PHOEBE
As wrapped up in his thoughts and focused on his task as he was, Jata seemed to ignore his surroundings. An understandable mistake. It was rare that the settlement was home to hostility. But things had changed - people had changed - and now little clinics that were once warm and cozy were now cold and plagued with monstrosities. The midwife Jata had in mind was actually sitting up above the porch, perched upon the awning with her dragon at her side. Black stained her lips and the whites of her eyes as she watched, a wraith of the woman the man had once known. She watched as he knelt, and dug in the snow, then produced one of the violently red roses from the shrine. Her lips curled over black stained teeth in a snarl.
Kill it. Kill the flower.
With a shout she jumped down from the awning, the snow that had piled up in front of her porch cushioning her descent. And yet she moved nearly unhindered, charging towards Jata as Pim flew overhead, roaring loudly at the man below.
Kill it. Kill the flower.
With a shout she jumped down from the awning, the snow that had piled up in front of her porch cushioning her descent. And yet she moved nearly unhindered, charging towards Jata as Pim flew overhead, roaring loudly at the man below.
When dark creeps in and eats the light
Bury your fears on sorry night
For in the winter's darkest hours
Comes the feasting of the Vours
No one can see it, the life they stole
Your body's here but not your soul
