Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
HER MOTHER ALWAYS TOLD HER TO BEWARE OF THE WOLVES WHO MASQUERADE AS MEN. THEY WERE DETRIMENTAL BEASTS with pockets full of SECRETS, their hands over your mouth, OVER YOUR EYES, as they inflicted their hush money. SILVER TONGUED and CRIMSON HANDED, they were always CLOSEST to you. she said they were a special class of being, BRED and REARED by their own creed, forever feeding on your ANIMA. to the young child it all seemed like a preplanned script, an allegory her mother would tell her every night to entertain her before her senseless slumber. her words never seemed REAL, but something out of a STORY, fated and climaxing. yet oriana's features always spoke something different, looks of fear and apprehension, of something unreachable under the surface. but aisa would soon come to realize nothing was never TRULY real.
A COMPASSIONATE SOUL, ORIANA LOVED AND PROTECTED HER DAUGHTER FROM SUCH MONSTERS no matter the cost. she reminded her that though at times it may seem otherwise, that she may never forget that their eyes follow her every move. nothing ever went UNSEEN. it was a frightening concept to hear as a child, and aisa often wondered what her mother meant by those words. but oriana always consoled her spirit. they may observe from the outside, from their shallow view, but they could not observe your mind, your unique perception. it is an intricate labrinth they could never successfully attempt to enter, as you forever hold the key in your hands. there was always beauty admist depravity, a reminder of true nature, though you must not stray your eyes from any villainy.
ORIANA WARNED AISA OF THE VOICES OFTEN, AND TO NEVER LISTEN TO THEM NO MATTER HOW THEY coiled and writhed around her precious mind. her daughter's nature was such like hers, spirited and curious, dangerous if she ventured too far. and yet the choir continued to hum until grown to a meandering CHANT, a discordant mass of song, all equally commanding her to step into that abysmal doorway, to feel the weight lifted from her as the platform descended into full obscurity. aisa was at war with her own DUALITY. truly, it was her FATE, and the voices would forever TORMENT her, oriana knew this. her daughter was introduced to the unspeakable horrors below the underground, familiar even, but not completely INSTILLED. oriana would not allow her husband to force a child, their child, to become another TEST SUBJECT.
HER FATHER WAS A MAN OF A PARTICULAR SORT, A STOIC WITH A GENERATIONAL DISDAIN TOWARDS THE MODERN WORLD. THE ISSUE WAS NOT OF HOW CONTEMPORARY THE WORLD HAD BECOME, BUT THAT IT WAS SIMPLY NOT CONTEMPORARY ENOUGH. ROKU ASAKURA was not a man of DREAMS or imagination, but a legacy of capital. he believed every man, woman, and child was given a POSITION they must serve for the rest of the amiable lives, to serve as they are DESTINED to. this ideology carried over into his life work, an intricate display of the given SENTIENCE of the primordial and therefore modern man.
ASAKURA KNEW NEARLY EVERY ACOLYTE WHO WALKED THROUGH HIS DOORS, KNEW OF THEIR WANTS or lack thereof, knew that whenever their eyes darted to the upper right or blinked a second too fast, they were lying through their teeth. he knew his family's fears and doubts, caused his wife strenuous heartbreak, influenced his son's beliefs, pursued to destroy his daughter's spirit. all in the pursuit of discovering a new radical way of being, which he cleverly concealed from the other societies. a forced perspective, a misguided perception. LET THEM GAPE AT ONE THING SO THEY MAY NOT SUSPECT ANOTHER.
