A tissue of skin. A scaffold of bone with her wild white hair, her jaundice, her rising scent of decomposition. She is aware of her helpless state, he... parched lips and ancient form, but she is cut off from the world. It has been years since she could communicate, compose intelligible sounds… She can only lie here as she is, judge time from the shadows inside her unseeing eyes. Her back is stiff. That back of hers, she moves to speculate, must be speckled with age by now- the skin would be. Even in the semi-darkness, Linnea saw the divots the girl had dug in her lover's back with her nails. Her hands on his back were urging him to mount her, but there was a languor about his motions that suggested he was content to take his time driving her into a frenzy.Even over the music, Linnea could hear the mewling noises the girl was making now. This seemed to urge her lover forward as he finally slid up on top of her, one hand covering her mouth to muffle the sounds. Her back arched as he. More

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