SATANAEL

Frutella, of shadows, French mystery, without trembling, broke what was once faith. Her fragile name; her gesture, a dagger. Turned her lover into a mortal villain. Honey-colored eyes, condemned to mourning, her hidden laughter disguises her longing. Tattooed thunder lays bare her sleeplessness, and the goat on her chest binds her to the scourge. Her forged body, of sculpted steel, her muscles scream that she has never fallen. After shadow and pain, she learned the lesson: loving herself was her sublimation. Satanael names himself, exiled from pain, walks in the mist without faith or fervor. Reader of darkness, of tombs and crypts, her perfect smile dominates and conquers.