𝕱𝖔𝖗𝖘𝖆𝖐𝖊𝖓 ✧ 𝔐𝔦𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔢𝔩 𝔏𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔫

𝔈𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔉𝔲𝔠𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡

♦

                 A ruffle of burgundy hair moves through the crowd, the world coming to a slow as ecstasy and a stolen life course through her veins. For the world's last celebration, a party pulsates through her home, and the revelers split like the Red Sea as she enters. A sly smile plays on her lips, soaking in the attention she can never get enough of.

The vibrant atmosphere embraces her, a chaotic symphony of laughter, music, and clinking glasses. Lights flicker in various hues, casting a mystical glow on the diverse crowd. As she moves through the throng, every eye follows her, captivated by the enigmatic energy she exudes.

The pulsating beats of music intertwine with the pounding rhythm of her heart. It is a night of abandon, a celebration to defy the impending end, and she is the undisputed queen of this last hurrah.

A dark, lustful energy permeates the walls, emanating from her like a magnetic force. As she moves through the crowd, her hand glides along passersby, leaving a trail of desire in her wake. People practically faint from the intensity of the sensation.

Couples around her have no shame, publicly engaging in their most primal desires. The air is thick with a sensual electricity, and Lilith revels in it. The atmosphere embraces her, a manifestation of her own magnetic allure, as if the impending end has given everyone a reason to let go of inhibitions and drown in the sea of desire.

"Lilith!" A voice calls out to her from the kitchen island. She turns, noticing her sister with a member of her band standing next to her. Excitement surges through Lilith, and she jumps into his arms. He instinctively holds her up by the bottoms of her thighs, her red lingerie-esque dress riding up.

"You were amazing." Her sister then pats Lilith's bandmate on the shoulder, attempting to include him. "You too, Danny."

Lilith grins, her cheeks dimpling as Danny kisses her proudly. "Somehow I don't think you mean that, Nyx," Danny teases.

"You're right." Nyx nods, her gaze flicking to her sister. "You were killer."

"Literally," Lilith quips, her sister seemingly distracted by something in the distance before departing. Lilith then smashes her lips onto Danny's before hopping down and straightening her dress. "Let's do a line."

With an agreeable nod, the two embark on their drug-induced journey, mixing an assortment of substances she knows are a bad idea, but it is the end of the world—nothing is stopping them.

♦

After a night of hedonistic revelry, Lilith gingerly sits up, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the intrusive sunlight piercing through the curtains. Disentangling herself from the unfamiliar lovers on either side, she climbs out of the tangled sheets, every movement sluggish and heavy.

A pinch at the bridge of her nose offers a weak attempt to ease the throbbing ache in her head. Her blurry gaze lands on the bedside table adorned with a half-empty whiskey bottle. She reaches for it, seeking relief in the amber liquid, the fiery kiss of alcohol jolting her awake.

Her leather pants and rumpled white tank top call her name from the floor. Dressing in the remnants of the night, bottle and pack of cigarettes in hand, she ventures through the haphazard sea of slumbering bodies occupying her once tranquil abode.

In search of her sister, Lilith finds her amidst a harem of disoriented guests. A silent exchange passes between them, and they make their way to the front patio. Lilith's fingers conjure fire to her cigarette, the smoke trailing in ethereal wisps.

Nyx reclines in her chair, the weight of sleep still evident in her eyes. The distant wail of warning alarms echoes like a haunting chant. The sisters, bound by an unspoken understanding, share a glance, acknowledging the aftermath they face.