There are very few things that the Bad Witch of Endless Island feared and what she had managed to discover struck her chest so heavily that she could feel the vile coming up her throat mixed with the familiar tang of blood. She set out. Quickly. Racing across the jungle towards a specific direction. There’s new found strength in each gallop as her features shift into something monstrous, her animal form taking absolute control. She’s already seeing red before she’d made it to her destination.
Words came prior of one of her sacred temples being decimated due to the careless actions of Twelve and her friends, and if the case were that the temple they had decided to destroy no matter if an accident or not is not the one that held one of her most prized possessions then she wouldn’t be in such a panic. For all she knew the little runts could be at all the other dwelling places but she had to know. She had to see for herself. And when she arrived, the hope of having her treasured shrine completely in tact and devoid of any intruders proved false.
The wildlife and island inhabitants at the scene were already running at the sight of her towering figure but Twelve? What made the pissworm stay she hadn’t a clue. And she didn’t care. Not when tears were starting to gather in her eyes and Bellatrix could only let out a pathetic croak as her voice nearly seized up. ‘ No. NO! ’ rushing forward she throws herself against the collapsed cement and begins pushing and tossing the heavy rocks aside.
Decades of untouched moss scratched off the surfaces of broken pillars and stone carvings. She’s digging and digging and digging like a puppy eager to find the bone it had buried. There’s tears in her eyes now and her labored breathing isn’t helping. She doesn’t care whether Twelve saw her in this state. In this very moment nothing else existed and she just dug deeper and deeper and... there it was. She’d found it and with careful handling and a broken heart she pulled out the decorated box and held it against her chest.
Shoulders shaking her head dips forward so low that the curtain of lavender strands draws themselves close against her eyes and she just... cries. She feels the dented side of her treasured box against her body and she prays that the item inside is still in tact. ‘ Regina... ’ the name is her own but it is also Twelve’s. How could she do this? How could she? Who is she even referring to anymore? With a tear stained face and purple hair clinging on wet viridescent features the witch raises to face her adversary and screams with unbridled rage and genuine pain.
‘ Y O U D I D T H I S ! ! ! ’
@𝑪𝑵𝑫𝑳𝑬𝑺𝑺𝑾𝑪𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹 ` * . ‘ 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 ’ / / 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹
