Eyes of variegated hue, the left an ascendent pink, the right a primaeval brown irresolutely stirred, impregnated by myriad maculate luminescence, progeny to a kainos dawn. Skin of snow lay reddened, bred by perverted saliva, residue to an antecedent apocryphal reality. Drunkenly did Eros wake, bereft of silken shawl, exposed to the intermittent light of innumerable fulgurating flames. "Fiamma?" The dazed adolescent preeminently moaned, his posterior preternaturally hyperborean in comparison to the rest of his body, as though deprived of an additional incandescence.
"Fiamma?" Eros vociferated such query once more, his gaze hazy, marred by crepuscular of infinite nebulous shades, yet, to the boy's cry, responded nought but stagnant, phantasmic speechlessness. 'Did she return last night…of course she did. The flames are lit, and to my knowledge, she's the only one capable of such a feat,' The boy rhetorically requited, his dishevelled hair of brown, tainted pink upon the precipice launching into a tempestuous vortex of jarring animation, for lucid eyes fell upon sheets bedraggled, corrugated in a manner unachievable by the seventeen-year-old boy.
A depressed portrait ingrained upon the plane, voluptuous buxom and bosomy, the silhouette of a sequestered girl. A tainted basin, neoterically painted by substance uncelebrated, pooled benevolently amidst the figures precipice, sodden to the touch. 'She's gone,' Eros hollowly murmured, his eyes antecedently glittering with the innumerable decayed light of dawn appearing monochrome, dispossessed of a rapturous dream. '...Again,' The boy continued, melancholic, dispiriting thoughts permeating ceaselessly amid his discontent, dreary mind.
'Ah~ what am I meant to do?' Eros languidly droned, 'Fiamma's my master, my guide. She's the only reason I'm able to leave this room and attend her classes. Without her, what could I do, will the academy care, or have they already acknowledged my status,' The adolescent belligerent in his every notion continuously groaned, his mind depressed by ideas of eternal solidarity, incarcerated amidst the ostentatious plane upon which he resided. And it was with such bloodcurdling cognition that an image of virulent green possessed the youth's bedraggled mind, twain gems of emerald, malignant, poisoned, shaded by a curtain of irreproachable errorless halcyon.
'I need to fight Gabriella. I need to make her fall,' Eros ardently groaned, raised palms of pristine recherché snow incomprehensibly flickering with a lambent orange light. Steps supple, callous, apathetic to prophesy of grandeur noiselessly lorded the Virgilian realm, progeniture to the variegated youth's strident departure, the bastion of burnished bronze embossed upon a plane of arciform masoned stone lay chasmic, expunged from its callous haunt, unable to fight, it merely cried, unfettering innumerable hours of content hedonism.
The flooring of baroque, florid wood lay bred with a seed of foetid contamination, paradoxical child to an image of unknown tinctured seraphic religiosity, yet, the reverent youth paid such demoniac malfeasance no heed, for his eyes fervently fell upon the virulent toxicant figure who loomed apathetically before him.
Gabriella, her twain eyes of monotonous emerald eternally affixed upon the boy's leviathan russet aperture, as if in wait, as though expecting. Flesh of porcelain, akin to that of a doll, lay perverted, vitiated an unknowing, inattentive cardinal vermillion, foetid did it appear, infectious upon the domain of which it occupied, permeating ceaselessly with every intermittent leer laboriously forced upon Eros's entrancing visage.
"Good morning," Eros blitheringly grinned, lips of consummate defectless pink forced into a content smile, the hyperborean antagonist of their antecedent posture. Frantic did Gabriella's twain gems of emerald appear, spasmodically seeking, studious of the youth's circumstance, for deprived did he appear of his anterior guide.
"Where's Fiamma?" Gabriella apathetically queried, her cheeks phosphorene glow augmenting into pronounced carrion.
"She's gone ahead," Eros effortlessly lied, fluent in the art of facile deception, for he knew not where his sole praetor presided, the singular beauty who granted him life. 'If I'm stopped by the teacher, I'll just give up,' The boy inwardly mourned, 'I can always challenge Gabriella at another time,'.
"Hmm…ok," The girl impassively replied, cretinous to the myriad, macabre palpitations that dissonantly clamoured aneath her left breast. "You still don't know the way, right?…follow me," She ordered, curtain of halcyon drawn in a tumultuous turn of incarcerated nescient amour, her calloused palm instinctually quivering, outreached with fingers spindly, recherché a subconscious call of adulterous endearment, a temptation of prurience that Eros innately acceded.
'Cold,' Eros internally remarked, plane of snow mellowly bedded by that of porcelain. 'Why is she so cold?' He continued, ignorant to the strident obstreperous displacement of his perpetually moving shepherdess, her face anteriorly apathetic, asphyxiating a meagre impassioned grin. 'What could Hylas have done to rid Gabriella of such joy?...I…I want to know,' Eros breathlessly questioned, his face heedlessly mirroring that of his singular guide.
Within but the passing of minutes did the Gemini teens arrive, cherished by a monotonous labyrinthine corridor foetid with the same kaleidoscopic polychrome light as its innumerable brethren. However, deviating from its myriad peers was a discrepancy, bathed by summer light yet phantasmically, forebodingly boreal, hairs, empyrean, dainty lay pointed upon Eros's every appendage, for his eyes lucidly fell upon presence trinitarian. Demoniac and tumultuous, the cavalier visage of a horned Lilith, accompanied by the twin figures of the other beauty and her enervated, squandered attendant.
'Areata,' The boy privately vociferated, form of variegated hue hastily recoiling from Gabriella's slackened grasp. Still, the youth paid no heed to the malicious, vainglorious girl but her companions, for no matter how climacteric nor vehement his search, he unveiled not the patronising gargantuan form of Christiaan. 'Where is he?' Eros hauntingly murmured, his neck embraced by twain, phantasmic, monstrous hands, asphyxiated, impotent in the manner of speech.
"Oh~ What do we have here? If it isn't the impetuous battle whore, and, oh my! Is that Fiamma's attend-" Areata started, unbridled, enthralled by notions of repugnant despisement, yet, her words would appear slaughtered, grotesquely malformed by Eros's abrupt apathetic interjection.
"Where is he? Your attendant, where is he?" Brumal, benumbed yet penetrant did Eros query, heterochromatic eyes amaranthine in their place atop the faltering wretched Areata's figure.
"Christiaan?" Areata lackadaisically drolled, eyes nugatory, bereft, denuded to imagination of woe, her voice undividedly indifferent, "I don't know where he is, nor how he is and neither do I care."
"Huh," Eros innately stammered, his mind faltering to comprehend the absurdity of the beauty's statement. He could fathom her disinterest, her autonomous, preponderant callousness to his status, yet, he was still her attendant. Christiaan still bore the singular asset she oh so coveted, his seed, his innate potential. "But don't you need him? After all-," Eros started, only to find his deathless perdurable stare shattered by Areata's sloven motion, for hand of starless, nebulous caliginosity rhythmically ensphered a mounded, gravid stomach.
"I'm pregnant. The boy has served his purpose. Whether he's alive or dead, missing or captured, I don't care. This baby will be born either way, and she'll be the next bearer of the Olivia cognomen."