GENTLE FINGERS, warm fingers, decorated with ruby - tipped, golden claws, toy with a red curl cascading like blood along her shoulder. her gaze holds steady to that of her companion, the claws of her other hand tapping their rhythm against the IVORY of their shared table. ❝ THINK OF ME HOWEVER YOU’D LIKE, ELIZABETH. far be it from me whether you consider me DEVIL OR DEITY. but you know, surely you know, my title does not come from love alone. ❞ her fingers abandon the curl, both hands now reaching for the countess’ as she leans forward, sympathy drawing at her brows, her lips, the vivacious green of her eyes. ❝ let me help you. if i am not a DEVIL, then surely my husband is enough for us both. this land is ours, the people within are under our care. YOUR KING, as you call him, is nothing but a runaway child, far from a home that awaits his GRIEF. ❞
kingdom of death. LICHORICE













