[@Zyx]
[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/WHpjdxO.png[/img][/center]
[center][h2][i][color=fdc68a]Speak of the Devil - VI[/color][/i][/h2][/center]
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		Hot and cold - her hand was another contradiction. A myriad of contradictions, as the skin that his hand consorted with was soft and firm simultaneously, surrounding an iota of its shape, its gracious currently-curving contour, showing that she didn't desire his animosity, and yet she also remained rigid in defiance of him. She sustained her dignified demeanor and stoic surface, concealing the conflicting sentiments and contradictions within her.

	[b][i]"Would you prefer meager chatter? Perhaps we could complain about mundane matters, or muse upon the changing weather."[/i][/b] She replied, feigning a brazen look, but her hand spoke the truth, and said adamantly that she was afraid. The stigma - the savory sign of soul sickness - stirred frantically along the length of her arm, scorching smooth skin as it slithered away to the shoulder.

	She still hid her pain, presenting a playful and proud exterior, but both of them - Samael and she - surely sensed how her hand shared her secrets with him, body briefly shaking, a tremble barely felt in the tapestry of time. She stared at him, her single ruby-eye akin to a bottomless sea of shame-sin-blood, a surging song and artfully sanguine as it approached. Deeper and deeper - the red rivers came closer, reaching towards reality; a mortal man would drown within this devouring sight.

	A fathomless fire that stole the light, seven serpents singing as well. Surrounding all - a sea of shadows that will submerge even the loving and luminous stars. She showed him the black mirror, the matrix, and a name written upon this unseen world. Madness. The mother of Madness seemed elated, wondering whether he would behold her for eternity or forsake her immediately, perhaps even something in between?

	Her glittering gaze wandered to their hands, and she murmured aloud with words so swift and quiet that they have only been heard by observing how her lips had parted. She had been smiling prior. [b][i]"I held Honor before I was born again as Anath Homura."[/i][/b]

	She wouldn't speak further... wouldn't dare to say aloud that which was sought, denying them relief. Catharsis ceased, choking upon regret and ancient agony.