Cerulean Cape godly ichor

in the witching hour — the hour that vaermina's whispers are their most potent, calling out to saint across the veil; summoning — saint steals across the sandbridge to the mainland.

burnished gold eye peered over their shoulder, rotten heart aching for the only thing that they love: their siblings.

sweetharbor had been good to them but saint does not belong with the godly folk there; a surpris! that they have not yet been smite'd with holy fire. the darkness that writhes and wars with justice within the saint sings in the very marrow of their bones.

no prayer could vanquish it.

and!

there was their missing brother.

loathe as they were to leave behind their sisters; risked a soft whisper nudge of affection to @Ava Amara and @Anathema before saint slipped into the welcoming embrace of the night.

a risk!

they could alert everett to their departure ... or perhaps one or both might be inclined to follow them. or perhaps the whisper soft nudge would not be enough to wake either of them.

eyes; blind and seeing focus upon the mainland; the stink of saltwater clinging heavy to their coat, their paws cold from the iced nip of the chilly air and more chilled saltwater.

a deep breath is taken before they break into a run along the cape's sands; unsure where they were going but trusting the whispers acting like a lighthouse:

saint, saint, saint. find me —