We are the harbingers of endless night, and sisters in more ways than they know.
Shadow-pale are we, chimerian ladies with caveats about our necks: “Noli me tangere”. We were promised long ago to a darker fate.
We both wear the white; she the widow’s peak, I the mantle. Death lies waiting in our hands, desolation in our arms, destruction on our lips. And in our eyes the corpse candles reel when the energy flows.
Calm before the storm, that’s what they call us.
Though as cold as ice, calumny never fails to follow us with a harsh, frozen whisper.