darkness coalesces with light ----- as it was meant to , for it is no black and white divide that separates matter nor its atmosphere , as it is not one that separates the living from the dead. lines blur , contorting into shapes that glisten ; an apparition as comely as it is perilous , though it fools the eyes of complacent mortals , like a dove of gentle nature , the masquerade of a stone eyed raven : they are not alike , they two. an emergence unhindered by the laws of nature , operating outside its earthly factotum that declare such phenomena impossible. perhaps it is one unwanted , but minerva has long dismissed the hope that his eyes would shine with any pleasure , earthly or no , when she makes her appearance , the dead air closing with impending proximity as her skirts graze pale ankles like sepulchral tulle.
‘ nathaniel. ’ a trill , sharp like a bell though it is not a clanging , clunky thing but an elegant sound that would raise hair on flesh with its crystalline clarity. a harsh admonishment seeping in to an otherwise patient directive. how he sits , his back to her at his bloody instrument , paying the least concern for things as he has opted , though this slothful habit was no furtive advancement of character but rather something he shifted into like a secondary skin from the moment her soul departed the lively plane.
open - ended arms that mold into transparency cross about an unheaving bosom. ‘ there are guests. i shall not be explaining , to the nine - hundred - and - ninetieth soul , why i am garbed in wedding attire while i play host alone. as head of this household you are bound to make yourself present , to endeavor at least a semblance of courtesy to those under this roof. ’ says she , the voice gathering stagnant oxygen in its dismal echo , not quite the dirge that his hands compel from resonant keys that manipulate sound , possibly as a substitute for the phantasms that lurk in darker corners of the mansion which he cannot hope to grasp in hands that seek violence or revenge. her tone a solemn hymn , ‘ it is no fate worse than death to once and awhile deign to be hospitable. ’
... @heravenis
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