β weβre safe, arenβt we? β
πππ ππππππ ππππππππ ππππππππ
@flowercovered
ππππππππ πππππππ πππππ πππππππ πππππ nimble fingers labors through demonic effervescent. sharp and suffocating : it tears through unseen flesh and atoms until it is met with holy retribution. behold, the power of a priestess. purity-wielded. virtuous. restrained. ebony strands tugs alongside faded gesture and ivory ribbon. silence commands certainty, and with it comes prodigal potency. she has never lacked for skills, and sending prayers was nothing more than routine. the gods scorn her and the demons fears her perfection. gentle diligence whispers orison from her lips and as she turns to you, she regals you with her own keen observation.
β your heart ... is troubled, is it not ? β she can sense yearning hidden within the mist. an unhealthy obsession nearly in par with a deceitful spider, and yet unlike him, in the place of hatred was overshadowed with love. β this fog is connected to you. or rather, it was made for you. β the problem lies deeper in the unknown and regardless of it's intent the fact remains that it must be destroyed. β if you allow me, i can end it and the fog should no longer haunt you. but, know that you will never receive the closure you seek. is this what you desire ? β













