Rogue

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Crimson Blossom was the club’s name. Littered on velvet cushions were deluded creatures draped in black lacings, fictitiously feasting upon “prey”.

A girl titters, sunken eyes—makeup trick—devouring her female companion.

Twin sleek fangs penetrate her skin like hot, swiftly hammered nails. Black lipstick smudged by an icy hand, she is depleted of lavished blood that is quite real.   

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