08-21-2019, 03:43 AM
The shack is small, barely even a room, but it's better than sleeping out in the open—especially when 'out in the open' is located knee-deep in an alligator-infested swamp. While she's hunted their kind before, and happily so, she knows that she wouldn't stand a chance against five of them, and she's not interested in being tossed around realms a second time. No, she thinks, I'd rather swim in mud again. The trip, after all, is too fast for her physical body to comprehend, but her soul takes all of the pressure. Even now, she's aware of her tightening grasp around its pieces, fearful that any slack will cause them to eventually drift apart.
She'll have to be satisfied with what Kapalaran has given her.
Mayari inspects the cabin with a pensive expression on her face, questioning whether the establishment is still even structurally sound. The door creaks on its hinges, the corners are decorated with cobwebs, but there's a bed and a barrel of clean water inside, a cracked mirror hanging by a table and wall sconces burning low; it's good enough, she tells herself, certainly better than the cold patch of earth she'd slept in the night before.
She twists around and untangles the makeshift bag that she had been carrying with her, letting its contents scatter across the hardwood floor. The only thing clean is the alampay that she had woken up in, wrapped in plastic and glimmering, and she slips it between the mattress and its bedframe to keep it close but out of sight. The rest of her belongings, she places on the table: a black candlestick, a deck of tarot cards, and a wooden figurine of a woman holding a crescent-shaped moon, bare-bodied save for a shawl wrapped around her shoulders.
She's nudging them gently into place when she hears a tentative rasp on her door, followed by a curt voice. Mayari presses her lips together, unhinged at her presence, but she walks over anyway to part the rotting slab of wood and look at Vathmos with a curious but critical eye. "Why?" The painted dog cocks her head to one side, feigning confusion, heart hammering with barely-repressed irritability in her chest. "So you could force-feed me more pawfuls of mud? Or did you just want to rub it in?"
She'll have to be satisfied with what Kapalaran has given her.
Mayari inspects the cabin with a pensive expression on her face, questioning whether the establishment is still even structurally sound. The door creaks on its hinges, the corners are decorated with cobwebs, but there's a bed and a barrel of clean water inside, a cracked mirror hanging by a table and wall sconces burning low; it's good enough, she tells herself, certainly better than the cold patch of earth she'd slept in the night before.
She twists around and untangles the makeshift bag that she had been carrying with her, letting its contents scatter across the hardwood floor. The only thing clean is the alampay that she had woken up in, wrapped in plastic and glimmering, and she slips it between the mattress and its bedframe to keep it close but out of sight. The rest of her belongings, she places on the table: a black candlestick, a deck of tarot cards, and a wooden figurine of a woman holding a crescent-shaped moon, bare-bodied save for a shawl wrapped around her shoulders.
She's nudging them gently into place when she hears a tentative rasp on her door, followed by a curt voice. Mayari presses her lips together, unhinged at her presence, but she walks over anyway to part the rotting slab of wood and look at Vathmos with a curious but critical eye. "Why?" The painted dog cocks her head to one side, feigning confusion, heart hammering with barely-repressed irritability in her chest. "So you could force-feed me more pawfuls of mud? Or did you just want to rub it in?"
BLACK AS NIGHT, BLACK AS COAL
[table][tr][td][/td][td][/td][td][/td][/tr][/table]MAYARI "MAYA" MADRIGAL — TAGS — TANGLEWOOD