There is something unnerving about the singing of a child. Always has been. Some subconscious feeling from too long ago associated it with disturbance, the soft, slightly off-key lull ominous through halls already dripping with darkness.
For her, it was joy. For all others, a cruel mockery of it.
The creature walks in her shadow, long to accompany the brightness of her light.
Her eyes are closed, and it rises, if only for a moment, a brush of what could be a hand against her hair, as if it could touch, yet that contact was so far away.
It is little more than a wind upon a single lock before the creature sinks into her shadow once more, a shadow that does not fit her stature.
She knows how this place is partial to silence. Unfortunately, much more than she’d care to know. Still, she persists, reasons on why unknown even to her. —Only when an outside influence comes into play does she slow, notes dying down into the air, eyes opening only to blink —once, twice— three times as her pace screeches to a halt. Shoe scuffs against the ground, head low, lips pulled into a line and blue hues darting to the ground.
With all she knows about this foreign land, there is not even one instance in which she can recall that the gallery was breezy. (Save for when she was near Breath, but, no, that is whole rooms away. There was absolutely no way that she could feel that from all the way over here, behind all these closed doors nonetheless.)
A pause. Head still ducked down, she takes a moment to tuck a stray lock of golden strands behind her ear once more. Inhale, exhale. Will the goosebumps away, Mary.
There’s nothing to be afraid of.
Are you still there? ❞
—words, although quiet, echo uncomfortably in the stone still hall.
Put a "+" if your muse thinks my muse is cute
❝ Whoa. ❞
perennialcanvas started following you
Oh? I haven’t seen you around. What’s you’re name? [smiles]
I don’t know you.
There’s always time to pick yourself up and start another great day! :D