𝘗ˢ͟(I)𝜎̵ИI𝐶𝖆L

THEY WENT DEEPER INTO THIS DESOLATE HELL UNTIL THE WALLS THEMSELVES SEEMED TO MOCK HIM. THE CRIES OF THE INDISPOSED BECAME MORE VIVID WITH EVERY STEP TAKEN. THEIR DESTINATION, AS LOVINGLY PREDETERMINED BY THE ICE-QUEEN, WAS THE LONE HOLDING CELL AT THE END OF THE HALL WHERE A GREAT, MECHANICAL DOOR CONFINED THE GROTESQUE TRUTH OF HER DISEASED FLEDGLING. THERE, IN THE CORNER: A HEAP OF DULL, SALLOW SKIN AND SLOW, AFFLICTED GROANS WAS THE SUBJECT AND LINGERING JUST ABOVE IT WERE A PAIR OF BLOOD-SHOT EYES AND A WHITE HALO OVER A MOUND OF UNWASHED, MATTED HAIR (HE DETESTED FLUORESCENT LIGHTING). HER RED MOUTH WAS GAPING AND LIKE DEW SEEPING FROM A FRESH BUD, SALIVA TRICKLED DOWN HER ENGORGED NECK AMONG WHISPERS FOR THE EMBRACE OF THE WHITE WITCH. IT WAS A HORRIFIC SIGHT. THE SURGEON AVERTED HIS GLACIAL EYE AS IF HE HAD WITNESSED A SCENE ALTOGETHER TOO-INTIMATE SUCH AS THE RECONCILIATION BETWEEN MOTHER AND (DYING) DAUGHTER. HE BIT HIS SINNER'S TONGUE.

"SHE WAS DIFFERENT THIS MORNING HOW?" VALLIERÉ ASKED, STOICALLY SHEDDING HIS DARK BLAZER LIKE A SERPENT SHEDS ITS SECOND SKIN; HE DRAPED IT OVER HIS FOREARM AND ENSURED HIS GLOVES WERE STILL SNUGLY OVER HIS PALMS. "DETAILS, MISS FROST. I NEED THEM ALL." URGENCY INUNDATED HIS BELLOWING TONE; HE WAS, HOPELESSLY, AT HIS CORE, A MEDIC A MODERN AESCULAPIUS ALWAYS TEETERING AT THE THIN CUSP OF GODHOOD, HUNGRY FOR APOTHEOSIS. "I'M GOING TO APPROACH HER. I UNDERSTAND SHE'S SEDATED, BUT I'D LIKE YOU TO ENSURE SHE DOESN'T MAUL ME IN THE PROCESS."

never had she held something so delicate in the palm of her hand than the moment she slid her fingers into opposing, limp grasp. her tenure was almost religious; knees preparing to wilt ﹠ collapse beneath her tall, empyrean stature, as if she had been a dying lilium clinging ‘pon it’s fragile stem to beg god for her forgiveness to what she had let seep through the cracks of her supposed sanctorium. 

in that brief moment she had been lost to the besiege alongside her barking out an adjure until his shadow swathed both she ﹠ the enervated ‘ patient ‘ in his colossal entrant : masking the cloying reek of iron rot and bitter sweat with his holy, medicinal scent. agitation begins to arise ﹠ emma squeezes down hard to hold the body still. 

❝   she was coherent. not hamstrung with agony. she was able to speak clearly but minorly fatigued … a small complaint of neuralgia. but now … it appears she's being attacked from within.   ❞  

swirling ﹠ pulsing around him. within and without. occupying the tiniest crack in his consciousness, a gelid invasion constricts his psyche with the effortless embrace of her frore anima swathing him yet again.  she does not interfere with trivial questions. instead, observing on her own from inside.  SEEING THROUGH HIS EYES : TASTING THE WORDS RACING THROUGH HIS MIND ON THE TIP OF HER TONGUE. perplexity was a bitter flavor. 

unspoken     words     rest     on     tongue,     webbed     together     by     the     strongest     muscles,     yet     it     is     unable     to     formulate     any     words     to     display     his     emotion.     

@psifrost:     don't     ask     me     where     i've     been,     i've     been     avoiding     everything.

WHEN          SHE          SPEAKS:     his     body     becomes     rigid,     incredibly     still,     puffing     out     an     exhale,     watching     the     soul     escape     through     his     mouth     ...     

AS     SHE     PURPOSEFULLY     AVOIDS     ALL:     he's     been     shying     away     from     anything     that     isn't     HOME.     an     urge     to     free     himself     from     these     shackles,     but     an     underlying     fear     of     what     will     come     to     him.     THE     WOLF     does     not     understand.     truthfully, the     wolf:     has     never     known     home.

"     WHY?     you     have     something..     (     out     there,     away     from     me.     )     "     something     he     will     not     UNDERSTAND.     bitterness     floods     his     being,     an     envy     of     normalcy     that     they     are     allowed     to     experience.     

      ❝   right   now   i   have   no   home.      i   do   not   belong   existing   among   them.         ❞      

long,   pale   blonde,   nearly   white   hair   –   spilled   over   narrow   shoulders.   an   ivory   tussore   gown   just   thick   enough   to   not   expose   porcelain   flesh   ‘neath   it’s   gentle,   yet   loose,   embrace.   THE   WHITE   WILIS,      NAY’         WITCH?         NO!         QUEEN!      

and   when   he   spoke,   she   found   herself   diving   into   the   depths   of   his   mind   :   swimming   deeply   in   the   dark   sanctuary   of   ones   most   intimate   chasm   and   inside   there   …   she   was   greeted   by   the   brutal,   off-whitish   teeth   of   the   almost   grinning   great   beast.   blood   seeped   from   between   its   gums,   dripping   off   of   its   jowls.   the   smell   of   its   breath   was   that   of   decay,   with   skin   torn   and   hanging   from   the   wet   of   his   claws.               BUT   ALAS,         THAT   WAS   ONLY   WITHIN   THE   TOMB   OF   HIS   MIND.         and   what   she   found   in   there   was   a   secret   she   dare   not   to   ask.         

      ❝   not   forever,   no.   eventually   i   will   have   to   go   back.         i   have   a   life   that   i   can’t   run   away   from.         but   right   now,   i   can’t   face   it.      i   can’t   face   what   i’ve   done.   the   people   i’ve   hurt…   maybe   that   makes   me   a   coward.         so   be   it.            the   only   one   who   has   to   endure   my   shame   is   myself.         id   rather   deal   with   it   in   peace…         ❞      

emma   steps   further   with   a   narrow   slit   to   her   gaze   as   she’s   trying   to   read   further   past   the   abyss   of   his   eyes.   but   all   she   can   hear   is   snarling …ripping ….crunching ….

         a glimmering whirl of white glides past her eyes in the distance,   dragging honeybee’s eyes to the bar.   her head follows,   oblivious to other skaters until another nudges her in the shoulder     (watch it!   they shout,)     and she flusters     (s-sorry!)     before rolling past the crowd and making her way to the bar.

          the bar is a bit darker than the rest of the rink,   which makes sense since the skating ring itself hogged all the spotlight.     only accented neon lights illuminate the bar,   an otherworldly feeling surrounding it like an aura.     honeybee had seen bars before     (—)     she certainly knew people drank there.     bars served alcohol and the like but so very rarely would anyone be able to say they wanted   just alcohol.     honeybee tried beer before so maybe…     but she thinks about it again and how vile it tasted…     she shakes her head at the thought as she finally rolls up to the bartender.

          it isn’t long before the bartender asks what she wants     (—)     and for once,   honeybee doesn’t have an answer.     (uhm…   could you give me a second?)     she goes to think,   hoping to remember any kind of alcoholic drink that sounds appealing but comes up empty…     out of the corner of her eye,   she spots the familiar glittery-bolt beside her.     without hesitation,   she orders     (—)     and all too eager to give into desperation,     honeybee turns to her before she skates off.

though   her   spurious   flirtation   is   interrupted   (   and   welcomed   )   with   a   voice   piercing   through   the   stereo;   among   a   roaring   of   voices   and   laughter.      ❝               huh?               ❞            she   says   :   turning   her   attention   to   the   malachite   minaret   paramounting   above   emma   (   and   everyone   else’s   )   humanly   stature.      royal   blues   meet   with   reflecting   black   chasms   and   she   can’t   help   but   to   find   herself   lost   in   the   depths   and   wondering   how   they   must   gleam   under   the   reflection   of   the   surrounding   lights   on   the   main   floor.   

ah   a   mutant   wintry   emblem   voice   reverberates   among   her   own   neural   cerebrum,         emma   finally   spreads   a   pearly   beam   toward   the   being;         snuggling   herself   up   next   to   her   as   best   as   she   could   without   having   to   strain   her   throat,   roaring   over   the   bustling   crowd.     

❝               i   guess   it   depends   on   what   sort   of   flavor   you   like.      sour?   ….   sweet?         …..   bitter?               i   tend   to   enjoy   the   burn.         but   if   i   had   to   guess,         you   might   be   a   tequila   sunrise.      or   maybe   even   a   piña   colada.                     ❞      

TELEPATHY, SURELY. THERE WAS NO OTHER PLAUSIBLE EXPLANATION AS TO WHY HER COLD ARTICULATION ECHOED, PRESENTLY, WITHIN HIS PRIVATE LOBE. MUTANTS WERE WALKING AMALGAMATIONS OF ABERRANT GENES STILL IN THE INCIPIENCE OF SCIENTIFIC UNDERSTANDING; IN ALL THE GLORY OF HER MORTAL EXTERIOR, HE'D NEARLY FORGOTTEN THE DIM TRUTH OF HER MONSTROUS EXISTENCE. A BLACK HAND CLUTCHED HIS TEMPLE. THOUGH GLACÉ ORGAN-FLESH AND TEPID BLOOD LIVED WITHIN THEM BOTH, HER GENETIC COMPOSITION WAS INSTEAD THE PAINTED WORK OF AN EXTRAORDINARY TALENT WHILE HIS, DULL AND FINITE, WAS BUT THE COMMON STROKE OF AN UNINSPIRED ARTIST. THE DEMEANING CURVATURE OF HER PRIM, POMPOUS SMILE ARRESTED HIM THUS. A MAGNIFICENT BEAST AMONG MERE MEN AND SHE KNEW IT; THE HAUGHTY PREDATOR THAT FLAUNTS ITS GREAT WHITE TEETH TO THE GUILELESS MARTYR.

"I WOULDN'T HAVE ACCUSED YOU OF CRUELTY," REPLIED HE, AMBLING IN HER SHADOW, COMFORTABLE IN THE VEIL OF FAMILIARITY PROFFERED BY WHAT WAS A DARK SLIVER OF SPACE. EMBRON RETURNED HIS HANDS TO HIS TROUSER POCKETS, CAREFUL TO MIND HIS EYE. "YOU DID THE RIGHT THING. BY NATURE, MUTANT DNA IS ENIGMATIC AND DIFFICULT TO PREDICT, BUT GENERALLY, IT DEMONSTRATES TRAITS OF INCREDIBLE IMMUNITY AND VIRAL RESISTANCE. THAT'S PARTLY WHY THE RAPIDITY OF CONTAMINATION IN THIS INSTANCE IS ALARMING. WHEN IT COMES TO THE BRAIN'S TISSUE," A TINGE OF NOSTALGIA, PERHAPS? SOMETHING VAGUELY TENDER SEEPED FROM THE ADMISSION, "IT IS BEST TO ERR ON THE SIDE OF CAUTION."

    brief     pause     of     herself     is     that     of     a     hex     on     its     own     violently     eerie,     perturbed     scale     of     stillness.     once     finally     expressed,     each     brumal     assertion     are     more     frigid     than     the     last     :     razor     blades     lacerating     through     gullet,          maiming     esophagus     on     their     way     out.                         ❝                  examine     them     yourself.                        ❞                    inertia     seethes     from     her     pores;     though     internally     her     heart     breaks ....     shattering     in     the     ache     of     where     her     womb     lay     with     the     rest     of     unwanted     sympathies,     forever     entombed.               

THE     VERY     AIR     BLED     WITH     A     VILE     UPHEAVING     OF     DOLOROUS     INIQUITY.     beguiled     by     the     bright     -     lighted     pastures     of     a     large,     blank     canvas     unfurled     before     them     as     the     door     spread     wide     like     mary     magdalene's     legs.         splatterings     of     black     ﹠     red     botched     this     vestal     sight     with     a     calamity     of     bereaved     woes     that     sat     in     a     deprived     corner     of     the     white     room with a menacing     pair     of     eyes     staring     back     at     their     ( unwanted? untimely? ) presence.     jaundiced     grotesque     yellow     hues     of     the     sclera     bleeding     into     iris     with     veins     swollen     ﹠     crimson   -  shot.     about     to     burst!              

  she     is     unmoving.     mouth     agape,     saliva     trickled     down     the     pupil’s     jaw.     severely     induced     in     a     sedative     :     but     aware     all     the     same.     

the     girl's     head     twitches.     SOMETHING     LINGERS     BEHIND     HER     BLEAK     GAZE     as     if     it’s     taking     control     of     the     body     ﹠     birthing     anew.               yet     …     whispers     are     calling     out     to     emma     for     an     embrace.     dare     she     tread     that    infectious    chasm     ﹠     converse     with     the     virus     that     corrupts     …               or     is     it     wanting     to     take     hold     of     the     white     queen.     much     like     it     has     already     corrupted     this     vessel     here?          

𝒇𝔱 . @005198