luxuria et castitas

—

luxuria

They think lust is synonymous to love, and vice versa. They think she has no problems with love.

They're wrong.

Lust's "romantic" experiences consists solely of hookups and one-night stands, never an exchange of numbers or a good-night kiss.

In a one-night stand, dark hotel room and cold sheets—that's her territory. In an actual relationship, one with little to no lust in it—she's extremely out of her element. Humor is one of the only things she used to cover her fuck-ups.

When Chastity got mad at her, or when she was trying to signal something, Lust doesn't know what to do. She wished that there was a tutorial for dating.

"Chastity, light of my life, come on... It's been two days." Lust sighed, knocking a door, the other hand holding a plate of food. She'd been standing there for quite a few minutes. "Please come out. I'm sorry."

There was no answer.

She could just phase through the door, Lust knew, and Chastity knew, but she didn't. Chastity was stubborn, and Lust valued her privacy.

So, all she did was push food through the door with her hand going intangible, then pulled back.

And then, she left.

—

castitas

Her idea of anything is too chaste. Eating. Friendship. Even her way of talking. Too much for everyone else. Even her own siblings talked about her behind her back.

She was chastity personified—can she even be blamed? Her ideals are hers, anyways. As much as she cared for and loved her siblings, sometimes it hurt.

The irony is, one of the only people to accept her ideals unconditionally is a sin.

Her own rival.

—

i forgot to post this