*Shrugs* Something to read.
Ciel sat in the small cave, reading the small words engraved in the wall.
Amongst the flesh of the sacred gem, more scars and wounds she ever needed... She wore them with pride, claiming the blood on her enemies hands.
Swords she holds cut her deeply, but have also healed her wounds, gliding through the air, wounding everything that would lay a claw on her.
A courageous young soul, her mind corrupted at a young age.
Ebony hair grew long, vines entangling with one likes spirits, whispering to each other.
Emerald eyes that could unlock your secrets through any barrier you put up, they would whisper into her prey, weakening them as they tried to poison her skin with unholy wounds.
Her lips, blood red and thirsting, sharp fangs hidden, as you lay your finger on the lip, they were both soft as a feather brushing against skin.
Wings, soft and smooth, belonging on an angel, were shed.
Ashes coating her lungs, a silver necklace of the father, a ring of trust from the lover, scars from the loving companion.
She will hold their cold corpses with fingers coated in tears.
Blow cold kisses with split lips.
Shed emerald stares.
Now feathers of spirits gather, growing, creating her Wings of Death.
He sat in the small cave, running his finger over every word...
Ciel sat in the small cave, reading the small words engraved in the wall.
Amongst the flesh of the sacred gem, more scars and wounds she ever needed... She wore them with pride, claiming the blood on her enemies hands.
Swords she holds cut her deeply, but have also healed her wounds, gliding through the air, wounding everything that would lay a claw on her.
A courageous young soul, her mind corrupted at a young age.
Ebony hair grew long, vines entangling with one likes spirits, whispering to each other.
Emerald eyes that could unlock your secrets through any barrier you put up, they would whisper into her prey, weakening them as they tried to poison her skin with unholy wounds.
Her lips, blood red and thirsting, sharp fangs hidden, as you lay your finger on the lip, they were both soft as a feather brushing against skin.
Wings, soft and smooth, belonging on an angel, were shed.
Ashes coating her lungs, a silver necklace of the father, a ring of trust from the lover, scars from the loving companion.
She will hold their cold corpses with fingers coated in tears.
Blow cold kisses with split lips.
Shed emerald stares.
Now feathers of spirits gather, growing, creating her Wings of Death.
He sat in the small cave, running his finger over every word...
