𝐂𝐔𝐋

His palace, where else does one hold court?

A disconnected expression decorates his features as he listens to the daily politicking of his court.

“𝐀𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝. 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬, 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞.” ——— #𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐑𝐩 #𝐌𝐕𝐑𝐏

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ mouthful of white hot fire, tongue coated in poison, ragged nails painted in my own blood; there’s a hunger in me, something vicious, a thirst to be celestial, GODLY, divine— and yet⠀ ⠀ ✧ ⠀ ⠀ 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘦𝘵 . . . ⠀⠀⠀

Bathing in the bloody, blessed waters of virginal sacrifices.

@INBLOODBATHS upturned palm but no words. They would speak enough later, now was the time for unspoken formalities.

@INBLOODBATHS The black and gray robes that he wore were tailored perfectly and yet seemed almost as if he were wrapped in shadow when contrasted against his stark white skin. It was clear he was not like other Tyraxxians beyond that royal station. Cul offered Mizara an outstretched and —

@INBLOODBATHS’s arrival was announced and expected. Her servant and guards filled the halls along with his own as the final preparations for her arrival were made. It was to be a diplomatic meeting, one discussing the possibility of an alliance between their intergalactic —

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘤𝘺. Cul looked down at his once-pale hands now coated in dripping crimson. Past those blood soaked hands was a mountain of corpses. 𝘊𝘶𝘭, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙤𝙡 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝙙𝙖𝙢𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦. A dark laughter and then… Waking.

Cul stood there amongst the prisoners. He was in quiet contemplation as he gazed on the faces of traitors, enemies, and those who had simply crossed the line from displeasing into disrespectful. They were in crystalline stasis. Their bodies, that is, their minds? Well…