She wasn’t one to bend to rules and expectations. She had been tied down for long enough.
She wasn’t one to stay quiet or lay low. She had been a puppet for too long.
But everything had changed. She had realized her power.
She knew what to say, she knew what to do. She was an unlikely warrior.
She had a devilish charm but a beautiful soul. She was a living contradiction and she didn’t wish to change.
Those around her, those who met her, couldn’t help but feel an inexplicable attraction toward her.
And she finally realized it.
She waltzed around town in a black corset dress and around her neck, a bloodstone embellished choker, controlled her breath.
She had fire under her skin, thunder on her brain. But her soul was flowing water.
She could melt hearts and steal thoughts. She was special even though she couldn’t see it for long.
But she was still changing. And accepting her strength.
She was ready to take on the world and its possibilities.
She wasn’t going to give in to the little voices in her head. She wasn’t going to leave any outside forces push her into oblivion.
She would die, eventually. Of unbearable passion and unsatisfactory curiosity. But she would be buried in a glass coffin filled with alcohol. Preserving her beyond the natural ways.
And her mind… Would live through tiny papers filled with assembled words. A darkness not easily translated through other known forms.
A lady never truly dies, as she believed so. And neither would her calculated madness.