YOU CANNOT PLACE IT
Hecate spanned/scanned the room. Smiles are always torture...but she did it anyway. Grimace or grin, they always saw it the same way at their end, the way they wanted to.
The room was dark, closed, ended...it smelled strong and intensely. The smell of decay is actually a lot sweeter than you'd imagine. She smiled in ageless recognition, but then quickly wrinkled her nose...it is also a mask of suffocation...someone open a window please!
Elysium Fields...why did she think of that?
She spanned/scanned the room again. Where was he? He was meant to be here...it was arranged...it was destined. What's the point of following the wheel of generations, of examining the millenniums for trapped moments, if you didn't play the game, the game that had been set since the beginning? Why else was she here? Men are fools!
She was frustrated, so she calmed.
The pink sugar smell of decay/death was here...so he was here. it was obvious, it was destiny. Be patient. She expanded her dark scaled tail, allowing it to fill with the blood of all men that had passed before her...and all still yet to come...and she waited the wait. It was the way, it was the game of the way.
#acceptance #death #decay #denial #hecate #pythonmother #thegame