Witch's Marsh a nocturnal concerto

it was phaedra's recent mission to be invisible. 

but it was fairer to say she was slaloming the civil expectations of child-helping often impressed upon girls her age. 

babysittig was a stockless anchor around the necks of the young and the restless. as such, phaedra's ability to make herself inconspicuous was of inestimable worth to her at the moment. 

never doubt it was mercy on them all, as tact was not among the girl's distinguishing features, and she had not thought 'no offense miss but in all honestly, i'd rather staple my tongue to a moving train than humor the sticky whims of your offspring' would go down a treat with the older ladies. 

the conventional thing would be to make herself readily available as a nurserymaid, to relieve the burden on new mothers by saddling a child on her own hip for a time. but children -- plural! one child was a task of its own. add to that any number of siblings; to say nothing of octomom situations. phaedra did the math, and the equation wasn't equating. it was sum bullshit. 

coming up with some ostensible reason to leave the riverlands for the day, pledging her wellbeing, she went due the-fuck-out-of-there. 

the sulfurous smell of some morass was something phaedra had been keen to investigate. she was always going further than she was supposed to, and now, feeling every bit wet and brackish, she got herself utterly turned around in the marsh. everything looked and smelled the same: mephitic and uninviting. and when she looked behind her, the girl noted that the trail she left behind was already flooded with water. 

hey, great.

a raft of mud hens with their chicks watched warily from the marigolds and the pickerel-weeds as the young wolf rambled in circles, disappearing for minutes at a time before reappearing with confusion clenching every line of her body. 

finally, the nonsensical path led her to a massive tree that resembled some great, ossified cat. 

"oh," sighed the girl as she stared up at the sight of a mouth curled in grim amusement. her nose, twitching rabbitlike, breathed in the telluric decay. it made her think of the cuesta's fugitive.

"tch. found your cat."

she strays from young oceane for now, in search for what direction they should pick to go to next. while gracious had many years of knowledge stored in her bones, she does not consider herself a master tracker and guide. every now and then, she can find herself guessing as to which way they are meant to go. but that is alright, for not it seems that the young girl is content with just spending time with the old woman. letting oceane catch more time with herself is never a bad thing, it is a step to maturing and being able to truly be on one's own.

though, gracious finds herself crossing paths with another young girl, something from a poem, a song. unwritten beauty. gracious could almost feel envy blossom in her heart at the sight -- what it must be like to be young and not wake up at times wondering if you are on earth or in the celestial plain beyond life itself. her thoughts distract her, however, and gracious finds herself falling into the mud and marsh water. a loud splash, the mountain crumbles and succumbs to the dirt.

though, when she rises, a coat that was once snow and ash is now... mud. just mud colored. at least, only on a few major parts of her body. her chest, her legs, even some splattered on her face. this would create a ruckus of laughter from oceane once she returns.