Chains of silver glisten on the floor like tears... Light slides down like white gold, and waterfalls of the moon shine on curtains.

In a pool of darkness are two green eyes.
She should have had black hair, she knows. But she doesn’t.
They should have been long, flowing locks. But they aren’t.

The bones of the castle are white marble. in them run black veins, like the congealed blood of her dying heart. Spreading through the halls like a secret disease. Veins...

In the velvet folds of her flaring dress are hidden, beating secrets. They lurk in the darkness, close to the floor. She is a black star in the night, an intercelestial hole in the heart of reality. A crouching panther, a draped lady. the black cloth spreads across the floor like the dark thoughts of an aging ocean. Too deep. too dark.

There is music she must not hear. she must not dare touch.
Some things are not allowed when Beauty has been desecrated.

An ancient silver watch ticks in her limp hands. tick tick tick tick
Time...
...since footsteps resounded, since heartbeats concurred, since words had been spoken...
tick tick tick tick

Some things are not allowed when you are chasing shadows to lure the truth from their absent minds. Sparkling, glimmering minds... like dusty stars... far, far away...

Decadence creeps up the walls, softens time, warps reality and rots her soul. She is festering in the dark... The panther, trapped in a word.