@beastmasterr | starter call
What was he thinking?
Stupid boy...wicked boy!
So much destruction, all his fault, the thought alone made Credence’s heart race in his chest, the darkness ever threatening to take over again. So much destruction, and then so many people, excruciating pain beyond anything he’d ever felt before. When he’d become himself again, he’d found himself in the ruins of the church. He’d panicked. He couldn’t stay here, not anymore. So he’d grabbed what things he could find (Ma’s stash of coins- theft was a sin but it didn’t matter because he was going to Hell anyway, an old coat that had always been too big, the papers that might hold some key to who he was) and he’d run.
He had no idea how he’d managed to get onto the boat without being noticed, but he had. No idea where it was heading, or where he was running to, as long as it was away. Away from the New Salem Preservation Society, away from Mr Graves, away from Credence Barebone.
He’d tucked himself away in a darkened corner of the ship, huddling into the coat, and that was when he heard it. Quiet footsteps coming in his direction, and he pressed back into the wall.










