A Red-Magenta Gradient
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Summary
“Oh, Voxy.” Valentino coos, kneeling beside him and tweaking one of his antennae between his claws. “Lovesickness suits you.”
“Thanks.” He says, drily and continues to make his best efforts to cough up his guts.
Insides half biological, half-mechanical; lungs entirely the latter at this point, he waited too long to remove the flowers manually, tweezers and scissors, and they resorted to come out in other ways. Other holes, ugh.
Or: Red flowers he refuses to learn the name of, bitchy business partners and a bit of daily Alastor’s stalk– vigilance. A day into Vox’s life.
Series
- Part 1 of A Red-Magenta Gradient
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Summary
Alastor looks at the six flowers that act as the hellish equivalent of a rose, three red-crimson and three a bright magenta, black thorns sprouting from an equally black stem, a streak of neon blue along them, disrupting the palette. It fits, regardless.
“I thought you didn’t like flowers.” Charlie says, still looking at them in curiosity, but keeping her hands firmly in her lap.
Series
- Part 2 of A Red-Magenta Gradient