'Siri'
Iris could have been impersonating Ludo herself as she made her way through the fog, hood drawn to obscure her face. Was it safe for her to be here after she'd gone through so much to get away?
Not at all.
And yet, the trickster god was beckoning from her homeland's beaches, and her frustration with the herald overpowered common sense. Iris moved to melt into the crowd as it was drawn toward the flame, taking advantage of the myriad of unfamiliar faces the deity had drawn from far and wide.
She counted the names of the people likely to kill her upon discovery: Acquarone, Sokolov, Barclay...
The sweetly familiar ocean overwhelmed her senses, emboldening her. Wisps floating weightlessly like animated stars made for a stunning vision on the trail to the loudly crackling bonfire. She paced around it upon arrival, watching countless masked faces in the flickering light.
She placed her doll on top of the pile, a red string with a loop sticking out from the cloth on its back. Its body was made of wood that clicked together like old bones when it moved. The doll's shape resembled a human, its wooden body parts blocky but polished, held together with reinforced string. When the doll was moved its limbs clicked against each other like old bones.
Around it, a soft woolen cloak was draped - cut and hastily sewn, unevenly dyed into grayish and marine blue tones. It left only an opening for its feet and a face - a shard of porcelain.
When the string on its back was pulled an arm shot up from under the cloak, flipping a chunky middle finger at the observer.
Avoiding anyone vaguely familiar, she situated herself in the back. Drawing a bottle of liquor from under her cloak she popped the cork, took a swig, and waited.
Not at all.
And yet, the trickster god was beckoning from her homeland's beaches, and her frustration with the herald overpowered common sense. Iris moved to melt into the crowd as it was drawn toward the flame, taking advantage of the myriad of unfamiliar faces the deity had drawn from far and wide.
She counted the names of the people likely to kill her upon discovery: Acquarone, Sokolov, Barclay...
The sweetly familiar ocean overwhelmed her senses, emboldening her. Wisps floating weightlessly like animated stars made for a stunning vision on the trail to the loudly crackling bonfire. She paced around it upon arrival, watching countless masked faces in the flickering light.
She placed her doll on top of the pile, a red string with a loop sticking out from the cloth on its back. Its body was made of wood that clicked together like old bones when it moved. The doll's shape resembled a human, its wooden body parts blocky but polished, held together with reinforced string. When the doll was moved its limbs clicked against each other like old bones.
Around it, a soft woolen cloak was draped - cut and hastily sewn, unevenly dyed into grayish and marine blue tones. It left only an opening for its feet and a face - a shard of porcelain.
When the string on its back was pulled an arm shot up from under the cloak, flipping a chunky middle finger at the observer.
Avoiding anyone vaguely familiar, she situated herself in the back. Drawing a bottle of liquor from under her cloak she popped the cork, took a swig, and waited.
