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he pulls the silk by the tails of the bow and it slips, revealing an ocean of bloody gems and volcanic eruptions, a ghostwater gospel of ruby-tinted deaths and gasoline bloodstreams, perfectly incased in a set of jaded eyes. the blindfold glides to the floor, forgotten so easily. the red-eyed man, with black hair slicked to the side, looked like a crow, always watching your every movement with oblivion eyes. he was a stark contrast to the room, emitting something soft and light. but however, he was radiant in something lethal, something venomous. and one could say he was a pretty thing – looked like a saint when he smiled, but there was something that was always off.
