themotherofevil started following you
Veins punctured violently from either side of the forest path, outstretched towards the bright blight of the sky that shrouded the very tips of the wooden blood-tracts in terrible sunlight. It felt like years since the old, leathery dark-skinned man had perceived a world outside the fog. It did not bring comfort, nor did it drown any sense of loneliness he may have . Quite the contrary; fog was it's own company and Silent Hill always had visitors, but when the world was as suddenly clear as this and you could see with your own eyes that nothing stirred: that was true loneliness.
The basic, black waistcoat with diamond hand-stitchings felt a size too tight, not much to be visibly uncomfortable but enough to force him out of his usual hunched posture and make him feel countless years younger. The brown leather of constricting gauntlets, loose stitching of soft, frayed fabric britches and hard boots made him feel even younger than that...a count of centuries seemly lifted from his shoulders, submerging him in some sort of new place.
This hardly surprised him, Silent Hill often made him see things from a radically new perspective. The letters sitting in the large purse at his belt, of uneven parchment, devoid of area code, stamps or the mark of the old United States Postal Service confirmed the all-too familiar feeling of the "right man in the wrong place". Howard took the bunch of unfamiliar coinage in his pocket and scattered them into the leaves before noticing someone on the road.
