Didn't Lukas know the first dark prudence of the Land of The Dead? You don't go drinking from the hearth of the yama or else you can never leave Hell, you lose your soul to yomi...
Especially on grinning to a sheet of snow that no one dreams of longing to wrap in, tracing its troubled wintry reliquary of past tear-drown dead stitches -- smile? -- her lips were calm with a response that listened, she'd let him make her smile. And her eyes made sooooo very slender to watch the shadow passing of his signs and signals, symptoms, because inquiring darkness wanted to see, hungrily, what prosperity was going to do; what it was at. Red lipstick curse in tact, it slayed the carnelian dragons of her burned-out eyes. The quiet melancholy king was monitored by the curious-kitty grave digger very distantly, to keep herself from wincing, pulling, or otherwise showcasing the 'weakness' the entity inside of her warned not to.
Besides, no one was here to create an excuse good enough to throw dirt on the coffin, so while yes, there was apprehension and a visible stiffening of every sinew until she could feel hellfire surging in her marrow, coiling, emerging, unfortunately sin eventually yielded to glory's kiss, jigsaw piece of broken fitting perfectly against the lonely missing one for the puzzle. Give me my sin again.