.winter / scattersouls
the stuffy smell of damp wood permeated the air, assailing winter’s senses with every footstep she made, like the rotten old house itself was fighting back against her intrusion despite her careful steps. on the upper floor, she was all too wary that the wrong amount of weight on her leading foot could spell a worse fate than the one she whispered through the dark actively seeking.
a flutter of wings to her right had her turn sharply, and wince in her second breath as though winter expected the floor to collapse under her feet. when it didn’t, her eyes followed the shadows that danced in her torchlight until they settled on the form of a bird, sitting atop a dilapidated bookshelf. it had bright crimson eyes, and around its neck hung a white charm. winter didn’t need to be closer to know it was made of whalebone.
her free hand settled on the pommel of her blade, and she took a step in the direction of the corvid, calling out to it with a clarity and volume she swore rocked the very walls.
“you are her pet, are you not? take me to your master, bird. i have wish to speak with her.”
joke’s on you winter, she’s the bird | @nvvrrmorr
the bird’s neck craned in question - wonder - chasing the figure from the raptors of the rubble that once called itself a home. it drew little sound, little movement, feathers ruffled from the wind peaking through molded tears of once walls.
if amusement could be expressed by a beak - the bird would have appeared smiling. wings shifted and weight passed from leg to leg, it hobbled a moment from its original perch to something that may be able to resemble a chair.
but what was a witch without her secrets? for the bird was no pet - in its place sat the woman in search, the same whalebone charm against her collar.
“you’ve done well to make it all the way here,” a leg was draped over a knee, cheek propped by a palm anchored at the rest. “ and yet, the knowledge of my forms isn’t something you’ve gathered?”
there was disappointment in the woman’s voice - almost mockingly so - and Raven settled with a mirrored image of the bird tilting its head.
“speak.”
