" A bottomless curse, a bottomless sea. Accepting of all that there is and can be."
wooden fingertips brush along the petals of flowers which bloom underneath the moonlight. the old churches that scatter the ward are lonely– empty of life, bereft of the ones which once worshiped inside their halls to a god that loved their creations. maybe it's what drew her here, maybe not. without the dream, without a hunter to guide.....she's aimless. a wanderer, in a strange land not plagued by blood and the hunt. it's peaceful and were it not for the company she finds herself in, a lullaby would flow from her lips for only the moon to bare witness to.
pale eyes meet that of the other, head tilted in curiosity. " The smell of death wraps around you, not as a warning, but like a guide."
@lighthouseforghosts