Pelle had never known his own mind to be a prison before, until he saw the vastness of the angel's. What a horrible existence it was, to be born human, and what little they used of what they had been given. This, Kerts mind, was breathing with all your face when you'd been taking sips and whistles of air, before. Really, any creator had no business loving the limited man if there were these creatures. He tried this on, this shroud he was lent, and thought he could never wear anything else on his heart again.<br/><br/>He experienced her through it, the love of his life, the true mother he'd worshiped and relied on. How gorgeous she was, coming to terms with a truth that rung louder than the one she'd been kneeling for all these years. His fingers, shared with the demon, let him know she was being rearranged to fit seed, a fruitful belly, hungry and parched for what they could offer her. What a kindness extended. Pelle cried for having thought this creature a thing of evil when it shared how hot and slick she was. The demon had only adoration in its heart.<br/><br/>They watched as the destined lover became. The boy felt miserable with her when his hand and all its new thin appendages were taken away from her. She is sad for it, and so am I! The Angel had given them assurance of God by affiliation with his story, but neither of them cared. They wanted this being, instead, who had seen Father Daniel off with ecstasy, and was now showing them how to do the same. Pelle was grateful for God, then, for sending this bliss, but it seemed more important to worship the angel.<br/><br/>Pelle was drowned in his own hormones, like burying the butterfly in the powder of its wings, when his aunt, sister of his unworthy mother, opened herself with her legs and hand. It was the prettiest constellation of blushing skin he'd ever seen. He was happy to be with her in the end. Pelle laughed inside when the angel allowed him to feel her, and felt pride overtake him when she was subjected to pleasure he was part in giving. Krets let him be inside her head too. Surely having at another person without the angel's aide would have been fowl in comparison. If this was not how God's love felt, then Pelle decidedly did not want it.<br/><br/>Pelle swore love for Krets when she did. And the angel made abhorrent, adoring, lethal, lethargic, horrendous, heart-warming, sanctimonious and sacred love to them both.<br/><br/>To the world which the pair had grown blind to, this was a room of blood, the stench of human rotting the walls. Aerosol sin in any fluid that a person could make lived in this taut atmosphere, and blotted out what light could have hoped to come through the windows. An angel he was, in it's other form. Out of Krets's skull, sprouting pipes of bone, decorated with cartilage feathers. It was the head of a boy speared on three spines twice the length of the broken neck. Collarbones like steel and limbs longer than his suit of flesh could dress, ripped. Incomplete angels are only gorgeous in theory. The teeth that were a cage around the former boy's jaw clad his face like armor, and sung a chorus of grunts and animal language as it drove into the awakened nerves of the Hildegard sister. Daniel's corpse watched without means to remember as the monster stilled when it released into her, into the egg it had positioned.<br/><br/>And then the formidable bones and beautiful silhouette of the beast shrunk back to leave the shreds of Pelle, the innocent who'd become a villain simply by indulging himself in the wrong clearing in the woods. They had all taken the demon into their faith, but it had hardly been a fair transaction.<br/><br/>Krets metastasized inside her. And fed off their memories of rapture.