#//masqueradingfauna (c; annalise)

[thosewhohunger]

What a sweet thing. Firmness giving way to meekness, resilience tempered by kindness. The world would spit her out carelessly. Even the convent couldn't protect her, not really. There were opportunities for abuse even in the House of the Lord, and he'd see her protected from that as best he could.

A whole catalogue of forms at his command. Some ancient, some more recent. All of them used at one time or another to lure in the weary, the wary. While his kind were masters of lies and deceit, there was something appealing about letting her see himself and still throwing herself into his waiting maw.

"Not rude at all," he assured her, softened by her sweetness. A gentle voice, even and measured. Masculine and friendly. Definitely not someone who was supposed to be there. "It is quite late and I hope you'll forgive my trespass. I couldn't help but see who our newest resident is. I was friends with the room's previous occupant before she was transferred, and I was curious as to who had taken her place."

A shape formed in the darkness, mostly human. An appearance of a man, with bare chest on display. Glacier-pale skin, with darker hair only barely hiding the numbs of goat horns. Pleasing, even features, leaning more towards preternatural beauty than chiseled handsomeness. Something to appeal, humans had a tendency towards shallowness even if their guard was up. The blue-yellow eyes of a goat met hers as he approached with a smile. Not a human, not anything godly or virtuous but so good at pretending.

Difficult swallowing.

Despite a tiny aching in her heart, she kept her concentration on the page, not wanting to let anything slide. It would be pushed down, as it usually is.

Thoughts would vanish for a minute as her focus was drawn elsewhere. Observant mind becoming more aware of the surroundings as a result of her inner upheaval, playing tug of war with religion, and the lists born to be followed until death led you to the golden gates.

That was the intention, wasn't it?

Auburn brows would untense despite a shiver lining her spine. Light eyes trailed down to the area of the door where air might escape as the room became more frigid. What may be the reason for this? In all honesty, she should have been anxious and afraid, even in the home of God, where he kept a close check on the flock of sisters. Surely cascading with the written message of the devil.

Did she just hear her name being called? It sounded fairly manly; it could not have been any of the other sisters. Curiosity drove her to formulate theories. It appears she was quite the little investigator. Shifting in youth, bearing adventure in her spirit, even if it was snuffed out and bound to a radiator of biblical functions with no way out. Entrapment is misinterpreted as safety.

The candles that kept the room dark but well-lit would flicker as if they had noticed the shift as much as she had. Before moving over to the little bed in the corner, she would place her hand on the back of her neck, experiencing goosebumps. Of course, she extracted the spare blanket from its tidy fold before wrapping it over herself. Direction would bend her head toward the window.

Something in her subconscious warned her not to.

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻♱༉‧₊˚.

Gentle fingers would undo the latch and gradually push the window open. Her sockets cast a short gaze into the darkness as if she could see something. She would rub her shoulders from the air that had unknowingly entered her sacred jail cell.

"....Is anyone out there? I trust you are aware that disturbing at such hours is against word. Unless you have a bad cold, I doubt you are a sister of faith. In such a case, I sincerely apologize. Oh, I probably seem quite rude. "

How sweet she was, naive in every way she could possibly be. If it was not that, had she just apologized to a probable threat? Regardless, it was always preferable to be courteous than confrontational in any scenario.

[thosewhohunger]

Prayers rising to the heavens, only to fall on deaf ears. The concerns of angels were otherworldly, and mortal cries for succor were discarded allowing only for worship. At the Throne the angels sang, drowning out any doubt or dissension. Human faith wavered and teetered, spilling the prayers intended for God into the waiting laps of those cast out.

Carefully, carefully sorted through. All devils and demons had their favored prey, and Amon was especially particular. Wading through woes, seeking out sweet hesitance to lap greedily. Pure, uncorrupted by mortal vice. A believer who needed only be shown another path, to be made aware of the existence of the crooked way to the left.

Enamored in an instant.

Oh, what misery, to be left alone to rot? To hide such a candle under a bushel, hypocrites that followed a hypocrite God.

The question of form was always an important one. First impressions left an impact, trust to be gained before confession. A cold wind seeped through the cracks of her room. Amon was a creature of Pride and Treachery. The ice of the Ninth Circle was his to command, not the divine fires of punishment so often equated with his kind.

Annalise, he breathed softly, a cold breath on the back of her neck. Invisible for now, testing the edge of her senses. He could not enter her room, should not enter. Even the dormitory of the convent, so far from the chapel, was permeated in faith enough to make gall rise at back of his throat. But Amon was an old hand at this; she would not be the first he'd stolen from this cloister. So he lurked at the threshold of her window, prey-like eyes hiding the predator beneath.

@thosewhohunger

• 𝕿𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘 𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖆𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖌𝖍 》 Annalise & Amon

Children require the care of both their mothers and fathers. But what happens if they receive neither? What happens if you were born to be something they did not want? Feminine elements were discarded for spiteful reasons, as if they were held to low standards. Babies are passed off to locations that may use them, giving them some type of purpose as if a place holder of—

You are worthless; you are not required.

But Annalise would never consider that. Her father told her that she had a purpose when she chose the correct route, one that any woman would die for. That is what he always stated.However, the mother made no more remark. Mother never said much when she considered it.

The hair would be pushed back and covered with a veil while ocean hues stare down. Black clothing was used to ensure that freckled skin remained pristine, with the tagline "sister" connected to the names. At the very least, you could form a family with the Gods and chosen children to follow among the masses. Despite a gut-wrenching tug in the pit of the stomach, duties must be fulfilled.

It was time for her to relax after chores, and the little room she kept to herself was devoid of color save for brown and white. The aroma of ancient books that should not have been handled until absolutely necessary. However, paper and an ink quill pen for writing were on her modest desk in the corner. A letter to her father, who had been abroad for a while, making faith-based talks. Danity wrote in lovely swirls on the page, practically silent, save for the murmur of a song coming from her lips, as if copying the organs.

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻♱༉‧₊˚.

" Dear father,

I do hope you are well--- "

The words would cease. Unsure what to say, because most of the previous letters had not received a response, she assumed he was busy. He was preoccupied....It had been a year, but that was to be expected when you were the daughter of a priest, right? Sent away to a nearby monastery to assist wayward souls. But what happens when you have a fleeting notion about if this is all there is? I was wondering whether the pages' actual title was abandonment.

Nonsense.

Do not consider this blasphemous.

Be a good girl.

A faithful sister.

Do not ask questions.

Do not entertain such impure notions.