[center][color=FFB6C1][b]STYGIAN HABIT[/b][/color]
[i]Speak up.[/i][/center]

Crystalline mistress, spread pristine; torn from gossamer heaven and divided evenly for her conspiracy. Flayed with an eager edge, each line divine epicaricacy. Drawn through borrowed veins, anticipating animation's searing stain and branding pain.

No fuss with a blunderbuss,
just starting conversation spurred by ice and trust;
understanding conditions inflicted on the punished who have the stomach and desire to course with fire.
Inferno kisses gently the aegis, licking wild with desire.
Wisps of divinity escape, fleeing the lying pyre.
Corpse gods await them; ancient veins at the ready, once again.