𝐎𝐇, 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐀 𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄 of blood and destruction! the crown moulding is no longer crisp and white, now misted with blood and viscera as crawling flames lap almost giddily at the ceiling. the red rug that hosted large banquets and grandiose gatherings has become a wet bed of iron and death, a final resting place for those that dared to stand proudly before the demon known as mephistopheles — they have paid the price, now laid up in piles, exterminated in droves. despite the mess and chaos, no one is left behind; a clean job, for the work that @gluttons does.
𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐑 that can be found, a burst of pink petals swirls, coiling into themselves like a tornado as they collect into the form of the god of pink, piece by piece. today, he dons a white suit, starched and pressed, with a pink tie that spells out the purpose for his visit, depicted by a little black devil embroidered at the knot. ( he thinks it's cute, though he finds that most of his peers never seem to like the tie designs that he conjures up. )
❝ 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐋, ❞ for the both of them. fleurano revels deeply in the raw, unbridled screaming — the terror, the pain; all magnificent ways to enter the realm of eternal damnation. yet, the devil deigns to smile. yet, he dusts his hands and feels ready to call it a day. all sad admittances. to his displeasure, he'd shared this feast with one that had grown dispassionate, that seems to have lost the purpose in his ways. what a shame, truly. ❝ you found it dull, though. what's your deal? ❞
