A humming tune fills the oncoming Birdsong air; soft clouds drift through the otherwise baby blue sky, grains of sand scuttling about and being pushed into the still lake that brings life to the desert. For the short amount of time that you've been wandering this circular island, the longing to go on ands adventure the likely changed lands since the plague. Something keeps you tied down though.. What it is, neither you or I am sure. Whether it was an old, weary promise to an old friend and her previous leader, or the bond of Ouija and her love for the water, you are still here.

The muffled lyrics stay captured between clamped jaws, the soft tones ranging in low octaves drift through the steady, cool breeze; the now surrounding ocean keeping the moving air at a damp and low temperature, the beaches constantly being lapped at by fridged salt water. Here in the center of the now much smaller land, the lake is still partially frozen, the edges melted back into chilly water, but the center coated in thin ice. Ouija nibbles on an unfortunate bird that she had pounced as it landed next to the large tree that you had never before been able to see up close. The image of some sort of palm tree being ripped from the rocky earth and tossed about in the black pit of twisting air spins through your memory, the refreshed memory of your nerves stirring us about.

Your uncared for hooves sink into the deep sand once your body stops along side the still pool of water, glossy eyes cast down on your always-hungry fox child; here she sticks out like a very, very sore thumb, starch white against browns and reds. Though the same goes for you: black, gray and maroon against browns and reds. How unfortunate for the two of you we mumble from inside your hollow skull -our apartment- feeling your dual colored ears flick backward at our unexpected voices. Ouija must be beginning to pick up on us too, because she looks around, startled by the new voices that seem to come from the sky.

Without much thought to the disbodied voices, she sticks her blood-covered lips back into the remaining carcass of the fat little bird. If we're lucky, a bird will just fly by and snatch that thing we cackle, pointing long, curled as cracked finger nails at Ouija who only continues to snack, not even twitching an ear at us. "I won't let that happen." You growl, but we can see exactly what you're looking at, and we can feel everything that you feel; your far away stare shifts from the growing cub to the air, frantically searching for a pissed off raptor.

Displeased, we drop our scaley hands and sigh reluctantly, sitting back down. One of us sits on our pitchfork tail and yipes, the rest of us just rumble in laughter. A smirk spreads across your faux blood lips at the thought of us being put through pain, no matter if it is real or not. Ouija leaves the gutted-out bird, prancing over to the just unfrozen water and lapping at the surface. Dull ruby eyes drop from the quiet sky to the rolling dunes, the satisfying feeling of solitude finally dropping around you, making you comfortable and content with where you are.

Maybe that's what has kept you here? There's no where for prying eyes to hide, no where for any kind of danger to just pop out at you. Except for thin air we remind you, twisting our wrists so that palms lay flat up.

Text here "Chat here." Voices here
Tagged: Mayhaps an @[Africa] if Riv isn't busy? But this is open to anyone in the herd wanting to have a Voodoo experience! :3

Table by Frostie