Like a feral shadow , crawling in the gap between silence and whispers; he stood , waiting for something unexpected , without knowing his true place , keeping his blade asleep , using his words to amuse a kind heart , bound to betrayal and tears....a plague.

Like an obsidian statue , standing in a storm of madness and obsession ; she stood , waiting nothing , her eyes tired , drifting like a leaf in a hurricane ; her words silent , her eyes defiant ; sleeping in a dream of shakles and restrain....a curse.

Plague and Curse converge without truly seeking each other ; his blade crimson in blood , her eyes red in ablaze .
his words in her silence , her velvet skin on his scars.

so unexpected as obvious , so painful as pleasant.

anguish flying on rotten wings . it has just started.

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