[private] été le plus beau jour de ma vie

[Bardot]

Bardot

I know what sin is

She has a habit of attracting dark things. Perhaps it’s because she is a bright soul, with her buttermilk skin and jungle flowers, a picture of innocence. Maybe they can sense that amazonian resolve that makes her more of a challenge to break. Maybe on a subconscious level they are drawn to her for a different reason, sensing something beneath that calm doe-eyed exterior. The blood of jungle cats that runs thick in her veins that make her stand her ground when in the face of another predator. She has witnessed plenty of darkness in her life, had been born to two lovers that ended up destroying each other and she had watched every part of it unfold before her very golden eyes. The aftermath of her dam’s assault and the torturous punishment on Lion. She had still loved him, even after what he had done. Just as she had still loved her mother after watching her nearly raze the jungle and Sisterhood to the ground in her white knuckled campaign for justice. What did that say about her? That she could still care for someone even after seeing the worst in them, even if they were a monster? They say the sins of the father may fall on the son but what about their daughters? What burden do they inherit? She does not move from her position when he comes to join her, a ghost of a smile whispering over her dark lips as she notices he doesn’t wait for her approval. He is a handsome stallion, a kaleidoscope of green, white, and gold. Her tarnished gaze glances over the fine feathery wings before meeting the lavender of his eyes. “Of course.” She says quietly, staying firmly planted where she was. There was plenty river for them both, if he remained close then that was a choice. Intentional. She says nothing more, simply looking up at him beneath long lashes as he comes closer. She knows better than to immediately trust a pretty face, aware that some snakes wore a mask before shedding their skin and revealing the sin beneath. Perhaps he was the devil himself, lurking beneath that handsome exterior. Perhaps she wouldn’t mind if he was.

They may call me a sinner, but I am at peace with myself;

html © dante.

@[Molech]