  her  that  she  is  weak  ,  everlasting  but  with  bones  as  brittle  as  filth  ,  as  soft  as  gore  .  she  wants  more  .  but  he  does  not  give  enough  ,  only  a  taste  .  only  enough  to  make  her  stare  at  the  pool  dripping  from  her  lips onto  the  forest  floor  below  ,  nails  buried  into  the  grass  as  she  leans  into  her  knees  deeper  before  him  .          “     coward  ,      ”          comes  the  greedy  bite  .  she  spits  ,  blood  darkening  and  sizzling  with  smoke  as  it  touches  this  rotted  land  .  palms  come  up  to  wipe  her  lips  ,  tongue  refreshing  itself  with  the  taste  of  copper  .  she  is  full  of  need  .  he  makes  her  so  hungry  ,  so  full  of  want  .  this  butchery  of  peace  ,  a  slaughterhouse  of  serenity  —  he  does  not  know  what  depths  he  plunges  her  in  when  he  strikes  her  with  such  venom  .  her  head  of  grey  rises  ,  rolling  onto  her  shoulder  as  she  looks  at  him  with  eager  hate  .  yellow  eyes  glint  red  in  the  setting  sun  ,  the  skies  behind  them  lurching  into  the  moon ‘ s  quiet  embrace  .           “     you  can  do  better  .      ”          a  snarl  full  of  teeth  ,  gluttonous  laughter  burning  the  air  around  them  .  she  sees  only  him  ,  only  his  hurt  ,  only  the  way  that  his  force  met  hers  and  how  it  prickled  her  carnivorous  heart  .  so  she  drags  herself  to  his  feet  ,  wrapping  her  hands  around  his  right  wrist  and  luring  it  to  the  top  of  her  own  head  .  taking  each  finger  of  his  ,  she  pushes  it  into  her  hair  with  ease  .          “     you  know  this  dance  ,  don ’ t  you  ?       ”           her  hand  sliding  on  top  of  his  now  ,  finger  to  finger  ,  pushing  his  hand  in  until  he  has  a  grip  on  her  own  head  .  she  feels  a  familiar  beast  crawl  onto  her  face  ,  this  throat  that  grinned  with  teeth  .          “      finish  it  ,      ”          lowly  growls  ,  bloody  and  blooming  ,  a  wretched  flower  dangling  in  her  mouth  with  poisoned  honey  .           “     and  i’ll  let  you  eat  my  heart  .      ”

                 they dangle like marionettes ,   strings pulled thin  &  worn  like the strands of heated taffy as they circle ,    puppetered by devolved instinct .    she presents an itch he cannot scratch,   &   the back and forth upsets him as much as it soothes   ——   inevitable collision ,  a revelation of miserable ,  entwined fates as they lapse into familiar dance .    her desires are left like a stain ,    an unattractive air of dirty laundry on a busy street .   it lies unspoken ,   but his mind draws the same conclusion ,   fills in the gaps between the evocative statements ,   saturating sticky in the air .    &   by god ,   he tastes it well ,   the honey ache to hurt  &  be hurt :    the responding desire that buds deep within him ,  spills forth from the heavy tang of his gaze   ——  as if they are exactly where they want to be .

           in spite of his pride for the florid pantomime ,  they are but sleights to convince himself more than any other ,   a mindless distraction to ease the yawning ache of his starve .    arduous effort ,   to charm the weak with his wiles   &   effectuate the simulation of humanity    …     yet in truth ,    his existence anythingbut ,   the wild largeness   &   natural anarchy of his form suppressed in orderly constraint .     he’s forgotten how easy it is to drop the falsified vices ,   &   be .     【  HER SUGGESTIONS :    DEVIL - WHISPERS AT THE SHELL OF HIS EAR ,   THEY STOKE CHILLED FIRES   ——  】   &   he wants .    closes eyes to hear it ,   the brittle crack of her bones as he wrenches ,    the bruises etched onto that pallor skin  /   welling fluid .      “   only because i’m so kind,    ”     his reply comes haltingly .   not quite breathless ,    but verging thin .    he isn’t confident that his bluff holds no tell ,   but her own restless fidget at the hem of her dress    (   nails digging  &  shredding the lacklustre fabric   )     is remarkable mirror of his own impatience  ;    nothing left to hide .      the desire to sign away yet another century of his time surmounts ,    &   like the heavy sag of a rain - cloud just before it deigns to pour ,    he caves .

               he glances down at the bloodied corpses,  littered around her in bloody halo.  she does naught to lend to the idea of civility ,   naked body heaving with the predatory gait of malice ,    her tongue curling around sharp words :   armed . her outstretched hand only makes him laugh  ——   sore thumb in the surrounding wilderness ,   he muses mockery of her conduct .   he eyes her fingers ,   caked with blood .    “   i’m afraid i need a lot more from you to make this deal .   ”    he examines fingertips ,   slow musing as if he still is in throe of contemplation ,    heavy gaze sliding through her ,    he wonders where the brand will appear    ——   usually ,   it appears somewhere dear to the mark ,   an eye ,  the tongue ,  over the heart .    he wonders if that would hold true for her .    seeing the bright pulse of her soul has him impatient ;    he licks his lips ,    the question tripping on his tongue ,   hasty :     “   how about a taste first ?    ”   

what does your muse smell like?      someone who’s been camping for too long . more earthy , burnt smells . lake water , dirt , muck , burnt wood , blood . time to time , she’ll smell more like a butcher’s shop mixed in with mud .

what do your muse’s hands feel like?      rough , not really delicate . bony and spindly , more long than large , but still a little larger than the average hand . they’re usually stained with dirt , speckles of blood and ash . while she floats down rivers regularly , she always finds a way to ruin the ‘bath’ she had just taken .

what does your muse usually eat in a day?      mostly whatever she can find roaming around that she can catch . she doesn’t have to eat , but she does it out of boredom / obsession . wild deer , rabbits , sheep , cougars , coyotes , and so on . more likely than not , an animal carcass left behind . other times , she’ll dig up graves if she hasn’t made a meal of someone already . her obsessions go farther to ingesting hair , dead skin cells , nails , eyes , eyelashes , bandages , etc .

does your muse have a good singing voice?      no , not at all . her voice is more comparable to a deep toned hyena with a speck of feminine tones , all raspy and as smooth as chunky peanut butter .

does your muse have any bad habits or nervous tics?      a lot of bad habits . looming over people , fingers twitching when she’s impatient , touching her lips , plucking at her eyelashes , peeling off her own fingernails , chewing through her own fingers if she’s left to her own devices .

what does your muse usually look like/wear?      usually naked . only wears clothes when she wants to actively blend in with civilization . marked with dried mud and dirt all over her arms and legs , face marred similarly . occasionally , a bloody mess . her clothes can vary depending on what era she’s blending into . recently , a torn up wedding dress or oversized pants and an untucked , open dress shirt . underwear was never an option .

is your muse affectionate?  how much?  how so?     technically , yeah . but obviously in not conventional ways ------ her affection is a thin border between violence and obsession . stalking , possessiveness , doting , all the way to eating the person’s belongings . not just material ones , but their nail clippings , loose strands of hair , and so on . Escalation goes into murder . She wants to literally keep them forever , and means of doing so is eventually ingesting them , keeping their body parts with her 24/7 , laying inside of them via prying ribs open and nesting nearest to their heart , and other ways of getting close to them .

what position does your muse sleep in?      she doesn’t sleep . the closest thing would be her closing her eyes and mimicking sleep , which in this case she ends up in a mangled position : arms spread and legs lazily hanging over something , almost like someone hanging over a tree branch and sleeping there .

could you hear your muse in the hallway from another room?  probably . when she wants to be quiet , she can be , but most of the time she doesn’t care enough about concealing her presence so in general , she’s pretty well heard . someone dragging their feet as they walk , talking in a low hum with a lot of pauses in between . so long as there isn’t loud music blaring , its pretty easy to hear .

                    》   “   𝙻𝙰𝚂𝚃   𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶  .   “   there’s  something  so  uncanny  about  this  brand  of  fear  he  likes  to  pretend  he  doesn’t  feel  .  there  is  fear  and  there  is  this  .  this  unbridled  ,  monstrous  atmosphere  he  has  only  felt  around  she  .  around  them  .  it  could  almost  be  the  first  time  all  over  again  :  she  is  looming  ,  ghastly  and  larger  than  he  could’ve  imagined  ,  yet  in  this  moment  she  is  overly  human  .  dangerously  .  one  false  move  ———   “   whether  you’re  with  sephiroth  or  not  ,  i  won’t  hesitate  .  “  her  ever  so  desired  hunk  of  metal  peels  off  his  back  slowly  ,  held  to  the  side  .  materia  glimmers  in  each  socket  .  his  eyes  shine  in  the  threatening  dark  .  careful  now  ,  don’t  start  the  drumming  in  my  heart  .   “   i  want  you  out  of  my  way  .   “