Ravensblood Forest at the body shop [ part ii ]

that it centers 'round them simply makes it all the more foreboding than ash paw knows — though that is by the dreadfather's own design. they weave their crimson and golden threads: of fate and prophecy, of what could be. perhaps even of what would be.

she speaks of sacrificing and another trill runs thru them; a delight. a hunger. they require blood and death, a gift to the godly soul that lingers in this flesh and bone prison. during the next new moon i will make a sacrifice. they murmur in response; tagging onto her own words, though they do not specify what they would be sacrificing.

perhaps, they think, it would be better to perform it upon the islands where prying eyes cannot see and loose lips cannot prattle.

for a wayward moment, they are lost in their thoughts before with a slow blink, their focus zeroes back upon ash paw. what sort of sacrifices do your gods require? they are not keen on believing in any sort of gods aside from themselves and their kin, the other daedric princes, but they find themselves amused by the fervor in which she speaks of her ...what had she called them? ... atka and sos.