lora delacroix { nine } cbd3

my sister is forged from the memory of a dead girl and the ashes she left behind in her wake. she taught us to be strong, to be bold, to be brave, and to hold each other up when we can't bear to take the weight of who we are any longer. she is fire - angry, detonating every second she is alive. i am not a phoenix rising from its deathbed, though i so desperately want to be. i am left in the shadow of her wings as she soars toward the sun. i don't mind it here in the dark where i am left to my own devices, desires shrouded under her outstretched feathers. they used to shove lies and beliefs and rules down our throats until we choked on scolding irons of brainwashed filth. now she says we're free to roam as we are - but there's a familiar grip on my throat every time she speaks and it burns to think of talking back to the girl made of fire and steel. so i keep my lips locked tightly and dutifully follow her orders, because sisters before blood is our new world and i'd rather live here than scramble to survive in waters tainted with scarlet crime and sin.