10-07-2019, 12:27 AM
Several things of note in Tanglewood:
-The library, full of books she couldn't read, words she couldn't say; frankly depressing, to be honest.
-The town; ramshackle, like it was put together from a dreg heap, junk shacks mixed with poorly preserved houses - but she didn't exactly have anything to compare it to. If anything, her only thoughts were that it was ingenious to build protections like this. A truly novel idea.
-The bunker, which she had not dared enter, if only because the very idea of being stuck in a bunch of metal hallways felt much too similar to being stuck in a crab cage.
These were the observations she made on her first day around Tanglewood, the strangely desolate land of abandoned houses and buildings meshed with the green verdant beauty of natural growth. And, in the middle of that scale was the marsh, a place she disliked quite a bit. It was hot, dark, the waters too thick to swim in properly, too dangerous for her to know what was going on. The feeling of being in a cage worsened when she first entered that place - so she decided to make it a habit to avoid it. Far too much was wrong with it.
So, when she woke up on her second day, she resolved to stay in town. There was a windmill (which she had only been told about and hadn't seen yet), a cemetery (which people seemed to think was a self explanatory concept), and supposedly more. Her day, truly, was filled with things to do, more things than to gaze out on the coast she washed ashore on and wonder if she would ever return to the sea.
Many more things to do.
Her focus strayed, however, when she encountered a puddle. It had rained sometime, leaving a small little pool, a tiny sea. It was adorable, she thought, moving to poke at it and watch the ripples, pretending she was the god of this sea, no matter how small it was, when she saw her reflection. All motions stopped, and if she were a human, her first reaction would be to reach her hand to her throat in horror.
Looking back at her was a strange furry thing - a cat, she knew, because that was what she had turned into, by the will of the sea. She had already gotten over the whole cat thing, somehow able to move surprisingly well in this form. But her throat.... she wondered if everyone could see it as harshly as she could.
Slightly off-center on her throat was a mass of white skin, scarred over, slightly indented as if there was flesh missing, her turquoise fur not able to grow on it at all. It was circular, jagged, and rather large - like someone had taken a serrated knife and cut her open like a pumpkin. Like a bite mark, perhaps, someone taking her throat, biting down, and then ripping. She had never seen the scar in her reflection before, in the sea. Perhaps fear of her mimicry wasn't the only thing that made her shunned from the siren community.
Nobody here had mentioned it to her. Nobody had given her any glances, any pitied looks, or gazes of horror. Was it new? Or had she just been lucky enough that everyone was as blissfully ignorant as she was? Was the spell the sea cast on her slowly becoming more potent? Would she finally turn back into her previous form, or was this just another sick reminder of her fate, as if the daily thrum of questions she couldn't answer wasn't torture enough?
Her previous plans forgotten, she opened her mouth, letting out a wheezing breath. There was no sound, no voice behind it, just an uncomfortable sound. Strangled, almost.
She closed her mouth and quietly fought the scream she couldn't let out.
-The library, full of books she couldn't read, words she couldn't say; frankly depressing, to be honest.
-The town; ramshackle, like it was put together from a dreg heap, junk shacks mixed with poorly preserved houses - but she didn't exactly have anything to compare it to. If anything, her only thoughts were that it was ingenious to build protections like this. A truly novel idea.
-The bunker, which she had not dared enter, if only because the very idea of being stuck in a bunch of metal hallways felt much too similar to being stuck in a crab cage.
These were the observations she made on her first day around Tanglewood, the strangely desolate land of abandoned houses and buildings meshed with the green verdant beauty of natural growth. And, in the middle of that scale was the marsh, a place she disliked quite a bit. It was hot, dark, the waters too thick to swim in properly, too dangerous for her to know what was going on. The feeling of being in a cage worsened when she first entered that place - so she decided to make it a habit to avoid it. Far too much was wrong with it.
So, when she woke up on her second day, she resolved to stay in town. There was a windmill (which she had only been told about and hadn't seen yet), a cemetery (which people seemed to think was a self explanatory concept), and supposedly more. Her day, truly, was filled with things to do, more things than to gaze out on the coast she washed ashore on and wonder if she would ever return to the sea.
Many more things to do.
Her focus strayed, however, when she encountered a puddle. It had rained sometime, leaving a small little pool, a tiny sea. It was adorable, she thought, moving to poke at it and watch the ripples, pretending she was the god of this sea, no matter how small it was, when she saw her reflection. All motions stopped, and if she were a human, her first reaction would be to reach her hand to her throat in horror.
Looking back at her was a strange furry thing - a cat, she knew, because that was what she had turned into, by the will of the sea. She had already gotten over the whole cat thing, somehow able to move surprisingly well in this form. But her throat.... she wondered if everyone could see it as harshly as she could.
Slightly off-center on her throat was a mass of white skin, scarred over, slightly indented as if there was flesh missing, her turquoise fur not able to grow on it at all. It was circular, jagged, and rather large - like someone had taken a serrated knife and cut her open like a pumpkin. Like a bite mark, perhaps, someone taking her throat, biting down, and then ripping. She had never seen the scar in her reflection before, in the sea. Perhaps fear of her mimicry wasn't the only thing that made her shunned from the siren community.
Nobody here had mentioned it to her. Nobody had given her any glances, any pitied looks, or gazes of horror. Was it new? Or had she just been lucky enough that everyone was as blissfully ignorant as she was? Was the spell the sea cast on her slowly becoming more potent? Would she finally turn back into her previous form, or was this just another sick reminder of her fate, as if the daily thrum of questions she couldn't answer wasn't torture enough?
Her previous plans forgotten, she opened her mouth, letting out a wheezing breath. There was no sound, no voice behind it, just an uncomfortable sound. Strangled, almost.
She closed her mouth and quietly fought the scream she couldn't let out.
tags - "speech"
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