sometimes perfection can be perfect hell

Fate changed faster than the death of light, and no stain on the moon was laid, still the sunken stars came, and from their crowns constellations waked. Horizonless skies bled down from the heavens and claws of treachery emerged from hell to a world cynical for destruction. Thus she fell onward from heaven and hell's decadence. Tucked away in the covers of dimmed moonlight was a sanguine rouge figure. Legs concussed under her at rapid fire pace with exasperated breath illuminating the air in puffs of pale white. A peroxide gaze pierced the unrelenting shadows ahead, her pelt taking swipes from low hanging branches and marring her in minor cuts. However it kept her awake with sensation.

How long she had been compelled to run? Beyond her recognition - nothing looked familiar. No scent. No sight. Not even the empty brutality of frost bit air. Where she hailed from these whimsical flecks of white powder did not exist and the chill that caressed her even more nameless. What had she done? Where had she gone? Uncertain, she peered back over her hindquarters scouting her surroundings contemplating the events that had brought her to this foreign land.

If you want to get out alive, run for you life.

The hymn of unyielding passion behind that death threat resonated with her like claws of a jackal scratching down raw, naked backbone. That must have been what it was like to feel pure, unadulterated fear. How pitifully beautiful. Red liquid gold seeped out, washing along her horns, then dripping to the thirst trodden ground, pooling faster than it could drink. Sprawled out limp the tasteful sound of a lifeless corpse dislodging from her grasp rang out then slopped to the ground. She was many of things, but a murderer not till that night. That was her courtesy call and thus she fled.

Relentless, the rhythmical pattern of her hooves provided one last burst of haste, before exhaustion beckoned her to a sweet embrace. The curves of her lithe silhouette were wet with sweat and surreal numbness conquered her lower extremities. An eerie silence betook the stage around her as she was nearly brought to her knees. Surely she would be safe now. Madness would not follow her this far, or would it? Frigid air hit her lungs as she swallowed a bountiful amount of air and stood still cheating the uncanny tranquility. "A queen needs no king..." Those vowels and consonants spilled from her lips and Helena mused up at a star littered sky. The conflicting emotion infecting her eyes turning to smug certainty.