Pause if you can't handle. c;
Death's Right Hand
When she left the grim citadel of Savage Skull, the one that had bathed itself in a wispy sheet of darkness and stepped into the murderously silent trekked-roads of Spooky Forest, she could hear her own heart-beat pouringly reverberating into the thick air. A minute of ambling out of any human's sight and into the core of that sea of green, she'd pushed her feet against the sodden earth and disappeared into thin air in the span of time that one takes to blink. Her body was then a vision in one of dark alleys of Hargeon; having appeared there with a pulsating blink of red and the flutter of a jet-black cloak. A pallid hand peered out of the cloak for a second and pushed away the hood resting on her crown, revealing a fall of snow-white mane and then tugged the rest of the cloak closer to her lithe frame. A sigh parted the lady's lips, while her heels proceeded out of the ignorable corner and into the white-hot light that washed the pristine port-town of Hargeon.
Reflected in the pools of her blood-red irises, the summer sky was neon-blue and vibrant. The sun-crisped flowers on the windows of civilians were wilting and they gaped at the tufty clouds and begged for their parched petals to be given one more shot of insulin. A smirk graced her lips at that sight, vanishing as quickly as it showed up, only to be replaced by the usual image of nonchalance. Clacking against the paved footpath, the wedges of her foot walked into a dilapidated building that housed a century-old shop and as soon as her hand pushed open the thick, oak door - a baritone call sounded from within, "Ah, Miss Crawford-" The rest of the sentence was muffled out of existence as the door closed behind her.
An hour later, Miss Crawford walked out of the musty old shop, and the first person to notice her - a young boy at the other end of the road, pointed her out with a stubby finger to his mom, while burying his face into a fluff of cotton candy. The woman's vision trailed her toddler's lead-in and quickly slapped his hand down, while an apologetic grin danced into existence on her weary face. But not a muscle twitched on Miss Crawford's face, or shall we ditch the official note and address her as Aedre? Just plain, old Aedre.
She just happened to completely ignore the exchange and turn without another glance back at the mother-son duo. And at that moment, somewhere in the back of her mind, she heaved a sigh of relief at her decision to not hide the scar on her right eye with the lily - a usual accessory that she donned, but ditched while travelling into the bustling streets of Hargeon. She had an intuition that it would attract too many glances and stares that were purely uncalled for.
'Wonder how Serene Cliff looks now, its been a while since I last visited.' She mused within the confines of her mind, while dismissing the thoughts about civilians and their lack of necessary politeness.
- Some five hours later -
Perhaps, the prayers of the flowers of Hargeon didn't go unheard, for the clouds obliged and rain descended in little gleam-drops of silver the moment Aedre walked into the very periphery of Serene Cliffs. A disappointed click of tongue mixed with the thum of the raindrops on dry soil and they felt as sparkly and effervescent as champagne bubbles hitting one's skin. The sound of that rain was a harmonic thrumming, nature’s white noise. Silver trickles of water that seeped into the soil, renewing the life-roots of the plants beneath. A homely, baked-earth smell rose from the land as it was washed and cleansed by the dewy tears of summer rain. Petrichor, the smell of the first rains after a dry spell, rose like a miasma and danced even on her tongue. It was a jasmine-and-gingerbread fragrance, warm and fresh, leaving that land with sweetness incarnate. A barely perceptible smile broke her facade, as the woman sighed pleasantly and pulled over the hood of her cloak - shading her face into darkness and walked forth with the wish of finding a temporary shelter.
Her heels no longer made clacking noises, instead they wedged into the soft earth, while her pace quickened when the shower beat down with a higher shade of mercilessness with each passing second. It was point where you could not see anything beyond a couple of meters; for sheets of silvery tears descended from the heavens themselves.
"Wh-" Breath hitched in the woman's throat, as her leg seemed to have hit something - she had almost tripped over. In an almost instinctive reaction, she turned back to notice a mess of stark blue and her first thought was, 'How did I miss that.... ugh... him?' As red pools observed for a split second, she noticed the person sitting against the rock--- she had apparently tripped over his leg in her hurry.
"Sorry for that, Mister. Its hard to see in this goddamned rain." Aedre apologized, while her hand pulled back the wet hood that threatened to stick to her eyes and close off vision every now and then.