Graveyard, Late Thursday
Death belonged to the graveyard now, and the graveyard belonged to her.
She reshaped it to her whims -- turning the grass red on a whim before replacing it with thistles an hour later. Growing tall, fragrant trees that attracted strange birds, then crushing those same birds midsong with greedy hands. Sometimes, she raised the corpses and made them dance until their bones fell apart, or (if she was lucky) drew in somebody even more fun to play with.
On most days, this was the only life she could imagine.
On her best days, she knew this hadn't always been her. That before the island's plague began to twist her, she'd been much more than this. There'd been duty and siblings and friends and a sense that things made sense.
Today wasn't one of her best days. Today was a day for singing a song no one on earth had heard for centuries, and thinking wistfully of the dirty-copper flavor and sticky slickness of blood.
[OOC: Mostly establishy because late,but open if anyone wants SP.]
She reshaped it to her whims -- turning the grass red on a whim before replacing it with thistles an hour later. Growing tall, fragrant trees that attracted strange birds, then crushing those same birds midsong with greedy hands. Sometimes, she raised the corpses and made them dance until their bones fell apart, or (if she was lucky) drew in somebody even more fun to play with.
On most days, this was the only life she could imagine.
On her best days, she knew this hadn't always been her. That before the island's plague began to twist her, she'd been much more than this. There'd been duty and siblings and friends and a sense that things made sense.
Today wasn't one of her best days. Today was a day for singing a song no one on earth had heard for centuries, and thinking wistfully of the dirty-copper flavor and sticky slickness of blood.
[OOC: Mostly establishy because late,but open if anyone wants SP.]