07-22-2009, 11:34 AM
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The two sat in blissful silence for some time. Although heavy raindrops had morphed into a light drizzle, leaden skies indicated that the storm was far from over. Thunder rumbled menacingly in the distance, proclaiming the arrival of its accomplice. Lightning would soon strike the earth. And it did, right when an answer reached the madwoman’s receivers. She did not reply right away. Aquamarine orbs merely sought the coy femme’s saffron-colored eye, locking gazes with her king’s former lover. It was the second part of her response that intrigued Lillith most; where it was revealed that she had not earned salvation.
Pressing her lips together into a severe line, the ashen femme carefully assimilated the information given to her. “You’re wrong,” she asserted, as a general reply to older woman's assumption. Her voice was neither angry nor condescending. Au contraire, it was soft, delicate. “There is something after death,” she continued, allowing a bemused smirk to cross her face. Her thoughts revolved around him and his nocturnal visitations. There was definitely something after death, or else communicating with him would be impossible. He was everywhere, just not in the flesh. She never feared ridicule; her convictions and beliefs were stronger and far too important.
Fervent devotion burned within her soul; devotion to Azathoth, to Ahren and his mother, oh holy visionary. “Fire consumed his body,” she offered, although the coy femme hadn’t asked for an explanation. She did so out of her own accord, and not because she felt obliged to do so. Lillith wanted her interlocutor to understand, to believe. “But his soul remains.” Ebony fingers fiddled absentmindedly with the necklace around her neck; a silver-cross, homage to the clan. “Have you sinned?” she finally asked, her eyes turning cold with austerity.
Pressing her lips together into a severe line, the ashen femme carefully assimilated the information given to her. “You’re wrong,” she asserted, as a general reply to older woman's assumption. Her voice was neither angry nor condescending. Au contraire, it was soft, delicate. “There is something after death,” she continued, allowing a bemused smirk to cross her face. Her thoughts revolved around him and his nocturnal visitations. There was definitely something after death, or else communicating with him would be impossible. He was everywhere, just not in the flesh. She never feared ridicule; her convictions and beliefs were stronger and far too important.
Fervent devotion burned within her soul; devotion to Azathoth, to Ahren and his mother, oh holy visionary. “Fire consumed his body,” she offered, although the coy femme hadn’t asked for an explanation. She did so out of her own accord, and not because she felt obliged to do so. Lillith wanted her interlocutor to understand, to believe. “But his soul remains.” Ebony fingers fiddled absentmindedly with the necklace around her neck; a silver-cross, homage to the clan. “Have you sinned?” she finally asked, her eyes turning cold with austerity.