Poor Unfortunate Soul

[Slayy 816]

[!] Breaking through the doors of the Solaira Manor, an angry grey-skin witch stormed through the parlor, soaring towards the stairs.

 

Svette shot through the empty house, her mind racing and breath frantic.  She’d yet to start wailing, but it was becoming harder and harder to see-- was her vision being clouded, or was it just her imagination?  No, she wasn’t going to cry.  This was her new life.  She had to face it head-on.

 As soon as she arrived at the stairs, she at last surrendered her mind to thoughts of the last hour..  Squeezing her eyes shut, she could only stand idly as thoughts flooded her mind of tearing into the man’s flesh. Her body shuttered, her hands soon falling to her stomach as she clenched it with all her might. Her knees crumbled just in front of the doors to her room. Finally, she began to wail.

 

“What have I become?!”

 

Her eyes filled with tears, draining her mascara down her face. Gathering strength, Svette scrambled herself into her dark room, scanning the space. She stumbled to her vanity, eyeing herself in the mirror. Though the fair skinned, snow haired witch was beautiful by most standards, all she could see was a monster’s face staring back at her. Gripping her fist around the golden Orenian brush before her, she flung the brush towards the mirror, shattering it into shards in a quick fit of anger.

 

[Thank you to whoever made this!]

 

Svette raised her hands to cover her face from the shards that were sent flying from the crash. Soon noticing her broken visage among the shards, she once more forfeit her composure, becoming little more than a scared woman, fallen to the ground and sobbing uncontrollably.

 

“I’ve been cursed.. I’ve been scarred! I’ve lost everything…. someone please.. Help me!”

She cried, her voice shaking from the sadness.

 

Her body fell, gracing the bear skinned rug that laid across the floor. Her hands clumped up the mat, gripping it as she laid there with trembling tears. Her jagged teeth bit down on her lower lip yet not hard enough to draw blood. Her body curled up, nearly instinctively, her knees pulled tightly against her chest.

 

Cries and whimpers could be heard from the room, echoing just a few feet beyond the door.

 

Minutes pass before the witch gathered herself up. Barely had a moment passed before her eyes fell on a painting, one of her former self. Her lips parted as a tremendous shriek tore through her throat. Soon her fist and nails clambered onto the painting’s paper, shredding it into bits.

 

Her fallen painting, now blowing in the wind from the window, was torn beyond repair, akin to the broken, monstrous woman she now was. Soon, her body began to stagger from side to side, holding the walls as she tried to reach her bed, but her vision once more went cloudy.  Was she now a slave to her curse?  How many more times would she find herself laughing, tearing open the flesh of an innocent man?  The most disturbing part was how amusing it was in the moment, as if she was tearing open a present rather than ripping apart the skin of another person.

 

Raising her hands to her brows and squeezing her eyes shut, Svette broke free from the cursed visions that haunted her, flopping onto the bed and landing just before the window.

 

She curled up, soon rocking herself back and forth with a gaze towards the waters beyond the Solaira Manor. Her sirenic voice began to shiver a song as her hands gripped the nautilus shell necklace,

 

“C-Can somebody save me… in this cruel cruel world...or will I always be that monster girl…”

 

Her hands cupped her face as she began to cry, snow beginning to accumulate around her.  Finally, she looked like the witch she was.

 

[Dorian, my main girl, edited this, lots of love to her!]

 

[grimmothy 188]

Illidar would step through the broken doors of the manor, pulling out a bottle from the pantry before casually asking the witch "So, you gonna clean this up, 'cause I sure as **** aint."

[gab 163]

Elle grumbles about having to clean up the messes of the manor as she'd do just that.

"Every gods-damned day, this happens."

[fighting evil by moonlight 455]

On the floor outside of her room, Svette would find a tea cup filled with red fluid laid carefully on a matching saucer.  

 

Next to the 'tea' laid a small square of paper, with only a small black heart drawn in the middle of it. 

[kingnothing 571]

18 hours ago, gab said:

Elle grumbles about having to clean up the messes of the manor as she'd do just that.

"Every gods-damned day, this happens."

3

 

Vivec scuttled after the woman to aid her in the cleaning process, idly commenting to her with a ****-eating grin sometime during.

"Glad you didn't become one of these folk? I'd bet." 

[Archipelego 2188]

A halfling somewhere mutters about 'God damn frosties.'