#˖ ✃ 𓂃 ( ɪ. replies . ࿐

[unsister]

[ 📞 ] ‘ you’re lying. ’

       POT CALLING THE KETTLE BLACK,    THAT IS ALL THIS WAS.   a platinum strand of hair is wrapped and then promptly unwrapped around an elegant index finger.    propped between her chin and shoulder is the disposable cell with its hum of static and malice emanating through the speaker   (    looks like someone found my note!    )   she had hoped he would consider it a parting gift and she was rewarded by the high chime in her pocket.   

       talking in circles,    this is what she does and she is quite the show woman when she puts her back into it.   ❛   eli,    don't be so dramatic.   ❜    eyes of coal rolling back into her head   ━    this was like asking an angel not to fall.    WHAT WAS IT THEY SAID ABOUT BEAUTY AND CORRUPTION?    sighing into the receiver she takes the device into her hand finally pressing it into the shell of her ear.    ❛   you can admit you called just to hear my voice...   ❜    more subterfuge,    a way to lessen this knife's point of severity.   she knew she was a target but she had the advantage of being one in motion. 

       ❛   but i'm not telling you where i am,    what would be the fun in that?    ❜    outside the train window the world passes by in a blur of sunshine and green.    cheek against the glass her breath further misting up her view.    ❛   i know you like a game of cat and mouse.    you just might be surprised to learn you're not the only one here with claws.   ❜   although she had never gotten close enough to him to use the non-metaphorical sort.    he knew better than most,    her words laced with venom after nearly dying from exposure.   ❛   any last words before i toss this phone in the bin?   ❜  

PHONE CALL PROMPTS ˖ ✃ ( accepting !

[unsister]

[ 📞 ] ‘ are you in trouble? ’

          A MOON HOOKED AT THE BASE OF HER THROAT,   MORE AN OMEN THAN INJURY.   on occasion the scar throbs with the ache of a past becoming.   her true body just beneath the surface although whatever she was did not adhere to conventional identity of perfection.   beauty in all its forbidden hues she can hear the sweet,   honey-suckle sigh on the other end of line.   for a moment,   it is the same cadence of her own breath.   an echo sung back to her as she grasps at her own through,   vines unwinding within her lungs,   unspooling up her esophagus   (   what a morbid centerpiece she would make a rotten limbs and skin veined with lichen   )   

          ❛   no love everything is as peachy as can be…  ❜   a hissing whisper,   clove smoke and bile she can feel herself turning inside out but laughs across the static   ❛   how long have i been missing this time?   were you worried about me,   daph?   ❜   the name reminds her of the myth,   the assumed delicacy of what grows leaves around it…   WE'RE NOT LIKE THAT ARE WE?   sighing she adjusts herself on the bedroom floor,   dirt strewn and mold-ridden.   she could just sink into the ground now but she could not afford to give the minotaur such satisfaction.   ❛   don't worry i won't die before that sodding bull sees the sharp end of my scissors.   ❜   a heavy gulp travels through the receiver then, putting her faith in the putrid tasting witch's brew.   then she coughs up a garden of oddities,   spilling from her lips are the soft gills of chanterelles.   once golden now wilting under the acidity of stomach fluid.   

          ❛   come pick me up already,   i'll be fine by the time you get here.   ❜   a voice raw from sick and yet she still manages to temper a tone that should be far more dire.  

PHONE CALL PROMPTS ˖ ✃ ( accepting !

[unsister]

better late than never tags!

[unsister]

         A LACK OF WHOLENESS LEADS TO A LACK OF DIGNITY,    then it came right back around to perfect delusion.     grey hollow has met her match though the inverted sister shows no signs of curbing her own curiosity.    for a moment she does contemplate groveling but it simply goes against the parasite nature to endure.    crush this flower under foot only to find its home is stored in the root tunneling into the soil below.       ❛   really?    that's quite unfortunate for you then,   makes me far less impressed too.   ❜  which was scarcely saying much,   dirt-streaked fingers itch for a pen for crisp paper to soak up her ink.     A MUSE HAS ALIGHTED;   SHE WEARS MIDNIGHT FOR A GOWN OVER HER POMEGRANATE SKIN.    endeavoring to commit this configuration of darkness to memory she meets those rows of eyes;    a mutual dissection.    

         ❛   you assume i didn't find you palatable before.    i tire of mortal guises…   i've worn my fair share there is no need to play pretend with me.      ❜  still there is the raising of fair brows at the flickering of feature    ━    a girl for a moment and then the demoness.    she is impressed then,   by the efficacy of the illusion,   how quickly it falls and then comes back into place.    there was some humanity to be found here but that is not what holds her intrigue captive.    this dueling of selves,   the acidity of a blood orange split in two.       ❛   they're quite fetching,    don't you agree?      ❜  grey is no woman of halves,   she arrives in a body with utter totality.     those marks,   those curling edges of her own soul,   are from prey who clawed against control and lost.    

         shrouding her purpose serves no one now.     has she not been well and truly had in this position?     what is asked of her is not so simply expounded upon but she does so;     low and lyrical.         ❛   i steal them,   i eat them,   i shape them,   i give them a home.    it depends on my mood.    it's thankless work really    ━      ❜  for what is left once she is through?   

“ evidently,    ” oh sore spot for the demon !   her patriarchal disappointment on how ineffectively her inheritance of this world has been never ceases to hurt her ego,    specially because she is often the main culprit of her failure.    she gives grey nothing,    not a speck of light in her duplicated irises,    not a sincere twirl of lips.    although this rotting woman cradles the most charm - filled needlework for hands,    raven has still not chosen where she swings in the pendulum of animosity.    although her father would say,    lack submission is hostile by default,    and those pearly knees do not seem to be crumbling into penance anytime soon.    “ i am not omnipotent.    ” at least,    she finds the pretty invader has some pride to exploit,    or vanity,    and even if that escapes her domain,    it is close enough she might grace her sharp nails against it and see if it can bleed.   

“ i sense you would not give me the same courtesy you ask if i were to show myself as…  ” with a twirl of her wrist she wears her human body as if showing a new accessory,    “ … something more palatable.    ” unnaturally,    her face smiles,    squinting her fragile appearance into something macabre,    yet still not distorted.    if the prey - hood of her mother can be a detonative force to get anything from grey,    otherwise,    the return of her flesh,    red and true,    will be as succinct as a dying bolide.    her speech,    however,    does not alter into a softer voicebox.    it still bites and echoes,    and it is not nearly as riddled with melancholy. her eyes still puncture the darkness of the other’s unending pupils.   

“ you are a creature that deals with souls too,    are you not    ?    i can see the stains,    ” metaphysically,    intangible,    very real for a soul - seer,  visibly out of reach. she has no ( ungory ) means to know what are the bounds of the other if she has to remain in the periphery of her psyche.   “ what is your business with them    ?    ”

[unsister]

          ❛   don't be like that,   darling.   it's okay to miss me.   ❜  too quick his reply comes   (   got you   )   her fox grin reflecting back at her through the misted window.   understanding a killer comes from a place of personal experience.   grey's murders were simply the more elegant sort,   typically done at a distance while keeping her hands immaculately clean.   

          ❛   anything worth doing takes a risk.   besides,   hiding is no longer an option… so why not make this interesting for the both of us?   ❜   dashing her drawing with a swipe of her hand yet the evidence of it was still there in invisible ink.   he no longer was pretending to be amused,   good.   this worked better when they were both honest with one another.   keeping him to his word the accusation is pure steel between pearl teeth.   ❛   you don't want that   ━   stop pretending you do.   that would be too easy and do nothing for your ego.   ❜  there was a nobility in simplicity,   in making things neat.   eli liked to believe he was tidy but that could not be further from the truth.   ❛   i'll be sure to draw this chase out,   just for you.   ❜

❝  perhaps not at all,  ❞   eli shot back coolly,   irritability taking a backseat to something more self-assured.   he may have forced it,   the resurgence of this sudden,   eerie calm,   but now that it had taken root,   it would be hard for anyone to rattle him again.   

❝  i don't think you understand.   having my attention isn't a good thing at all,   grey   —   because it means that i'll never stop looking for you.   you won't survive this.  ❞   as eli spoke,   his knee bounced restlessly and his fingers gripped the firm outer lines of his cell phone,   not necessarily out of anger or frustration,   but urgency.   a sudden need for thrill to break the growing monotony that had very recently become his life.   ❝  that won't be necessary,  ❞   he laughed.   and then,   his voice sinking self-righteously low:   ❝  you know,   i can make it quick.   painless.   aren't you tired of running?  ❞

[unsister]

         ❛   aren't you a lucky bird?   ❜   terror makes an unhealthy companion to her natural impishness,   this constant call towards indignation.   grey hollow was far outmatched in this instance yet her mouth could not quite catch up to her mouth despite the occasion   (   said occasion being:  a demon upon her doorstep   )   for that is what this threshold was,   a boundary line she was beginning to learn as a second residence.   ❛   or perhaps not...   ❜   pitch black descends and they are dithering amidst a river of ink.   the halfway becomes a vision of the past. perhaps this should broaden her already sizable disorientation but she is more fascinated by the flux state.   here the only safety she possessed was her guise and even that did not seem a thick enough armor against this particular interloper.   

         there was no flinching away from the needle point of extended claws.   in the woods she had danced with her fair share of devils.   the fae roots of her personhood curse her with a penchant for mischief and she is pixie-like in her grinning.   ❛   flattery will get you nowhere,   i'm afraid.   although,   if you're so clever and all-powerful,   why do you need me to explain it to you?   ❜  her head tilts to the side,   a curious expression   ━   as if they were studying one another.   on the precipice of a second death perhaps yet all the changeling can manage is the sly tilting of her eyes and a fervid hand wrapping around a damned wrist.   ❛   i'm just a vessel,   love.   sorry to disappoint.   ❜ 

         now this she understood;   the open-mouth of hunger.   strange cravings and epicurean desires.   almost,   just a smidge she could be sympathetic.   ❛   i would appreciate it if you took me to dinner first before you tried to take a bite out of me at the very least.   have you ever heard of the decency of offering a final meal?   ❜

“    please,    girl,    my arrival here was effortless.    ” condescending,    the prideful entity,    banished from humanity     (     dormant,    it bleeds and dies every second she’s in this serene evil       ),    sits by the metaphysical throne of her own cosmic glory.    “ places are unimportant to me,    i bend them to my will.    ” that wretched nature inspires her to show off:    their surroundings alter,    descending in darkness between flashing realities,    each more ugly and obscure,    before subduing the light enough to leave them in a black void.    meant not to fester fear,    but pace any growth.    life and death,    and all the stages in between exist in face of the sun and oxygen:    this dim fabricated dimension is pseudo - peace,    nothing exists where brightness dies.   

superbia in raven,    rightful and sole heir to trigon’s oblivion, inspects the decay - embroidered woman with nonchalance,    stepping close   (    too close   ) ...    in this vessel,    they are the same height,    uninspiring,    but what that crimson tetrad gaze conceals is the innocent curiosity of the knowledge - fed mist that she is behind all this glamorous cruelty.     with closer inspection,    a dark nail lifting gently the charcoal - eyed changelin's chin ( unnatural and tender,    she reeks of her fragility even in roughness ),    the corrupted empath rolls her eyes.    she does not release her,    yet exerts no force,    tacit permission of retreat.    and follows with words spoken in a calm,    omnipotent soon - to - be empress manner.

  “    i cannot feed from you.    your mind is tainted.    it might not be a mind at all.    where do you keep your pain,    empty girl      ? ”

[unsister]

        ❛   perhaps not at a distance,   ❜   presence mattered as much to the potency of her sway as the cadence of her voice.   there was a natural lull there in the honey-laced murmurings but it was sedative without the strike,   a scorpion goading without its venom-tipped tail.   the implication of danger lacking promise but she keeps that charm about her.   IT IS WHAT DREW YOU IN THE FIRST PLACE,   IS IT NOT.   her finger draws thin lines across the fogged-up surface.   the delicate curve of petals she absently outlines in an illustration that would disappear along with her once she reached her destination.   

        ❛   you're curious,   aren't you?   how this will play out.   that is what i have that they didn't   ━   your full attention.   ❜   this was all by design   (   while you're looking me,   you're not bothering to look over your shoulder   )   the sisters hollow,   he knew nothing of that and if she made herself just the right kind of distraction he never would.   grey was willing to fashion herself into perfect prey to keep her sisters from the hunter's notice.   it helped that she was no lamb and she would stop at nothing.   ❛   really you didn't want to stay on and chat?   tell me some more of your secrets maybe...   ❜   the time for blithe conversation had come and passed but she could evoke some form of nostalgia.   early days before they drew their knives,   for a passing fancy it had been a demented sort of playing house with one another.   

frowning,   eli ever sat in his car,   one hand white-knuckling the steering wheel while the other clutched his phone.   he had found her note that morning…   dialed the scribbled number against his better judgment,   and thrust himself deeper into their little game.   grey hollow was alluring,   sure,   but she was also dangerous,   and he'd be damned if he let her distract him from what needed to be done.   why couldn't she understand that she was already dead?   didn't she want to be saved?   

❝  you know your charms don't work on me.  ❞   eli's voice was arrogant and deceptively calm.   he leaned back into his seat,   free hand resting atop the console.   ❝  i've been doing this for a long time,   grey,   and i've never missed a target.   what makes you think you stand a chance here?   the others had claws,   too.  ❞   threat for threat,   the promise of retaliation looming overhead like a storm cloud.   but eli wasn't alarmed.   on the contrary,   he was thrilled,   his pulse jumping with excitement.   he wondered if grey knew that she was blessing him here,   offering a cure for the boredom that arose when things were too easy.   a grim smile curved his mouth.   ❝  go ahead and toss it.   i'll find you eventually.  ❞