TAKE HEED OF DIABLERIE & DIREMPTION, DEAR DAUGHTER, doth whisper a voice most eidolic into an ear so cautelously pricked. there is naught but catastasis & carnage to be found among circe’s children, my love. a girl whose lungs still SWELL WITH CINDERS knows these beasts better than all; she shares her bed with cataclysm’s heavy weight, & every evening doth she dine on thooid horror, lycaon’s sons crunching ‘twixt her teeth. do not trust the witches, she thinks; how lepid indeed, that even here, among her own rameal lands, the teratism of trust doth leap away from her doorway in fright. what a beast. what a beast indeed. --------- it is that VOLTAIC tang in the air, that crepitation ‘pon her nape, a susurrus most secretive among this STIFLING nemoral silence, that has her hackles rising. the darach, she has heard, can spin the sky such, & it is sworn that no malefic shall claim hale bones & hale blood ‘til eschaton’s kiss doth crack open that empyreal welkin, pomegranate-skinned. cora is relict, is skelic home & soot-stained stones. no dynasty ends in this way. no witch takes wolf under her sway. ❛ if you’re trying to be quiet, you’re doing a pretty shitty job of it. ❜