#lamortdemort

lamortdemort wants to rule the world.

Vines, dead and dying, encrusted ruins of a once grand manor.  T w i s t i n g , contorting into each crevice the plants used every possible nook as purchase to climb higher. What man insisted on conquering with greys and tans, mud and fire, reclaimed it’s place with a vengeance. Unhindered nature took it’s course. Stone walls sagged under the pull. Where collapse suffocated the waring plants, tenfold sprung forth. Verandas hung precariously, attached only by the tangled green tentacles. 

A scourge on the sweeping Italian hills that just a year ago roared with life. Echos of another life ran rampant. Ghosts colliding, blending together. Singing blades, rainbow smoke, naked bodies, a waterfall deep in the wood, voices from beyond the veil. The magic that tempted them, what they birthed in the night... a lone hand hovered -just- over the crumbling stone... it called to them, pulsing through veins, throbbing in joints. 

Beautiful in it’s destruction. 

Long,  l a n g u i d  strides drew Astoria farther along the edge of the ruin. Eyes closed she reveled in the ache of her bones. A dull ache. It smoldered with every step the glow flickered inside her yearning, begging for that spark. A devilish grin spread across her face, there it was. Turning, her eyes leveled on the figure shrouded in shadow.