The two appeared to be inconsequential when scrutinised.

Two buildings bound by a structure that defied any concept of gravity. It was suspended there by a naïve practicality and voluntarily housed the Depraved and the Damned.

They were separated and compartmentalised by a system that they were not privy to.

It was a common understanding between them that one such party was engaged in decadence and waste, whilst the other congregation were subject to a physical and moral decline. They would compete for dominance, dancing and writhing to their own dying orchestra.

These inhabitants had crafted the exterior of both buildings. They were deceitful shells.

The occupiers of both structures preferred a sense of incongruity when transparent bodies floated past, the ones who had no ability to see past their subsequent thresholds. Their interest was not focused on those who shone as if they were a constellation.

Lights would entice the Damned during the dark hours, and mark the road for those who sought their services. It was a manipulative ploy for those who resided within the decaying walls, a design to lure and consummate with those who sought depravity. These individuals were the ones who thrived off of a decline of the soul.

The bridge always made itself welcome amidst the sombre song of laughter and desolate tears. Those who remained inside would press their faces up against the glass, condensation filling the windows with an opaque mist. Their fingers would cast marks in the steam: symbols of death incarnate, crude images or self-exploitation. It was enticement at its finest.

Their clever machinations were driven away by the presence of an external light source. The bridge became transparent, and had no place within a world that shunned the Depraved and the Damned. Their watchful eyes roamed until the dark hours granted them with its melancholic symphony of constellations, a corrupt moon and the lost souls who begged for a reprieve.