❝ 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐘. ❞ Velveteen hand loosens upon the rifle's trigger, lowering the barrel to cross her chest. Admiring the remaining handiwork scarring battleground, the elegant brutality wrought by crimson-clad stranger upon gold and holy-imbued monsters. Gone now, sent back to whence they came.
❝ But what were they, exactly? ❞ Curiously, Eva reaches for the final particles of light afloat in air. Those fingertips brush nothingness, as each one passes whilst remnants dissipate. Their imagery stings despite being embellished beasts. Oh, how they spoke by appearance alone.
❝ They remind me of ... ❞ At a loss, the revenant doesn't finish her sentence. She already knows the answer.
@umbrahs
