@soullessnight LIKED for a starter !!
there was a woman --- a meeting place of two souls, a twisted and cruel woman-shaped thing. this woman commanded the workers with a flick of her black-gloved hand and no more. this was her domain, her kingdom. meela looked onto the desert, onto the canvas of all her dreams. images of fleshy corpses, a void denser than black, and a sweet golden touch that could save her from it all still teased her, but she was close. she knew this, as certain as the human heart of her still beat, beat, beat in her chest.
yet as certain as she was of this truth, she was equally certain of something else, something far more troubling --- somewhere, somewhere close, someone longed to stop her. ( another dream, one that caused her to wake in the night and vomit: a beautiful blade, the blade of a god, plunging into her stomach. a condemnation in this life and the next. ) red paranoia crept into her throat, clutching tight, and she gestured for one of the workers to come forward.
she did not recognize him, but it did not matter. he did not matter. “tell me... what is your name?” her voice, soft and sweet, could be heard only by him. he may not matter, but she stared at him as though he did. ( for what better way to assure herself than to reinforce her command? ) “i so rarely get the opportunity to speak to my workers, but without you, this vast enterprise would not flourish as it has.”
