She's faded oil paintings and Venusian vengeance. Soft to the touch, a voice that bends and bows with the valleys.  She'd exhaled the netted veil draped carelessly over mankind's volatile roots. From gallows she'd dissolved like the last breath of autumn soured bloom. Apollo danced in her tendrils, across fragile bends and swinging limbs. No longer did the bath house run clear but crimson. The gods welcomed the divine feminine incarnate. Cast her radiance over Luna, echoing laughter to the forests and fae. Save soul for a later form, an epochs holy dole.