03-06-2025, 02:24 PM
(This post was last modified: 03-06-2025, 02:43 PM by Sibyl. Edited 1 time in total.)
Her dress had been silver.
Lined with patterns of crimson, the two colours that represented Sibyl. Silver, she was the silver hand and it was ingrained in her very being and crimson — crimson was simply beautiful. Sibyl was ghostly, where her sisters were dark of hair, their complexion tan. Crimson shouldn't have been her colour, not with the way it sat so starkly against her skin, but Sibyl could always have been found with it somewhere. Silver adorned her like a second skin, but it was crimson that laced her like additional veins.
Her dress had been silver, and the water had lapped at her ankles and she had been at home. The full moon had hung in the sky and they had been basked in a silver glow, and Sibyl's eyes glazed over with a cloudy look as the ritual went underway. To some, it went wrong, but to Sibyl, the crashing tides were like a hug, a welcome home, child of the sea.
She hadn't Seen it, and that was the only issue that the Silver Hand had with the entire ordeal. Her Sight had failed, for some reason or another, and the waves claimed them without warning. Her Otter, so loyal in life and in death had curled in the water at her feet, intent to go with her.
Salt water had filled her lungs.
It was warm, invited, and Sibyl let her body go with the pull of the tides. Wherever she was to go next, it was the right path. She need not swim, need not fight it — fate was underway and she was it's trusty follower. Her sisters, both of them, and likely the coven itself would end up wherever she was, she knew. She would end up where they were, regardless of the path she would take.
The moon spun streams through the water as she lurched with the waves, her Otter like a snake up her leg as they went together.
Her eyes closed, but she was not claimed.
Nothing could claim her. No man, not even Death. Sibyl felt her conscious drift, and darkness drew her in.
Bleary eyes opened, yet everything was blurry. As she opened her mouth, Sibyl realised she was still under water. Soothed, the witch broke through the surface of the water with a hollow gasp. Instead of nimble fingers and slim wrists, she held furry toes and claws. Not feline in nature, she could tell even by the brief time she had before the waves were pushing her forward with their current. Sibyl washed up on the sands, sodden and different, but the pressure on her leg was familiar.
Curled even there, held on to fur and flesh, was Vindicta. Even here, she was with her. Wherever here was. Her body lay strewn across the sands as the water lapped at her hind, and Vindicta crawled up the sands to curl by Sibyl's head. "Sister," the little witch crooned, her voice airy and hollow. "It is good to see you," companion was not a good enough description for Vindicta. Familiar was more fitting, and sister even more so.
Vindtica chirped, and Sibyl laughed.
Lined with patterns of crimson, the two colours that represented Sibyl. Silver, she was the silver hand and it was ingrained in her very being and crimson — crimson was simply beautiful. Sibyl was ghostly, where her sisters were dark of hair, their complexion tan. Crimson shouldn't have been her colour, not with the way it sat so starkly against her skin, but Sibyl could always have been found with it somewhere. Silver adorned her like a second skin, but it was crimson that laced her like additional veins.
Her dress had been silver, and the water had lapped at her ankles and she had been at home. The full moon had hung in the sky and they had been basked in a silver glow, and Sibyl's eyes glazed over with a cloudy look as the ritual went underway. To some, it went wrong, but to Sibyl, the crashing tides were like a hug, a welcome home, child of the sea.
She hadn't Seen it, and that was the only issue that the Silver Hand had with the entire ordeal. Her Sight had failed, for some reason or another, and the waves claimed them without warning. Her Otter, so loyal in life and in death had curled in the water at her feet, intent to go with her.
Salt water had filled her lungs.
It was warm, invited, and Sibyl let her body go with the pull of the tides. Wherever she was to go next, it was the right path. She need not swim, need not fight it — fate was underway and she was it's trusty follower. Her sisters, both of them, and likely the coven itself would end up wherever she was, she knew. She would end up where they were, regardless of the path she would take.
The moon spun streams through the water as she lurched with the waves, her Otter like a snake up her leg as they went together.
Her eyes closed, but she was not claimed.
Nothing could claim her. No man, not even Death. Sibyl felt her conscious drift, and darkness drew her in.
Bleary eyes opened, yet everything was blurry. As she opened her mouth, Sibyl realised she was still under water. Soothed, the witch broke through the surface of the water with a hollow gasp. Instead of nimble fingers and slim wrists, she held furry toes and claws. Not feline in nature, she could tell even by the brief time she had before the waves were pushing her forward with their current. Sibyl washed up on the sands, sodden and different, but the pressure on her leg was familiar.
Curled even there, held on to fur and flesh, was Vindicta. Even here, she was with her. Wherever here was. Her body lay strewn across the sands as the water lapped at her hind, and Vindicta crawled up the sands to curl by Sibyl's head. "Sister," the little witch crooned, her voice airy and hollow. "It is good to see you," companion was not a good enough description for Vindicta. Familiar was more fitting, and sister even more so.
Vindtica chirped, and Sibyl laughed.
the staff team luvs u
![[Image: 96490685_ugF7t7mQO7qKcMO.png]](https://f2.toyhou.se/file/f2-toyhou-se/images/96490685_ugF7t7mQO7qKcMO.png)
