|
Eloquent heartstrings, like the taffeta wings of seraphic grandeur, harkened to the brooding earth, a siege of warmth against the glade of tyranny, damnation and debauchery. An act of defiance fluttered through its gaze, one armed with a wide smile and fairy dust, hastening to the elegance, the finery, of bestial delusion: coveting and polishing until the radiance of archaic design resonated along the darkened chambers. Through the flood of unkempt misery, the wandering souls of yesterday’s paradise and today’s solemn melancholies, came the aloft paradigm of bewitching, alluring cordiality; an otherworldly possession. Condemned before, but anointed thereafter. Amongst the laments and dirges, the keens for guidance, support, and love, arrived the tender plucking of dulcet lullabies. A soft croon, a smooth hum, trilling from the lavished, affable presence of a lost soul, given to pestilence but taken into the arms of virtue. Fostered by taint, but removed and ravished into the melodies of morality. Where sin scorched and scarred, goodness prevailed, covered, veiled from the cruel, morose indulgences of a vindictive creation: what could have been, what could still be. Lacquered in the boughs of benevolence, the harmonious, mellifluous conviction of an angelic creature drove away the monstrous contortions, creations, of unholy turbulence. She knew despair, tragedy and anarchy, but chose the soothing conjectures of something never given to her own body. Not bitter, not sullied, too strong to be buried beneath the ancient waves of insurrection and vile, fiendish acts. Now, she was a nymph, settling into the twisted glade, brushing against the feral indignities and remaining all the same, the ardor of life sliding, slipping, into her veins, in her fine, satin motions, in the beguiling spell she wove into the leaves. A touch, and it was varnished into the divine. A caress, and it was enameled into the beatific. To the heavens, she was forgotten, and to the iniquitous, she was naught, and so she bloomed where no one could see, blossomed where no one could touch, and unraveled from the taut bows of atrocious turmoil into something opulent, magnificent.
Yet, she was not alone in this majesty.
The crush of leaves, brush, and lines of soil hastened her attention. At once, she ceased movement. Poised like a deer, each fine curve of her frame stilled, motionless to the sounds of the wavering oaks, the candid songbirds, the husky bellows of a forgotten stranger. Her lithe body allowed one flick of her ear, swiveling towards the resonant cadence of footfalls, hooves striking along the kindred layers. It echoed, closer and closer, until the scent of another entered her narettes. She breathed in deeply, enamored her senses to this other creature. Eyes searched, narrowing for a silent, minute period of time – a flash of silver caught her stare, another mystery laden for the wood. But it was soft, restless, a toiling of youth that she could relate to, and she smiled, this fascinating Lena, unto the other. This feminine aura, this tangible spirit, did not possess the same graceful motions and motives, but was transfixing all the same. Her hide rippled with a magical contentment that Lena herself could not possess, an enchantment that bore no falsehoods, genuine, free, veritable, authentic, real. She followed, this argent femme, and so Lena laughed, shuffled again, gathered her movements into supple finesse, painted and sculpted with her feet, breathed a low whisper for the admirer. "Come, come, little rabbit.” What followed was a grin and a laugh, louder than the lilting tone to her voice, but still, soft and lyrical.
Enamored with her attendant, the unicorn came across another flourishing in the glade. Charming, charismatic, he too bloomed with another form of charity – and it made Lena wonder all the while why she had not wandered here many ages ago, before the crusade of depravity shown its vivid skull in her eyes. Her mahogany eyes glanced at his mismatched pair, and her grin grew ever wider in the realm of this vibrant, intense tranquility. They were all striking, this mottled trio, hardy, strong, not withering to the cataclysmic designs of nefarious devils or the luring sheen of mayhem. Home and shelter, she knew they represented these wondrous things in the brine of revolution. So she answered, kind, elegant, captivating, the nymph child, the once-damned, for she considered herself lucky as well, blessed, charmed in this calm, composed instant. She winked, laughed again. "Shall you always be fortunate, Aurelius. I am Lena.”
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
