Re: Promenade; Elevator [Adult]
The bride was near tears, they frosted lashes as cream on cake, icicles on the arm of a winter tree. Sparkling, they sprang to bright eyes and shone in dull light. There was no way of knowing if they were genuine or only those of a girl who knew what they meant. Her little face was pale, a full moon beneath a messy fringe, and it was as empty of emotion as any celestial body, as empty as the dark woman’s, as soon as the snakes receded from her body.
She breathed slowly, a struggle of lungs in the heat of the elevator.
The dirt was baptised, cleansed from rosy cheeks with the crystal roll of tears. The bride shook her head and forced her way through the doors. Her match remained bloody and useless on the floor behind her, but she did not need it. She had more. They lined her.
Blasphemy curdled on her tongue, ugly and chemical, but she said nothing, forcing it behind teeth. The bride could see now. The woman, with her black gaze and her willingness, was nothing. Words were wasted on such.
She did not even deserve a look back. The bride flattened the front of her modest dress, she arranged herself and her tears, and she left.