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05-31-2017, 11:40 AM
The prospect of futures were enticing, and, having quickly learned that she would benefit greatly from foresight during the “game” Wessex had concocted, the wicked one is immediately sold by Ode’s promises of soothsaying. Giggling along the way, she slinks towards the tent to await her chance to move within. From its folds filter voices which she does not listen to, distracted by the general hubbub of the festival, and the proximity of so many others to her. A naturally flighty and somewhat paranoid creature by nature, the earlier events of the evening have left her nerves quite frayed, and, though the noise of the dancehall is stunted by the expanse of the lake and the light here is dim, she is still quite overwhelmed. Occasionally her giggles peak into nervous, sharp sounds, but, otherwise, her eyes rove across all about her, and, when her time at last comes, she enters beneath the awning of the tent to find the crimson eyed stranger within it. Thrusting her face towards him in a most forward motion, her silver eye quivers with anticipation, where the solidly black one would, were it capable. "Tell us," Beloved whispers between her excited giggles, "what do the days to follow foretell?" Does it bring power, does it bring ash? rust every place that I touch |
