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The sun begins its slow-as-eternity descent against a picturesque landscape, throwing oddly shaped shadows against the marble walls of the Volturi's empire upon which Corin passes as she walks with her head bowed, searching for her mistress.
It's then that she sees him. The man she calls master, with his hair of ink and eyes of doom. That vile and wretched little boy. For that is all Aro is to the woman as ancient as the universe, a little boy. Corin wrings her thin robe in her pale hands, hoping not to disturb him in important matters. But she wishes to see Sulpicia. Sulpicia, with her bone-white skin and razor-sharp smiles. The little boy presses his lips to Sulpicia's, rough and forceful, and Corin burns like she's being transformed again. He knows everything that the Volturi think. When and where and how. She wonders how she has not been disposed of for her traitorous thoughts.
Sulpicia sighs in adoration as she leans into his embrace. "My love..." A soft whisper embedded with invisible knives that cut at Corin's dead heart and make her want to scream, to cry, to do something. Her voice drips like molasses, sweet and sticky like candy.
Corin's smooth, marble skin crawls and her empty stomach wretches as she realizes that Sulpicia will come to her tonight, act like nothing happened. "We're just a platonic marriage," she had lied with her eyes open and her teeth exposed. She can feel it, then, the ghost of a small hand on the back of her long neck, and doesn't know if she likes it or not.