Hopless-healer

she has skin paler than the moonlight glow and eyes so dark the crow flinches in her sight; hair, silky and ebony, a melted sea of night. spidery-thin fingers crawl up the side of the building that she presides in. they are tipped in ink, black as anything and smeared with something unidentifiable. she smells of death as she often does, for she is the bride - or rather, the bride-to-be - of death himself. she has looked forward to this night for such a long, long, long time; she caught eternity in a net and forced it to lie quietly and be still. when she sees death, she smiles - a ghostly smile that chills the world in snap-captu