[Life grows under her as she moves and he hates it.
This absurd palace - a diary, a soul, a memory. He doesn't give a shit what it is. He knows how to deal with it, and while she may have tried to kill him-
She failed.
He won't. Never does.
Never will.
Another mistake made as she stands before him with all the petulance she exudes in reality.
She made a mistake bringing him here and he'll make sure she regrets it.
There's one way to kill a soul, destroy a palace, wreck a life-
He's done it over and over and over
And over and over
And will do it over and over until his real target in a true reality has a mouth full of bubbling, foaming red.
She moves closer.
Good.
She opens her mouth.
Good.
He'll enjoy this.]
If you insist.
[One more corpse added to a pile of faceless nobodies. It's ironic her distortion involves being a giver of life in a desolate, dead world. Funnier still that she's about to nourish that non-existent soil with her own body. She's distorted if any part of her believes she can create something beautiful from nothing.
He hates her.
So he pulls out a gun, hidden at his hip-
Aligns the barrel to her visor, a reflection of her irritated face engulfing his vision-
And pulls the trigger without hesitation, intent on shooting until she turns into wisps of smoke or a bloody, pathetic mess.]
cw: attempted murder!
This absurd palace - a diary, a soul, a memory. He doesn't give a shit what it is. He knows how to deal with it, and while she may have tried to kill him-
She failed.
He won't. Never does.Never will.
Another mistake made as she stands before him with all the petulance she exudes in reality.She made a mistake bringing him here and he'll make sure she regrets it.
There's one way to kill a soul, destroy a palace, wreck a life-
He's done it over and over and over
And will do it over and over until his real target in a true reality has a mouth full of bubbling, foaming red.
She moves closer.
Good.
She opens her mouth.Good.
He'll enjoy this.]If you insist.
[One more corpse added to a pile of faceless nobodies. It's ironic her distortion involves being a giver of life in a desolate, dead world. Funnier still that she's about to nourish that non-existent soil with her own body. She's distorted if any part of her believes she can create something beautiful from nothing.
He hates her.
So he pulls out a gun, hidden at his hip-
Aligns the barrel to her visor, a reflection of her irritated face engulfing his vision-