A/N: I'm a one shot maniac.
Perpetual Disclaimer: I own none of the characters in this collection. Shove it.
I. B R A M B L E S
She loves him.
She loves him not.
The black rose petals fall from her hands one by one, staining the pale skin of her fingertips dark with magic and lost promises.
She loves him.
She loves him not.
The black rose layers fall from her body, staining the ground with the shed life of a Fomor.
She loves him.
They bear the same name, yet are two completely different creations.
They bear the same problem; as the unsightly pieces are pulled away, all that is left is a weak center that cannot protect itself.
She loves him not.
The days fly by without word. The years fly by without voice. He must be dead, she thinks, to have been gone for so many a year.
She loves him.
Layers of soft betrayal, soft beauty, soft hatred, soft shadow, soft tainted love speak to the contrary.
But perhaps he will come tomorrow.
He loves her not.
The sharp thorns of the empty stem that cuts into her fingers—drawing blood and bitter sadness—say otherwise.
