|Vaughn Davis (shebringscurses) wrote in bellumlogs,|
@ 2010-03-18 23:43:00
|Entry tags:||beast, beauty, black forest witch, plot: fables|
Who: witchy!Vaughn, fuzzy!Daniel, and beauty!Ella.
What: Fable throwdown.
When: Late morning of fable post. 11 am-ish.
She'd witnessed the sun in a whole new way. Bedroom window wedged wide open, and a witch sat on the sill. The cloak was shed to into the aftermath of forgotten carpet on the floor of 1002, but she wore a thin dress. The wind from ten stories up was quite strong, and it whipped long, black curls into her eyes. Yet, the witch wasn't disturbed from her perch. She quite liked it all the way up here, even if she was forced to come to terms with the fact that this was not her forest.
Or, maybe it was. Maybe the Black Forest had changed. Maybe all of these structures had once been trees. The lean carve of her frostbitten legs dangled out from all those stories up, and the witch tilted her cheek against the cool edge of the sill.
She smoked, but now found herself with a pipe rather than those confusing cigarettes. Everything was coming together. Everything in this moment, in this strange land, was bending to her will. Molding into her comfort, just the way it was meant to be.
The morning rolled through slowly, and by eleven there was really only one more curiosity to sate. The witch didn't bother with shoes, but the cloak and it's heavy hood were dragged back onto the brittle constellation of her bones before she set out. Ascending, ascending. Somehow, she knew the navigation flawlessly. Almost as if she'd made this trip before, although the witch was very confident that she hadn't. There was only a shred of Vaughn's awareness left in her, but it sang like a harp string. It was the lone voice urging her up, begging the witch to go see. Just to check. Just this once.
The witch complied. After all, it seemed like such a simple task, to simply open the door of R1 -- which she found unlocked -- and make her way quietly inside.