• Grooms of casualty, vitreous females in their over-killed gowns, masks with feathers and jewels, beckoning all of their kith and kin to hail and bestow a friendly kiss on each cheek, signifying a welcome no measly human could fathom. Enduring sin in their veins, they were still but amorous creatures – what love ran through them they weren’t sure; but being entirely empty was not who or what they considered themselves. A morose hope for the thickest of red wine, perhaps, was what they loved most of all, but they shared a ache for each other that only humans could respect in a one night stand, granted that the two were astounding with their oblique dances.

    Snow drifted to the ground heavily, leaving nothing but a void canvas as far as the eye could see; slowly and softly all at once. Feathers, conceivably, by the fallen angels that envied them for what they were. Due to minor change of tall-tale, that was more than likely true. The forefathers of their unfortunate variety were angels that fell from the sparkling heavens, who, naturally, rose from the lifeless ground like a tyrannous martyr and shook the earth with a chilling shriek, calling all sinners to partake in their merciless rein.

    They were the very essence of veneer vacancy.