there's a blissful darkness behind the drops of blood
Such a naive soul to let yourself bled in surrounding of sharks
I can feel those demons alluring me in, and I am not afraid that they'll devour me, but that I'll get addicted to it.
I exposed my jugular to you despite seeing the knife in your hand
The fact that not having people around you is better than having people around you who are not present.
Story of a broken Vase
maybe I am too blinded by my own darkness to see others desire for light
"I'll break every single finger of the hand that touches you, Then, I will slit their throat just on the surface, letting them bleed and howl like I skinned them alive.And then I will set them on fire."
She felt owned. "And what if I want them to touch me?"
His lips twitched, "you won't."
"How do you know?"
"Because, you come alive only for me."
~Tristan Caine
"or maybe - I'll destroy him for anyone else."
"His demons dance with mine."
~Morana
Tears streaked down her face, mingling with her laughter as Morana realized she was losing it.
She was truly losing it.
She was breaking down.
And it felt fucking glorious.
For a moment completely suspended in time, she floated, somewhere between agony and joy, somewhere between sensation and numbness, somewhere between caring too much and not giving a fuck, and it was utter beautiful perfection.
For that moment.
She felt free, not weighed down by demons, by responsibilities, by histories,
"You ever put a leash on me, I'll fucking strangle you with it."
Just a reminder that "I do not forgive you" in response of "I am sorry" is NORMAL.
You being sorry does NOT make it mandatory for the other person to must forgive you.
No, she hadn't lost her fire. It just lay dormant inside her most days, And what she couldn't figure out was why him. Why not Jackson, or any of her father's men, or even Dante for that matter? Why this man with the voice of sin and the body of a sinner? He called her fire forth like a mage and she did not understand it.
~Morana Vitalio
Don't you know not to run away from predators, sweetheart? We like the hunt.
I had almost forgot how much it mattered to share your misery with at least one soul before taking your last breath. That person will die also. But that moment will stay. Time will not forget your whispers, your cries. Pieces of your pain will be preserved in the mystery that is time, untill it ends.
"There was another reason why I followed you tonight."
The air stuck in her throat and her chest tightened, her heart pattering "What?"
There was silence for a few seconds, before the words came on, the dead tone in them, the rigid hatred in them turning her stomach.
"No one else gets to kill you, Ms. Vitalio," he spoke quietly "The last face you see before you die will be mine. When it comes to death, you're mine."
Morana grit her teeth as her mind, unwittingle drified to Tristan Caine Again.
She'd pushed the entire episode from two nights ago out of her mind. Vowing not to think about it ever again. Because the mess who'd been standing in her room with his blood on her hand, the confused mass of limbs who hadn't dared breathe because everything had been so baffling that wasn't her.
Morana Vitalio did not behave like a pathetic little girl being thrown a bone.
Morana Vitalio did not show vulnerabilities to anyone but herself.
Morana Vitalio did not expose the jugular to a man who went straight for it.
🖤
"One day, I'm going to carve your heart out and keep it as a souvenir. I promise."
He chuckled.
"You assume I have a heart, wildcat."
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