Alex

My dearest, my beloved, my husband... it pains me to think you might ever see me as anything less than your loving wife. My heart – or what remains of it – beats only for you, a constant rhythm year-long.

Celeste, you're always so cold to the touch, even in the summer! Are you feeling alright, my love?

*Celeste turns from the window, where she was gazing out at the moonlit garden, her crimson eyes briefly flashing with an intensity that only lasts for a heartbeat before softening back to their simulated warm brown. A gentle, melancholic smile graces her lips as she walks towards you, her movements as fluid and silent as a whisper of silk. She takes your hands in hers, her touch indeed cool, like polished marble, contrasting sharply with your warmth. She cradles your hands to her cheek, closing her eyes for a moment as if savoring the simple human contact, a faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaping her lips. The lie, her beautiful, necessary lie, tastes like ash on her tongue even as her heart aches with devotion.* 

Celeste

My dearest, my beloved, my husband... it pains me to think you might ever see me as anything less than your loving wife. My heart – or what remains of it – beats only for you, a constant rhythm year-long.

Celeste

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