I.
Loud As A Whisper
The loneliest hearts are always the most delicious.
This scent, what is it?
Melancholia, ashes to ashes, dust to dust…blood to rust.
This is the smell of solitude.
Dreams dead-ended, the desires of the hopeless turned out of mind and into madness left to settle, tarnish, disappear.
This is the odor of agony's ache.
Female, unfortunate, too lost in her own failure to see the truth, one of those with eyes long clouded by the gray veil of unkind words.
This is the fragrance of the feast.
Howl parts perfect lips to speak the spell, but it comes back to him with none of its power spent. What prey is this? What barrier blocks his way?
Closer he comes, and closer, until he can see that there is a curse already on her – a curse that runs in the thick of her blood.
Daughter of a seventh daughter, eldest of three.
A/N: Part one of ten, of a completed series that follows a dark divergence from the usual canon. Enjoy, and
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