.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
At first, there was the initial bout wild irrationality that told her that she was just fine, even if there was glossy goo a shade of jungle-green just shy of tar steadily dribbling from both corners of her slanted eyes. But then the taint had spread from the ducts, too, turning the whites of her eyes that same moldy black-moss found rotting in the pit of the forest, with normally onyx irises now a faintly glowing neon-violet. And now it leaks from the corners of her mouth, too, breaking into rivulets as they slip down her jugular before fanning out through the muscled grooves of her breast. Reality had set in then, pulling back the veil of delusion to reveal a starkly contrasted version of reality. She wasn't fine. The new question was whether or not she'd end up fine, but a penchant for pessimism led her thoughts down a path laden with crushed hope. So she had indulged in the way of the grieving, on a massive feast of Cobra's Tongue, ravenous hunger for a cure for that uncomfortable and disabling emotion of despair. One final straw had delivered the blow; she could see an aura around others in varying shades and intensity, but it was only a new illusion of sight, Imonada soon learning she was incapable of interpreting their meaning on even the most fundamental of levels. It jarred her nonetheless.
Somewhere lost in the elusive, twilight land between awake and dreaming, Imonada finds herself wandering south, following a great cloud of small black butterflies --real or imagined, she didn't even bother attempting to ascertain the truth at this point-- that appeared to her one early evening. She had come upon them perched on the white teacup flowers of a chokeberry bush, her approach startling them--with their subsequent burst into air, she, as well. But they had hovered, as if ready and waiting for her attention, only to float off when they had secured it. Why the hell not?
Traveling deep into the forest, beyond the borders of her new clan's territory, as the vaporous nebulae of fluttering wings wove from winding game trail to game trail, Imonada trails after them like a curious pup.
The lush garden paradise of the Hidden Falls, with its fragrant silver acacias to lilly pads as large as a horse's torso, ever so slowly concedes sovereignty to a bleaker kingdom. The trees are tall here, but their foliage does not begin until high up where the breeze becomes stuck, leaving eternal stillness beneath, their own canopies so compressed that Imonada quickly sheds any sense of time in the purgatory of gloom. And the trunks, charcoal and burnt coffee, so uniform, soldiers lined up. Although she would be hard-pressed to admit her encroaching sense of vulnerability, she does begin humming.
Aside from the ghoulish mess all over her face and a general fatigue she could easily attribute to the rough handling life was giving her right now, ...and of course that dense slushy feeling in her lungs, breathing as if for two now, sharing with it the fruits of her toiling- she felt adequate. Enough so for a jaunt through the thicket. How long had it really been? She couldn't be terribly far away. It was so different here, though. Very old things slept beneath her feet, their presence felt within her bones.
Completely unaware of the fact, her humming turns to softly muttered nursery rhymes. "Pippety pew. My mammy me slew, my daddy me ate..." Was that a plaintive howl drawing out somewhere in the woods, both thunderous and mournful? Of course it is. "My sister Kate, gathered all my banes, and laid them between two milk-white stanes." She's whispering to herself now, taking a good look at her surroundings with that hideous gaze while doing so.
Something was amiss.
Then it hits her, none too softly. The swarm of butterflies were gone and she could not remember when she had seen them last. I just fell for the oldest faerie trick. Good job, me.
"So a bird I grew, and away I flew," she sighs, defeatedly.
~
~
POST ALL THE THINGS
@Random Event
elizabeth: you're not telling us everything.
red: let me put your mind at ease; i'm never telling you everything.
--blacklist
force allowed
plotting prior to death/maiming please
![[Image: a0jmns.png]](http://i68.tinypic.com/a0jmns.png)
line art by jennyleigh
red: let me put your mind at ease; i'm never telling you everything.
--blacklist
force allowed
plotting prior to death/maiming please
line art by jennyleigh
