Her body breaks. But in the end it mends itself, and she no longer exists. She is reborn anew. 〔 🌹; artwork by: artstation.com/artwork/B5nkl 〕

"It's not you… it's me."

Time's harsh touch owns me, whipping at my legs. The secret steps ahead guilt to me like time pegs, to abate my own fast descent. But day has its shadows, nooks under rocks. Time has its watchmaker, can stop all clocks.

In darkness looms the spider. . . ( art by🥀: artstation.com/artwork/VdaOb4 )

Trembling, fear evoked. The pain, oh how it hurts. The cables enveloped her soul, attached like leeches onto skin - draining her essence, her life, encasing her to remain enfeebled. It hurts. How cruel fate has been to her. Her beloved murdered, and by who? By her. ━

Another year, another sombre joyeux noël at Châteu Guillard. Lonesome and empty. This time of year a numbing reminder of a life she once had - a past full of love, hope and a future - with Gerard. For too long has the spider's web been left untouched and abandoned. Forgotten.

Step into my parlour, ...said the spider to the fly.

"Aah, do my eyes deceive me...?"

Swan Lake — Skin: Odette Read: tl.gd/n_1spo0cv

Swan Lake — Skin: Odile Read: tl.gd/n_1spo0d5