[@Zyx]
[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/WHpjdxO.png[/img][/center]
[center][h2][i][color=fdc68a]Speak of the Devil - III[/color][/i][/h2][/center]
[hr]
		[b][i]"I came here to play."[/i][/b] She answered softly - somber - reminiscing - then she shook her head. Forlorn features stayed, hiding the shifting of subtle emotions, yet she embodied the essence of sacred stillness within a savage storm. She was a like a living doll, exquisite and eternal, animated without the need to breath or budge at all. Yet always on the verge of being broken by virtue of being beautiful. The precipice of a paradox.

	Her gaze wandered towards the child that had approached other various denizens of the tavern, cheerful, despite the danger. Perhaps she was safe, as Anath Homura realized that there was a wonderful power in innocence, and she sensed the strong urge within herself to protect such. The child's comments regarding dance caused Anath Homura to recall her daughters again, and absently she had begun to watch as a few of her simulacrums danced all across the tavern and alongside the little girl. Whether they would be seen was a mystery, and she did not know if she had chosen to do this, or if her other selves had decided to dance without seeking her consent, like whenever your foot begins nervously tapping the floor, fidgeting...

	They danced: so many twirls through the air, and much leaping, like sacred stardust swirling across the infinite cosmos. The summoners of death, sweet and sinful, delicate and divine - all of them fell and alighted upon the floor with faith in the foundation, then ascended again and flew freely. A repeat of their descent, and then they would arise again. Destruction and rebirth. Rising rhythm, dancing, dancing, dancing, and radiant revelry as they all shone. The dance of dreams before the dawn arrives.

	Anath Homura hummed to herself, as the contradictory torture of joy and pain pressed deeper into her mind, like a plunging knife, and the agony of her hand having the desire to reach upwards to grasp the hilt. She turned her attention to Samael, seeking something so trivial, yet suddenly significant to her, and a faint blush appeared upon her face as she realized a face about herself with wonder about what it meant.

	[i][b]"Please tell me; what is your favorite color for a flower?"[/b][/i] She asked, and awaited an answer once again.