12-05-2017, 11:43 PM
Reagan
I want you to know that I'm all yours; you and me, we're the same force.
If there is one creature in this wood that knows about loneliness, it would be Reagan.
She walks, cloaked in black, her body changed to meet the needs of a disguise--she is as dark as night, an oil slick sheen to her. She is like tar--sticky and sweet and dangerous. Even her eyes are changed this day. She moves like a viper, sliding between the trees on legs that were made for sinning, silent as the grave. She never comes to these woods anymore. But something in her heart drove her here this day, and she came with a lump in her throat, the images of her memory assailing her like the many sharp blades of those icicles of her ex-husband. That magical pain that seered her heart and made her as one of the mortals.
This, here, is where she almost died.
But these trees gave her their whispers and beckoned her here. So she dons protection to hide her face, and changes the shape of her body as so to go unrecognized by any who should approach her path. While she does not take for granted that she is so infamous that she would be known immediately by sight, there is one undeniable fact--
There are a limited amount of magicians in this world, and far fewer females at that.
These trees bent and bowed for their mistress as she quietly makes her entrance known—they would have known her anywhere. She has birthed her children in these woods. Hunted these woods. Protected and defended them.
Until it was her job no longer.
Her family, was broken, her children scattered.
And so she finds, it is time to begin again.
It does not escape her notice, that despite how far flung her location in this forest was, that there was always something—or in this case someone— to find. It was as if, even in the reverie of one's quiet, there is always an anvil. In this case, a copper colored anvil with bright points that shone likes stars in the darkness.
Reagan says nothing, but begins to turn away, tilting a shoulder to him, dampening her steps so as not to turn over leaf or root. Perhaps she would slip by unnoticed—much like a shadow or a poltergeist.
She was not sure she was ready to address a conversation in this location.
She almost didn't survive it last time.