eve becomes SNAKE -- or snake becomes EVE. whichever way ROUND, she is FREER. hell follows her ‘round, hell called MAN, hell called ADAM, trying to make the CHANGING about him. adam demands of god why he is being PUNISHED like this. eve finds GRACE in the dark cracks between rocks. eve finds god in the SOLITUDE. eve finds ABSOLUTION in the red press of her knees / scales into the dirt. eve, UNBLINKING, watches adam rail. adam demands ANSWERS and eve / snake / eve exits the GARDEN to go and find them for HERSELF.
ind. priv. kate fuller of el rey network's from dusk till dawn: the series. as told by duchess. est april 4th 2017.
the question was not one that richard expected –– thick eyebrow arching up to wrinkle his forehead for a moment. oh, kate. once upon a time she had been a thing of remarkable innocence. now they had all fallen down, human or otherwise. history left no room for the virtuous. finally, a smirk pulled across his handsome features as fingers slid into the inside pocket of his coat, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. perhaps they served as less of a crutch as a culebra now, but old habits died hard, and he was not a person who favored change under any circumstances. the lighter is presented after the pack of marlboro. “think it’ll help you sleep any?”
FOR A MOMENT he almost looks confused. she likes that she can still manage to surprise him sometimes. he’s seen into her SOUL, after all. kate’s never had the pleasure - or is it misfortune ? of gazing into someone else’s being like that, but she assumes it’s pretty easy to pick someone apart afterwards. they act this because of that, they feel x because of y. simple cause and effect. maybe richie didn’t want to pick her apart. kate’s not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. slender fingers pluck a singular cigarette from the red carton and then accept the lighter shortly after. ‘ probably not, ’ she admits almost dully, placing the filter between her lips. she feels a little foolish, she doesn’t even really want to start smoking - daddy always said it was a nasty habit, but nowadays the smell of richie’s brand is more comforting than anything. it takes her a couple of tries to flick the lighter on. thumb is trembling, body always responding to the constant flood of anxiety through her system. two failed flicks and she curses, damnit, softly under her breath, and the third time’s a charm. she’s learned to inhale, after many ( not so subtly ) stolen cigarettes lit by herself. first time she coughed so hard she cried. now, it doesn’t feel good, but it’s not so bad. ‘ i don’t really think there’s much that will help me sleep. ’
