Silver silence cascades through winter trees of elm and birch. Naked fingered branches stretch and yawn while standing erect in military grace. Softly, elegantly, she glides through the night. Dead, undead she remembers the love and pain captured in the human heart. The desire, the fire, the soft caress of a velvet touch. Centuries, memories walking underneath the silver moon. To live for lust to give into hedonistic desire, ecstacy revelry to want human flesh for more than sustanace. An ancient heart beat echoes alone her beauty never fades.
The House of Raven 🐦⬛ 