(Untitled)

[dread_whispers]

So messy... Miss Edith needs her dress washed.  We've been very wicked to have earned so much.  It's drip-dropping from my fingertips.

There's a memory in every drop.  A scream, a cry, a whimper... it's musical.  A symphony in red.

Liquid poetry.

I've dripped a sonnet...

Comments

[tasteofgrief]

The Old Ones would have approved.

[dread_whispers]

Would they? I didn't know they made time for art.

[tasteofgrief]

It was more than art.

[dread_whispers]

Will you tell me what it was? I do so like pretty things.

[goddessdivia]

You do have a way with words. We really should conduct a symphony of our own.

[dread_whispers]

Mm... but not today.

Today is beautiful. I don't want to drown its music.

[dark_butler]

That is...

Oddly compelling.

[ooc: He's fascinated despite himself because he can actually see her point, which disturbs.]

[dread_whispers]

Have you been stained, gentleman Walter?

[dark_butler]

From head to toe.

[dread_whispers]

Mm. And what does it sing to you?