𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐀 𝐏𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐨

𝟐𝟖

𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡

TW-There is mention of Sexual Abuse.

𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍

Darkness never really scared her.

Nor did a little hail and thunderstorms.

She pretends like they are a much part of her cursed being like the Forbidden Forest are.

Her black cloak drenched in the pouring full moon rain of hail still blows with the ragging storm.

Eyes from the dark woods gawks at her, scared more of her than of the lightening that illuminates the midnight sky.

Bats fly out wanting to stay clear of her path as she walks slow and vigilantly.

Her sheilded eyes notices every little movement in the dark listening to the rain and the hushed whisper of the animals.

They know she meant no harm to them, but to her prey only.

But they are too afraid to put that theory to test.

The trees stand tall despite the avalanche of snow trying to make them bow.

For they knew to show respect to her means to stand straight and make sure she gets to her prey without further obstacles.

She takes a turn, the path she knows by heart, the hail never being to able to make her feet stop.

She stands infront of her cave like a lost daughter of the night.

The blizzard makes a howling noise of a wolf matching with the groans of the man, crumpled up shivering and cursing, hands tied back, mouth sealed, legs tied to the tree hanging like the hanged man of the tarot card.

Thick sheets of ice coats his naked body.

It's a miracle he is still alive.

She beckons her head and a flash of black is all one can make out cutting through the falling snow, before the man is dropped on his head on the cold unforgiving ground of the Forbidden.

"What the fuck is going on?!" The man roars in pain and frustration. "Who the fuck are you?!"

His words comes out a mess of teeth chattering as desperately crawls on the cold floor.

"You have sinned." Her voice more darker than the depths of the Forbidden and more colder than the falling snow.

"Yeah?" He challenges. "And who the fucking lunatic....are you to count my sins?!" The man growls clawing on the ground, his whole frame trembling.

A hiss is all is heard and from the darkness of her cloak slides out a python, eyes blood red and it's skin made from boiling tar.

It crawls out from her arms and slithers on the cold ground, whisp of white smoke emanates from its body as it melts ice.

A fire breathing python.

The man stares at the black beauty in awe and fear as it comes to halt right infront of its face assessing the ways to scourge him.

His mouth quivers as the python dances staring down at him satisfied how he is all at it's mercy, before it hisses it's mouth wide showing its razor sharp cannies and spitting out a ball of fire in his face.

The fire that doesn't burn.

But torments just the same.

And the second he inhales the warmth that he welcomes as bliss would soon be the death of him.