did a bit of a spooky piece on my old, tiny tablet of my dnd witch, Nympholli-a little bit more spooke ™ under the readmore
He’d seemed like a simple enough host. A bit odd, but the witch didn’t seem enough trouble. Until she’d turned to leave, and vines tangled her feet to the ground, struggling in mild panic.
“You were askin bout what I ate, before.”
“Wh..what?!” Whether he was undead, whether he was plant, or something fae, she didn’t know. But the figure of the man shifted near-silently before her, a yellow eye fixed on her form in almost tired regard. He twisted one hand in another, and she noticed a faint glimmer on his finger. The husband she’d buried before wore it..simple silver, twined in vines. She shivered at the sight.
"When you were sitting, watching me deal with an order. You asked what I ate. Never answered….the answer’s bad people, miss’m.“
The stranger then held the hand up in front of her face, and she saw another glimmer that made her blood run cold. The ring of the wife sat on the next finger over, matching to his. They’d been gardeners, if she recalled properly. But more importantly, she’d dealt with the bodies far deeper than this place…
"Winter means I’ve got to eat meat. Undead or not, doesn’t matter. Nutrients, it is-Does as the plants need.” The would-be killer gulped, trying to struggle more and break free to no avail. The hand lowered to a single staring eye, and the flower that settled on the other side of his face in full bloom-ones she realised were just aside from the burial site.
Almost seamlessly, the witch’s jaw split with a quiet crunch of an odd joint. Leandra Efrie clenched her eyes shut in the face of the maw that stood from his usually soft, calm face in a jarring contrast; refusing to see the array of crooked, warped fangs filling the back of his mouth.
“and let me tell you, they haven’t been saying very good things about you, little killer.”
