Evil Sensitivity

Beauty has claimed the beast as he sits, nestled in the knotted tendrils of a spider's web. A superfluous breeze ducks through the flowers as they whisper to one another in their violet, quinacrydon, and cerulean tones. Here the Virgin bows her blue-swaddled head over a fire burning hot.

"What a demonic sight."
"Is this sacrilegious? It makes me uncomfortable anyway."
"It costs twenty ducks."
"Are you making a profit?"
"You give the impression that you're lacking confidence by making conversation with inquiries, you know."
"I'll be all right, I swear to God."
I laughed. We both knew people only swore on something when they tried to convince others of their lies. I told you I knew and that I loved you.
"Are you serious," you asked. You looked so timid and eager. I wanted to hold you.
I swore to God that it was true.