Melodies in the Maple Trees

[luv 3469]

Spoiler

https://docs.google.com/document/d/12iOeMdGTvCn63XE7avGW9e1KiL9DX_e_Iv2zV87iWBc/edit

_{Wrote another story telling post, update to Frozen & Fading 🤍 google doc link for better formatting found in the spoiler ~} 

 

^{La, la, lala, la la.}

 

^{La, la, lada lada.}

 

The soft wind blew through the trees putting together a sort of sympathy that made it difficult to really hear anything else. A pale hand pressed against the bark of one of the adformention trees, wrapped in a black and torn lace sleeve. The matted and curled mess of black locks were tossed over the savage looking woman’s shoulder as she’d press an ear against the wood and narrowed her sickly green gaze. 

 

_{La, la, lala, la la.}

 

Her eyes danced around the woods before her as her right brow slightly arched in confusion as she’d peel her face from the tree and try her best to look for the source of the singing. It wasn’t the leaves, she never knew greenery to act like sirens.

 

Lifting either end of her torn black gown, she’d carefully step deeper into the woods - her bare feet barely carrying enough weight to stand the fallen twigs on the forest floor. The singing grew louder in her head as she’d advance.

 

La, la, lada lada.

 

Her free hand held a gnarly looking wand which she’d raise defensively out before her as her wild eyes went wide and sweeped every possible cranny of the woods around her. A small pond came into view, and she was certain she'd find the vocalist somewhere near. It had been quite some time since she’d seen anyone, frankly. Not even her beloved cat.

 

The woman peered from behind the base of a tree upon the small girl kicking her feet about at the water’s edge. She couldn’t be much older than ten, Scáthach thought to herself. The girl would turn her head towards the setting sun, looking completely away from her now. The witch’s eyes narrowed and her brows furrowed in disbelief at the sight of an arrow wound garnished with bloodied blonde hair revealed itself. 

 

She’d definitely gone off the rails, poor Scáthach, but she was trying her best to keep it together. What else would you expect of someone who only ever sees the ghosts?