Eros's vacant murmur, voided, a nugatory of desolate, depraved accedence, dolefully inseminated the drab, characterless land, eternally asphyxiated by anatomy of leather, smothered by myriad towers of stygian despondency. Yet, despite the realm's vain attempt at strangulating the adolescent's lugubrious query, the boy's voice, his eternal melancholy, settled reverently upon Gabriella's ears, obscured by a curtain of ceaseless halcyon. Porcelain flesh remained evermore unchanged, virgin to symptoms of foreboding or wonderment. The girl's eyes, a permanent, petulant, mephitic shade of green, merely refracted a golden luminescence of utmost apathy.
Still, silence did not befall the realm of which it anteriorly reigned sovereign. Under shawl of callous, languid indifference did twin mounds of flesh appear animated, gravid with offspring of disquieting noise. "You don't know?" Gabriella absentmindedly sighed, her every utterance bearing self-imposed consequence of nought but pedestrian concern as though such knowledge was universal, little more than a chore pressed forth from the heterochromatic adolescent.
Breaths shallow, exiguous yet perpetually dispassionate raped the variegated boy's twain orifices, conjoined by partner of stagnant inconspicuous air. 'You don't know?' Gabriella's apathetic chime resonated ceaselessly amidst the melancholic youth's mind, replaying such casual utterance ad infinitum, 'You don't know? You don't know? You don't know? Of course, I don't know. Why would I know! Everything, every word I've read, every scene I've witnessed since attaining the "privilege" of being Fiamma's attendant, it's all new to me, the world I formerly believed was nought but falsehood, and yet, Gabriella assumes it to be common knowledge,' Eros internally droned, his mind momentarily scintillating with a luminescent, lambent light, the phosphorene body of epiphany.
'Oh.' Eros otiosely groaned, twain eyes of contrasting, antithetical shade instantaneously mirroring a void of nugatory nothingness. 'It is common knowledge…just not for me,' The youth continued, Gemini swirls of eternal nihility bedded by Gabriella's phlegmatic repine.
"An apostle is a god's chosen, blessed to carry their strength," Gabriella started, "Or at least that's what I've been told. Apparently, our academy houses a few. Still, I've yet to notice one… spare for him." The girl continued, her tone of entrenched apathy spontaneously contorting to a throe of utmost execration. However, Eros would not immediately prompt her further disdain, for his mind lay distant, embedded amidst a phantasmic cloud of delusion. There were other apostles, the term exalted upon his visage by matchmaker now an antipode of apocryphal manner, entranced and beguiled bearing a body of truth. A god's chosen, such terminology lay reverent amidst virginal bassinet, the pits of Eros's mind continually recounting his unpremeditated encounter with the deity known as Psyche for such cryptic, enigmatic yet voluptuous words appeared transparently breathed.
'A god's chosen. Does that mean they're in a relationship with their god?' The youth inwardly pondered, cretinous and unlettered to the singularity his existence encapsulated. "Him?" Eros despondently scrutinised, his tone of bereft vivacity tainted by toxicant of reverential intrigue. There were other male apostles.
"Hylas" Tumorous, as though spitting virulent, malign spite upon the world, Gabriella uttered such poisonous throe, her twain eyes of rancorous emerald tremulous, shaking with transparent abhorrence. Flesh of porcelain lay tainted, depraved and perverted, twain mounds of pristine pink forced into an unyielding scowl that attempted to sever the extremity between lips and face. Still, Gabriella did not peerlessly bear such martyr plight, for heterochromatic eyes of pink and primaeval brown subconsciously trembled, banal, inconspicuous and unrecognised by their singular owner.
"And it's not like he's trying to hide the fact…Though you've likely never seen him," The anteriorly apathetic girl mumbled, her twain optics forced upon the variegated boy before her, "He wanders our corridors, striding through the campus uncaring of his sex…But that's likely a privilege begot of his status. Espers of every rank cling to him. They crave the certainty his existence exudes." Gabriella continued her every utterance stentorian, ceaselessly reverberating amidst Eros's cretinous mind.
"But I-I…" The girl paused, her untainted virgin skin sanguine with a phosphorene mantling, the retreat of her virulent eyes furrowed, tempestuous with unparalleled, empyrean acrimony. "I Hate him," Gabriella pestiferously breathed, calloused palms illuminating with a twain pestilential light, while seldom drops, deadened and indistinct spasmodically merged with the desert underfoot, despoiling that which was antecedently vestal.
Quiescence, a land of sovereign, matriarchal reticence, broken merely by the heterogenous whimper of diminishing tears, myriad questions adulterated Eros's brain, baneful upon his every thought, yet, the adolescent spoke not, his throat simply lay asphyxiated, coerced into deadness by the beauty before him. 'We should leave,' The youth inwardly appraised, for he had gotten that which he most requisitioned, comprehension, consciousness to his antecedent world of apocryphal, spurious craft. Snow white lay interlaced atop an appendage of porcelain, beckoning the nescient, incognizant girl into animation.
"Let's go," Eros grumbled, his visage secular atop Gabriella's wettened pupils, yet, the boy's irises lay not conjoined with that of the prying beauty, but instead, appeared bedded by the backdrop, for cloaked by bastions of nebulous caliginosity, brewed a beak akin to that of a raven, aged, craft of mortal flesh, 'How much does she know?' Eros fervently questioned, 'Does she think I'm an apostle? Would she even know? I mean, my appearance has entirely changed, and the first thing I did was go to the library…No, it doesn't matter. Even if she saw anything, it would only look like I'd studied that particular book. Gabriella told me the rest,' The youth impassionately murmured, his mind addled by notions of repressed paranoia.
Sloven steps, ignorant to notions of impetuous precipitant, lethargically billowed amidst the claustrophobic, oppressive maze, dishevelled, carrion, frangible carpet massacred amidst the Gemini youths' wake, their path of slaughter echoed by a dissonant crunch, that was until, a neoteric stimulus joined the chorus, the shrill, glossy cry of the blackened door, orchestrated by the youth's perpetually pushing hand.