10-14-2020, 04:09 PM
I spent a lot of nights on the run
And I think oh, I'm lost and can't be found
And I think oh, I'm lost and can't be found
Her ghosts hum and sing. A daughter of Atrox, the tigress says, as if there is no question. The name does not feel familiar, but the ghosts delight in it.
Father, they say, your father.
She has never wondered about him. Or her mother, really. She had not come looking for him, but she does not shirk the tigress’s invitation either.
She pushes herself to her feet and moves closer, hesitant. It is not fear that slows her gait but something else. A certain aversion to the company of other living things, perhaps. But the ghosts chatter quietly in her ear as she shakes her dark head and summons up a smile.
“I don’t know Atrox,” she confesses, the name clumsy on her tongue. Cumbersome.
And yet, the tigress extends an even more meaningful invitation. An invitation to join their ranks and she smiles, flashing her sharp, feline teeth. Her heart spasms in her chest and the expression brightens considerably.
“Really?” she asks, as if the tigress had been teasing, playing some cruel joke on the panther. Her ghosts nudge her then, as if to remind her, to teach her, to guide her. “Oh, my name is Advent,” she tells the tigress. “And thank you.”
The first place she has ever been accepted without question, she realizes, and there is some strange giddiness trapped in her throat as she studies the tigress.
Father, they say, your father.
She has never wondered about him. Or her mother, really. She had not come looking for him, but she does not shirk the tigress’s invitation either.
She pushes herself to her feet and moves closer, hesitant. It is not fear that slows her gait but something else. A certain aversion to the company of other living things, perhaps. But the ghosts chatter quietly in her ear as she shakes her dark head and summons up a smile.
“I don’t know Atrox,” she confesses, the name clumsy on her tongue. Cumbersome.
And yet, the tigress extends an even more meaningful invitation. An invitation to join their ranks and she smiles, flashing her sharp, feline teeth. Her heart spasms in her chest and the expression brightens considerably.
“Really?” she asks, as if the tigress had been teasing, playing some cruel joke on the panther. Her ghosts nudge her then, as if to remind her, to teach her, to guide her. “Oh, my name is Advent,” she tells the tigress. “And thank you.”
The first place she has ever been accepted without question, she realizes, and there is some strange giddiness trapped in her throat as she studies the tigress.
advent
@[breach]