#breakalxg

[daemass]

@breakalxg​​ !

somber mornings were often spent by her lonesome, drawn to the window prior between corridor’s end  &&.  kitchenette where parish’s perishables stored feasts delight. a mug, brewed fresh from grounds long since met their fate, steams with the foreign scent of bittersweet hazelnut. caffeinated  &&.  a sugar addict, sarvente found fondness in the form of brown bonds between earth soil  &&.  what mortality deemed ‘coffee’. hm! heavenly, the biting divinity that roused attention drew from “dirty bean juice”, as she put it bluntly.

sarvente found her distant gaze pondering the sky’s palette, of smearing pinks  &&.  oranges coming to rise up the golden amber-glow of morning sonnet’s sun. the rise  &&.  fall of crested songbird’s gilded cage, of steady breaths fluttering free from glinting ribcage long since trapped her heaven-bound soul, fallen so far from its deigns, coiled to the brimstone of the planet’s crust. all she had even gleaned to earn was a chance for humanity to rightfully deem their place up above, where she  &&.  many others sought to judge them appropriately.

ah, those were the days. long before beastly sin  -  of greed for mankind became too heavy a burden to bear  -  before wings had been viscerally removed  &&.  cleaved from her shoulders. a shudder ripples down in vain memory, of agonizing blemishes spewing frothing boils like festering infections, oozing cadences of rot  &&.  garnishing immortality forever tainted by the planet’s inner depths. ah, hell. her new homestead, of iron-caste  &&.  deplorables, those long since devastated  &&.  worn thin by the wayward scorn of god. a lone sip of her morning beverage deters her mental vagabond, strays sarvente back to the path of holiness.

bitterness for the righteous aside, the nun feels her body pulse once over at the faintest hint struck in the air ;   like a chord, a harmonious linger of aptitude, of a soldier long since war waged  &&.  won. of ex-convict, her beloved thorn. gaze darts exceedingly overwhelmed, head jut from windowsill to peer out down the hall.                   there he is!                                       swaying with the weight of a body having just torn from slumber, staggering on half-dead to society  &&.  fully deceased in the presence of consciousness. he’s barely above the falter of sleep, of groggy treading clearly jaded for finding solace in the morning’s aphrodisiacs. food. he must smell the confections she had mustered for a suitable sit-down breakfast arrangement!

sarvente parts from her sunrise lighting, sweeps herself out in front of the lumbering giant, her breath stained with nutty aftertaste  &&.  the vacant wisps of chocolate creamer.   “ good morning, ruv! slept well, i hope? i made pancakes  &&.  strawberries if you’re feeling sweet this morning! ”   of course he wasn’t a HUGE fan of sugary substances, but he could manage for once. right?