spitfire | c. volturi

Ancient malevolence creeped in the walls of the Volturi castle, remained unspoken among guards, and decoded through prolonged gazes pulsing in a rhythm known by all.

Bianca found solace in the deafening silence of the castle, the screech of bows pulled, and arrows piercing through barks of trees. She knew she wanted to dance closer to the fire the moment she had been recruited by the very entity that governed their kind.

She was aware of the danger that followed. That when viewed from the perspective of another, she was the danger that ignited their quiet dawn.

Caius Volturi, was the one to polish defiance. His measured actions, sharp words, and that keen look in his ruby eyes unnerved Bianca inevitably.

Indeed, danger followed her like a shadow, this time disguised in crisp noir cloaks and intricate silver rings.

Perhaps, the silence thrummed in her veins too loud, that solace was never enough to fulfill underlying voids, ultimately leaving her craving for something deeper, something that could intensify the fire as she becomes one with it.

Now, she dared to embody danger itself.