Holy Death Rising

[Silver]

--Music for the readin', 'cause it's always good to have a tune--

"I could kill for a cigar."

Her own voice sounded raw to herself.
She tug the chains that kept her bound to the wall, and smirked at the jingle that they created.

While her options were many, she found herself deciding between sleeping or screaming like a raving lunatic.

"Too much effort."

She said to the pitch black that filled her cell.

The last few days were a different experience to her.
Her mind was not the same. She was not the same.
She felt it hard. With every sound that reached her ears.
With every dream that filled her mind.

Death. Good warm pitch black void. Bad eyes.
Everything was carving into her.

There's a bad way to rise again.
And she was doing it.

Suddenly the door opens, creaking, gritting against it's own rust and dirty floor.

"Santa Muerte. You asked for a cigarro?"

A guard held a fine Crete cigar in his hands and prostated himself in her front.

She raised an eyebrow at this development and nodded.

"Si. I did." She smirked while using a corsair accent to throw the man off.

He slowly raised his head in surprise and twitching ever so slightly, he placed the cigar in the lucious lips of Death.

"Do you have a light? Or i have to light this myself?"

He quickly lit it up and bowed his head.

"Dismissed. Thank you, mi amor."

She puffed and wiggled her chained right hand in a dismissive move.

The man bowed once more and moved away in flash, quickly closing the door.

"Interesting."

The smell of the cigar oozed over and bathe her in a relaxing odor.
While holding the cigar in a corner of her mouth, she chuckled at the thoughts that filled her mind.

And once again, the chains jingled to her favorite audience.

Pitch black.

---

[8:32:45 PM] Dusty Lens: Oh no, let me get that. Hello? Oh it's my grandma. She says to be roleplay.
[12:12:00] Traxit: this is smut stop