A CYCLOPEAN CORRIDOR beyond the labyrinth of sewer tunnels seemed to yawn on forever — primitive walls cladding dry mire danced with auroral greens and yellows, their stones acrawl with little black spiders. Ceilings unfathomably peaking if not nonexistent. The silence coupled with the soupy dimensions ( they appear amorphous at a distance ) and cobwebs flitting to an absent wind : the mental skeleton of a child’s imaginings, a dream long and weighty with boding.
At the foot of the endless and empty slate residing at the furthest end, there existed an oaken door decussated with old iron ; seeping beneath it a pungent odour, something otherworldly, fiercely eldritch. It was three-feet tall, akin to a fairytale door ( fee-fi-fo-fum ) which sought only the unwitting entry of children. Upon it an unnameable symbol, its shape molding to mirror her innermost fear. O’ finality, erasure, the sweetest nothings. Her recoil invokes the door to yawn open, cries for glamours to come out and play.
Eyes lucent and wispy with hellfire peered out from the black void. Its pupils waned into receding black holes, as if the event horizon were overfed with swimming stars and nebulae. A wet, sarcoid sound like a tongue kneading a palette emerged from the dense blackness beyond this door, then more of It emerged into peripheral. Skin encrusted with ( corpse-white ) greasepaint casts a stark contrast upon the beholder.
Painted shrewdly carmine : Its snout, lips, and the scores climbing Its cheeks like tapered ribbons. The anomaly in the dark hummed deeply, lulling Its prey into a false sense of security. Its stare grew hypnotic. Then, soft and susurrant in Its timbre, It unfalteringly adapts to her chosen tongue, ❝ Cad atá an t-ábhar, deary ? ❞ Its chin inclined, then angles slowly to feign curiosity.
a daughter of the forests && energies. she saw the balances in the world, ENCOURAGED THEM. life && death were part of these balances. good / evil. light / dark. it was a great concern when either of those go off, there was more of one than the other. NO equivalent exchange. the universe would punish those of mortal blood who did not keep this balance in their practices; but what of those who were not mortal ? what about entities who THRIVED on chaos, destroying this balance within this existence or perhaps ------ devouring existence as we know it. ALL of this she feared.
warmth was no longer, && even she started to feel her core wane, like the light she carried was beginning to go dim; as if the oxygen was slowly, ever so slowly being DRAINED. another gasp was made, heart beating rapidly. fear was tainting every fibre of her being, this was something the fae hadn’t felt in all her time.
a question broke the silence, directed at her. she WOULDN’T, she REFUSED to open her eyes && look. speaking in her mother tongue, there was something not right.
’ a chosaint dom. solas mo threo. is féidir liom nach dtagann leis an dorchadas. ‘ murmuring, her tone was quiet, speaking to herself as if ATTEMPTING to find some hope in this CAGE. even the princess knew that ignoring would do her no good, fear ----- THE END, it does not just go away.
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