.story
The fog only got thicker as the boat got closer to Full Moon Island. The captain was maneuvering through expertly, though, and quickly managed to dock the might vessel at the island's side. Dawn thanked him before promising she wouldn't be long, and hopping onto the island.
It wasn't long before the fog and tree separated Dawn from her view of the boat, and it only got darker further into the island. The girl shivered, but not because of cold. Something--she didn't know what, but its mere presence made her sick to her stomach--brushed around her ankles. It winded through and around her legs and she jumped back, flailing her limbs and trying to get it off, get it off, as it gently crept up her arm.
Dawn froze as a frigid, evil presence brushed past her face and then was gone, leaving her alone, but feeling far from it.
"We've been waiting for you, Dawn."
Every instinct she had told her to run from the little Canalave motel that was definitely locked and empty yesterday, and the doorman, who was more a feeling than he was an actual presence, but something deep in the back of her head urged her to stay. And against all logic she had and every fiber in her muscles and every conscious thought, she laid herself down on the bed in the room's corner.
Dawn found sleep.
It was like being in a giant block of ice that surrounded her, took every bit of her and froze it in place, so still that she couldn't even shudder as a slight wisp brimming with malice grew and grew around her ankles, around her knees, brushing her fingertips and stroking her face and running its frigid self across her lips with a terrifying sentience that smoke was not supposed to have. It sang to her the lullaby of shrieking souls while it smothered her in its embrace.
Dawn took in a sharp, gasping breath and it came in with the air.
It wasn't long before the fog and tree separated Dawn from her view of the boat, and it only got darker further into the island. The girl shivered, but not because of cold. Something--she didn't know what, but its mere presence made her sick to her stomach--brushed around her ankles. It winded through and around her legs and she jumped back, flailing her limbs and trying to get it off, get it off, as it gently crept up her arm.
Dawn froze as a frigid, evil presence brushed past her face and then was gone, leaving her alone, but feeling far from it.
"We've been waiting for you, Dawn."
Every instinct she had told her to run from the little Canalave motel that was definitely locked and empty yesterday, and the doorman, who was more a feeling than he was an actual presence, but something deep in the back of her head urged her to stay. And against all logic she had and every fiber in her muscles and every conscious thought, she laid herself down on the bed in the room's corner.
Dawn found sleep.
It was like being in a giant block of ice that surrounded her, took every bit of her and froze it in place, so still that she couldn't even shudder as a slight wisp brimming with malice grew and grew around her ankles, around her knees, brushing her fingertips and stroking her face and running its frigid self across her lips with a terrifying sentience that smoke was not supposed to have. It sang to her the lullaby of shrieking souls while it smothered her in its embrace.
Dawn took in a sharp, gasping breath and it came in with the air.