SUNSHINE SHIMMERED UP FROM ABOVE, CASCADING OVER THE LIKES OF THIS HOLY GROUND. the pair found themselves embedded in the heart of an abandoned chapel, overgrown and overrun by fungus of some kind. no doubt an ode to dreary southern gothic, fit for present company. you’ll have to excuse her, savior loves a cliche metaphors. as seen by the scene unfolding. hollow bones being wound by war—torn tendrils, infront of make—shift cross, on an altar. oh, it’s a heart—breaking thing——————they sent him to @arkhengel death again, unknowingly. man of x had a habit, so she’d heard. a wayward scout was meant to keep a watchful eye from the clouds. too bad they didn’t anticipate pamela & her affinity for surprise. green—made woodland pterodactyls embroidered in cherry—word and blackened heart were almost as brave as warren & thrice as cruel... now cruelest of all standing next to them, using loose feather to trace vines around their wrist. humming terrible things into the comfort of thorn—ridden locks.. “ they call you angel, a little on the nose, don’t you think? “
mutant is already seething, brutally beautiful and picked clean of all utility / mobility.. though she cannot read his mind, she knows movements. she reads them as hostile before he’s granted any real freedom; green eyes dimmer to a soul—crushing amber, unkind words follow, “ it would be best if you behave. or should i remind you know what happened to icarus? “ is that a threat? a promise blooming just out of glance? the green will never let her her next move. she’s up again. tendrils are rolling and slithering underneath her feet, cocooning upon wretched venus.
