As Christian had followed the trail of blood into the alley, he would notice that it would continue. At one point, the crimson line seemed to stop, but then it would be reinitiated by another array of blood. Into the gloom of the night’s darkness, the fluids were lit up by the dim flicker of streetlamps from afar which barely followed the alley for a while.
The light would diminish in contrast the more he’d advance, where it would be total darkness. If he was to walk past the pitch black scenery, in the distance, he would see a very faint light flickering which made the trail of blood visible again. Reaching that poorly-lit light, it would be obvious it was a decaying gleam from an old streetlamp, which stood in the center of the path that separated in two different ways. Of course, only one of those had the trail of blood continue, and it was just as obvious which way would the beast be.
"Tell me of your… Wonderland," a vile echo trailed across the street, as if a banshee lamented a soon to come death. The dreadful whisper boomed across the ambience in such a manner that it was impossible to determine its location, as if the replication vibrated in his head. The air had a very pestilent vibe to it, as if demise was waiting around the corner right there and then, but something would’ve drawn someone to keep going. Keep walking. Choosing the right way was to put him on a more extended road, and, eventually, in the distance there was the feminine shape under the shroud of darkness that concealed most of her features, even though the familiar traits was visible from another vague streetlamp that she stood right under.
The shape that was lazily sheltered by a hazy shade kept itself stiff. No movement, no flinch, it looked as if it needed no breathing, either. What monster would it creep beneath the moon’s merciless veil tonight was unknown to most, and known to him. She had no purpose but to cause chaos in her waste, her footsteps bringing chasm and her laughter bringing anarchy. It was none other than the woman not even she could even muster enough strength to comprehend why was she even worth the numerous inner and outer wounds of loving.
When and if he would approach her, Aderyn would keep her usual you don’t know me at all, you never will grin stretched across her eerie visage. But soon after, such proud aspect faltered into nothingness but void that smeared her visage. A blank stare highlighted her beryl eyes, and despite their colour, it felt as if the baleful evil inside of her would surface with a red hue that glistened in her orbs from a metaphorical point of view. What was notable about the rest of her appearance that he hadn’t seen in a very long while were torn clothes here draped in blood that was really just a mix between hers and others’ unfortunate spills here and there, obvious scars, fresh and old, a few gunshot marks, but most of all, were still fresh cuts across her wrists, which were done so horizontally.
"I’ve run out of road signs, so I had to make new ones!" she uttered, as if in delight in her childish tone, even though it still carried a very morbid meaning to it. Clearly, she was regarding the road sign to be the blood from her victim, and that when she ran out of it, she decided to nonchalantly cut her own flesh in order to continue her game, which was still heavily bleeding even though she was completely ignorant towards her own wellbeing.
Aderyn stood still, as if in the months that she was gone, she had completely given into to her inner calamity, such malevolence now written all over her face with weather-beaten parted lips and strands of unkempt ebony hair. One would think that she was ill, eyes staring into nothingness and a skin that was all to white and dusky, as if sick. Her whole silhouette was frail, too, and overall frame seemed extremely thin.
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