Your strings bury deep, delivering crimson tones. A loud, gravel voice sounding songs of a dead man for the dead man. The Thinker lost to time; the Witch hums on in melancholy.
witch
Narrowed Eyes
The witch watched the thief from above. She had pocketed a belonging from a traveller asleep in the carriage. They made eye contact, the witch and the thief. The thief, instead of returning the belonging, jumped off from her seat and moved on.
Support
The bit of his axe stuck out of the side of the tree. He had been clearing the area in attempt to excise the cancer growing. He adjusts his harness and pulls his axe free. Another enchantment by the witch, the woodsman keeps at his task, now with ease.
Sacrifice
Here rings the next bell and another step forwards towards the great beast. The bells sound, roaring a great destruction. Gothic spires decay in the moonlight all while the Witch bleeds. Her eyes wide on the beast.
Glass Glitters
The young woman wears her emotions outward, while the Witch swallows hers down like the most horrible tonic. The Witch helps where she is able, all while trying to learn the young woman's part. But every time they're swallowed down, glass littering the floor.
Painkiller
Dull that pain, through any means, the Thinker says. The Witch watches on as he gathers herbs, salves, potions. A fading song in the air dances around and his ears twitch. Over time, the Witch knows the painkillers are there for the Thinkers benefit, attempting to provide any opportunity to acquire more. But the Thinker … Continue reading Painkiller
Bastions
The snake had suffocated the Thinker hundreds of miles away. Her heart stood behind stone and masonry, many miles more. It crumbled and tumbled, the young Witch sat hugging her bare knees, hiding her face. Her frail hands, her nails clenched deep into her flesh, staining protein in the rust.
Growth
Though the witch loves to conjure potions, she attempts making charms, spinning stories, and teaching others. Masters before her watch in earnest of her growth. Some smile, others scowl.
Cylinders
The cylinders sit brewing their concoctions and potions. The witch waits nearby, taking in the sounds of a bustling city tavern. Music, lights, merriment. Different, but beautiful.
Blessings
It was time to leave, into a different world. But she knew the woodsman's cabin would remain. She raises her hands, casting a blessing on the surrounding forest. The trees grow tall and green. Bushes glisten with wild berries.
Chloe Vasquez 