"You must make a friend of horror and of mortal terror."
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Ooc — Jitterwater
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September 04, 2019, 01:41 PM
(This post was last modified: September 04, 2019, 02:24 PM by RIP Sobek.)
He returned by way of the tarn; silt heavy and thin, ragged like some sort of scarecrow, but alive, if a bit hungry. Whatever possessed the child to drift from their woodland home had since abated. He moved with as much enthusiasm as one might suspect a child might with a broken curfew - and clutched between his teeth was a collection of oddities the likes of which were unfamiliar to home.
A crooked white feather with smears of black dappling;
a tendril of vine hanging like sinew, dragging in the dirt;
what looked like the haunch of a bird with taloned foot attached.
He slogged through the marshland bordering home until he found some place stable, solid, and secret. A dark gap in the woods descending in to the earth, likely a shaft of the tunnels, in to which he hastily gathered his possessions.
A crooked white feather with smears of black dappling;
a tendril of vine hanging like sinew, dragging in the dirt;
what looked like the haunch of a bird with taloned foot attached.
He slogged through the marshland bordering home until he found some place stable, solid, and secret. A dark gap in the woods descending in to the earth, likely a shaft of the tunnels, in to which he hastily gathered his possessions.
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the moon licks the salt from your hand - by RIP Sobek - September 04, 2019, 01:41 PM