an; set pre/during AC/ACC - darkish
polarizing:.. .
Cloud always hated the flowers.
Among the broken pews and empty aisles, there were shadows of isolation building where mold and mildew would not. It was a peculiar thing, to watch the veins of the shadows climb like vines, while there was no scent of must and no scent of rot. But there would always be the flowers, and their aroma would linger. They were blinding and yellow, and they wanted to enforce that the shadows did not belong.
Cloud took a seat by his box of gleaming material, open and proud. He thought, carefully picking out the bloody bruise inside. As long as he was here, there was no need for yellows or greens.
He slit his palm and slid the pearl into his wrist. It scorched his forearm, and it said it belonged there.
He placed his arm in the direction of the brightest colors. An inferno blazed onto the planks and the vegetation. He watched the emeralds evolve into dull browns, ashy ebonies. The flames engulfed the moonlight. The heavens died in a mad fit of rage.
He knew this wouldn't last. The flowers always had a way of growing back.
For right now, it was enough. He had created hell, and maybe this time…maybe –
Maybe this time he could burn.