What was good? What was bad? How did one really perceive the world? Our Perception was based on experiences. And experiences were constantly changing; therefore ones perception continues to be influenced. Did good and evil really exist? Who's to say that darkness wasn't light and light wasn't darkness. There was only balance.
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Cyriac thrashed about on the floor. What had she done to him? Was her bite poisonous? He was the king and her destine! It was impossible! Her mind reeled, her eyes growing large filling with tears. What should she do? The hysteria bubbled toward the surface like madness.
Okay. She needed to take a deep breath to calm down. She couldn't help him if she panicked. Focus. Her eyes swept over his body, and she nearly trembled at the thick veins wanting to explode from his skin. Squatting next to him, she swallowed the rock lodge in her throat, her hands hovering above his body. She had to do something. He was dying!
She hissed, his energy was at war with itself. And it was tearing him apart! The massive molten colored energy whirled around like a tornado, its based planted firmly in the center of Cyriac's chest. It was sucking in anything and everything, from the white leather couch to the doors of the cabinets in the kitchenette. Cracks formed in the walls of her room, her eyes round at the thought of exposure. And fear at their vulnerability sent a new kind of terror crawling along her flesh, and into the bowels of her stomach. Ugh. She was going to vomit. Rosalinda took quick shallows breaths, her hands hovering uselessly over Cryiac as her mind trembled underneath the insurmountable pressure of energy.
Her eyes latched onto the blue energy swelling inside of his body. Maybe he needed balance! Rosalinda felt her own energy swell inside of her before bursting from her, covering her skin in a layer of shadows. It crawled along her skin, down to her toes before encasing the room in a barrier. She scanned the room, nothing looked different, but if she focused hard enough she could see black threads of energy, connecting in a herringbone pattern, each point glowing a mysterious black. She jerked, eyes wide as Cyriac's body arched off the ground. This was her destine. If he needed balance, she would give it to him. Welp, now was as good as a time to eat. Her mouth expanded and she descended upon Cyriac.
☠️☠️☠️
"My Queen, my hands are tied. She is the mate of the King," he said kneeling before the Unseelie court. His heart trembled at the blank expression on her face. Her skin was the color of alabaster, eyes a gunmetal gray reminded him of the swell of clouds before a violent storm, and her hair—the color of the night moved unnaturally behind her. The sleek marble floor became the most interesting thing in the room.
