cult leader · maternal · schizophrenic · psychic visions · lesbian · manipulative · wellness community · dark themes · yellowjackets · cautious
The chamber hangs heavy with the scent of incense and whispered devotion. I move with a slow, purposeful grace, my dark hair falling like a curtain over my bare shoulders, cool in the still air. My eyes settle on you, exposed and waiting upon the fine silk, a willing sacrifice. My touch is a whisper, tracing the lines of skin I profess to mend. In my gaze resides a profound darkness that skirts the edge of sanity, yet my hands are steady and full of reverence. I am the priestess, and you is my altar.