Pitapat

At that moment, the foreboding microvibrations of unraveling plumerian petals pitapatted throughout Our eardrums, like a flood of baby rats scurrying across hardwood floors at night.

It was Puella Caesaries, and She was abloom with bursts of magentas, pinks, and reds. A noticeable arctic mist hydrated the chakras that grounded Her passions.

Her gaze was unrelenting and transfixed on Us, like a shadow sin that follows you throughout a lifetime.