Damaia (i_cast) wrote in we_coexist, @ 2011-07-25 01:16:00 |
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Entry tags: | baba yaga, henry mccoy |
Now and then a crone needed a break? (Open)
The sun was going down; the families were leaving the park. The lamps were coming to light as the darkness fell. The lovers were entering the park to find quaint places to hide and "love" whatever that may be for them. The moon was rising, the stars shining. It was so very romantic. It was the perfect setting for so many stories; so many things could happen when the setting was just right for them.
The petite woman walked quietly along one of the paths. She wore a sundress that was more suited for the sun that wasn't shining. A soft breeze that seemed to be only around her at times played with her skirt and her hair. She wore the simplest sandals, just a leather sole's thickness away from bare feet on concrete and grass.
She didn't seem to be going in any particular direction; she had stories to work out. There was a Beauty and a Beast. There was a City to capture; turn it into a real boy, perhaps. There was more than one knight in shining armor to upset, many damsels to put in danger. There were feuds to be started and ended. There was justice to be meted out. She had so many stories to nudge; she would be one of the creators rather than being created.
The crone looked out into the Park and waited for the largest bane of her existence, though she would miss the damn thing if it didn't come when she called for it. She settled on a bench and waited, humming a soft tune from her "home" country. It was going to be one of those oddly quiet nights, Baba Yaga was sure of it, and she, for the moment, would be okay with it.