Still grasping for air, Epiko had finally decided to dedicate a span of his time in resting. He was in the Vagabond Desert, a scorching wilderness that belonged to the she-devil. The she-devil, rumoured spouse of Padriad, wore black ragged clothing, escorted with three slim crimson stripes that ran along the she-devil’s chest and hip curves. Her jagged wardrobe was complemented with a pair of black pumps, heels inching up to a quarter of a foot. Her hands were wrapped in gloves coated in roaring silver, which perfectly matched her scarlet lips. Her face was geared with a mask, decorated strictly to comply with the uniform rules of crimson, grey and black. Her hair was silk-black, which flourished along with the wind as she journeyed across the Sahara. Her limbs were long and slick, which flashed the radiance from the sun to whoever saw her. And lastly, her hand was equipped a lasso of thorns, unimaginably fearful as it was blood-stained and it looked bloodthirsty. It is her, the she-devil, branded spouse of Padriad, and the Fallen Angel of the Lustful. Her name was Lady Morgana.

The Vagabond was commonly nicknamed after the saharic Vagabond Desert, which circled the vast city of Greater Vile. South of it were the Tropics, and north was the Seventh Heaven of Rapture, frequently identified as Paraiso. Epiko was in the northern subordinate of the barren region, mid-way Paraiso and Greater Vile. It was amidst the boiling temperature of the vast land when he rested upon a rock. As he was about to fall subliminal, his eyes nearing shut, he heard whispers that locked his ears. Nex est vestri tantum diligo. His ears were determined to locate the source of the daunting murmurs. Nex est vestri tantum diligo. Hush, hush, hush. The words unhurriedly pierced his ears. Nex est vestri tantum diligo. His eyes were forced open. Nex est vestri tantum diligo. He opened them and in front him were twosome bloodshot eyes. The sight of Morgana’s round ruby irises startled Epiko. Stunned in fright, Epiko froze like a statue waiting for demolition. Morgana inch by inch paced nearer Epiko; their lips almost touching. Just as when time and chance allowed, the fallen angel hurriedly wounded Epiko’s lips with her razor blade teeth. Alas, Epiko felt blood flowing from his mouth; it was the she-devil’s dreaded kiss. Just as he was about to fall unconscious, a humongous silhouette of angelic wings soared above him and Morgana. But he did not have a chance to catch a glimpse of this victorious creature. He had already fallen comatose.

1 Comment:

  1. Anonymous said...
    This is so great! Staying up really late was worth it wasn't it? Wahahahahahah, I told ya I was of good help, fwee.

    "Death is your only lover..."

    I love me! Ahahahah, let's do this agian~~~ :3

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