Post by Lady Scorpion on May 30, 2005 19:25:31 GMT -8
The floor panel pushed up and to the side, and a black-clad figure stepped up into the small cabin. The panel was slipped back in place, and the cot was easily pushed over it. Slender fingers pulled half-heartedly through unruly curls, and vacant eyes surveyed the mostly bare single room. A cot, a wood stove she had let go cold, a single door, two small windows.
The dead woman crossed the room and pushed open the door to stare out at the night. There was nothing around. More importantly, there was no one around. The silence was more than welcome, as was the cold fresh air, free of the toxic fumes of the city.
And it brought a thought of something she had not done in a very long time. Maybe now was time to return to her past.
She stepped from the threshold into the clear night. The landscape was clear here, and the treeline surrounded the small clearing. She closed the door behind her and circled to the far side of the house, shedding the simple dress as she went.
She moved almost 10 feet from the cabin itself and stood in the moonlight, runes on spine and hip dark as midnight on pale flesh. Unlike the books she had seen in stores and the common practices of mortals, she knew ritual did not always require items for use. Intent alone, in her experience, could be more than enough.
A quiet monotone chant fell from pale lips in ancient gaelic as a circle was carved lightly in the dirt.
So lost was she in remembering a ritual long unused that she did not notice her observer in the near distance. He watched for a small while, then approached and entered the cabin quietly.
It was a brief while later before the woman finished, brushed the circle away, and returned to the cabin. As she tugged the waist ties into place, she pulled open the door and paused as she noted her visitor with dead, hollow eyes.
Once again she crossed the threshold, pulling the door closed behind her.
The dead woman crossed the room and pushed open the door to stare out at the night. There was nothing around. More importantly, there was no one around. The silence was more than welcome, as was the cold fresh air, free of the toxic fumes of the city.
And it brought a thought of something she had not done in a very long time. Maybe now was time to return to her past.
She stepped from the threshold into the clear night. The landscape was clear here, and the treeline surrounded the small clearing. She closed the door behind her and circled to the far side of the house, shedding the simple dress as she went.
She moved almost 10 feet from the cabin itself and stood in the moonlight, runes on spine and hip dark as midnight on pale flesh. Unlike the books she had seen in stores and the common practices of mortals, she knew ritual did not always require items for use. Intent alone, in her experience, could be more than enough.
A quiet monotone chant fell from pale lips in ancient gaelic as a circle was carved lightly in the dirt.
So lost was she in remembering a ritual long unused that she did not notice her observer in the near distance. He watched for a small while, then approached and entered the cabin quietly.
It was a brief while later before the woman finished, brushed the circle away, and returned to the cabin. As she tugged the waist ties into place, she pulled open the door and paused as she noted her visitor with dead, hollow eyes.
Once again she crossed the threshold, pulling the door closed behind her.