Stirring, dreaming, unable to sleep, no not dreaming, for nightmares do creep. This creatures misfortune haunts her deep sleep, unable to keep at bay those memories she does keep. Her figure would lay, a sheet of sweat covered it. Her eyes soon open, void of it's soul, shining in the light moonlit.
The fae would lay there, her eyes turned to an open window, which let the moon shine in. The silver light showered her figure, both eyes left blank yet bright. A hand would slowly raise to her right eye and trace the scar that nearly left her blind. She had sight in both eyes, but barely in her right. What she saw through that eye were shadows, as if she could see more one's soul than the person themselves. Her lips would move in a dead whisper, soon growing into an entrancing tune. She had very few traits from her devil's side. She held the features of a fae, save for the sharpened canines, and the voice that called men to their deaths with deadly promises of love and passion that too late proved to be of sin and death.
Her lips would cease their hypnotic tune as they would curl into a smile that any would've held a chill for. She would slowly move to sit up, her body arched, the moon fortunate to see the bare skin of the fae without the threat of death, moonlight barely brushing over the sunkissed, sand colored flesh.
No, none had ever lived past a night with her. Not one living soul had she left, after a night of passion, whispered sweet nothings, and empty promises. A silver tear rolled down her tanned flushed cheek. There had been one that had made it past a night, oh yes a lover of sorts. They'd known beforehand it would not last, they'd known one day it had to end. Poor souls, poor her, poor him. She'd fallen so hard, what a weak heart she had. Had she left any man to live, she may have fallen for every single soul. She loved so easily, and this creature had stolen her heart. He held it tightly in his clawed fists. The daemon, straight from hell, not a force to be reckoned with. She couldn't bear the pain that love brought to her, and she was the only one he'd allowed close enough to touch him. He wasn't even the most beautiful creature, but to her he was a breathtaking sight, his very sight brought chills in her.
"My sin..." she whispered to herself. Sin. Oh and how wonderful he was, holding her in a hand that could so easily tear her very soul.
She would raise a knee to her chest, folding an arm over it, resting her chin on it. Green hues, one lighter than the other, looking up at the moon. Those lips so deadly pale would move slowly. Lips that called for a kiss. Hair that called for your hands to run through the locks. A body that dared you to touch, but eyes that looked through your soul. The doft the voice that left no man...or woman with any sense to make of the dangers that awaited in the poor half breeds love. And her song reached no ears, only the moon could love her from a distance.
The fae would lay there, her eyes turned to an open window, which let the moon shine in. The silver light showered her figure, both eyes left blank yet bright. A hand would slowly raise to her right eye and trace the scar that nearly left her blind. She had sight in both eyes, but barely in her right. What she saw through that eye were shadows, as if she could see more one's soul than the person themselves. Her lips would move in a dead whisper, soon growing into an entrancing tune. She had very few traits from her devil's side. She held the features of a fae, save for the sharpened canines, and the voice that called men to their deaths with deadly promises of love and passion that too late proved to be of sin and death.
Her lips would cease their hypnotic tune as they would curl into a smile that any would've held a chill for. She would slowly move to sit up, her body arched, the moon fortunate to see the bare skin of the fae without the threat of death, moonlight barely brushing over the sunkissed, sand colored flesh.
No, none had ever lived past a night with her. Not one living soul had she left, after a night of passion, whispered sweet nothings, and empty promises. A silver tear rolled down her tanned flushed cheek. There had been one that had made it past a night, oh yes a lover of sorts. They'd known beforehand it would not last, they'd known one day it had to end. Poor souls, poor her, poor him. She'd fallen so hard, what a weak heart she had. Had she left any man to live, she may have fallen for every single soul. She loved so easily, and this creature had stolen her heart. He held it tightly in his clawed fists. The daemon, straight from hell, not a force to be reckoned with. She couldn't bear the pain that love brought to her, and she was the only one he'd allowed close enough to touch him. He wasn't even the most beautiful creature, but to her he was a breathtaking sight, his very sight brought chills in her.
"My sin..." she whispered to herself. Sin. Oh and how wonderful he was, holding her in a hand that could so easily tear her very soul.
She would raise a knee to her chest, folding an arm over it, resting her chin on it. Green hues, one lighter than the other, looking up at the moon. Those lips so deadly pale would move slowly. Lips that called for a kiss. Hair that called for your hands to run through the locks. A body that dared you to touch, but eyes that looked through your soul. The doft the voice that left no man...or woman with any sense to make of the dangers that awaited in the poor half breeds love. And her song reached no ears, only the moon could love her from a distance.
