Prose

the muse is dead.

as if I held her hand, full of regret. A weeping willow rejects me
breathing in my cigarettes,
death’s in the traveler
being left alone in Italy; from the garden,
all bodied, all that red and bleak

Artemis and Lauren.

Hope this soundtrack could depict a bit of weirdness, a bit of surrealism, and a bit of fear in the midst of it all too–I pretty much am looking at it through Lauren’s perspective, how everything is fading in seconds before she believes it is her time.

“The Obsession” (Chapter 4 via WebNovel).

Oktavia adjusted her suit and headgear of the rival country’s soldiers—their men. The glass could only reflect the moonlight as she annexed through the Castle of Ayothis. The sharp gladius in her hand was angled toward the brumal midnight. Her heart fluttered at it.

Chapter Three of The Obsession.

“But, you’re neglecting to tell me everything. I know that, Mischa. What have you been hiding from me?”

She looked almost sad as she put their dishes in the sink. ‘Your memories, Oktavia. That’s what I’m hiding.’

“Mischa? Where are you going? Don’t walk away from me.”