A/N: Yay! I did update sooner than last time!
Thank you VidiaPhoenix, LunaEtSidera, Guest, sleezygazelle11, Scarlett Virgo, and Wounded Wing for reviewing last chapter! You guys are great! ^_^
::XIV::
abyss
Water surrounded her from all sides; water above her, water beside her, and water below. She floated in it, she breathed it. It filled her nostrils, her lungs, like thick and congealed air that made her gasps slow and painful. Its currents murmured in her ears, pushed against her exposed skin, twisted and splayed out her hair like seaweed.
Dexné looked down into the black bottomless pit of the ocean. There, the tentacle-like arms of a colossal squid stretched down, down, down. So far down that she could not see the ends of them. But she could feel them.
Yes, she could feel them as if they were her own arms and legs.
This world, this ocean, had the same transformative powers as the Pride Lands. Above her waist, Dexné was as humanoid as she'd always been. Below, however, was encased in black. A black skirt of flesh that spanned out into the arms touching the abyss.
A storm raged above the surface.
The ship they'd been waiting for passed overhead, bobbing to and fro in the angry waves.
The Dusks swished around her like schools of fish. They were ready.
Her human arms clutched to her naked chest, Dexné rose the black arms up from the dark below. Up, up ,up, until they crested the giant waves.
She grabbed the ship, and held on with all her might.
The Dusks swarmed, leaping out of the water and onto the ship's deck. More Dusks waited below for the crates and sacks of supplies the others dropped overboard, grabbing things up and whisking them away through Dark Corridors.
Meanwhile the sailors dealt with Dexné.
Sharp stabs of pain erupted from various spots on her black arms. Stabbing, cutting; harpoons and sabers. The pain made her human half shiver and contort, and the monster lower half writhed in violent spasms, slamming around on deck, hitting masts, splintering wood, knocking canons, men, and even Dusks over.
One sailor splashed down, sinking deep due to the force of his descent. He floated in front of Dexné, his buoyant body starting to ascend, when he uncurled and beheld the sight of her.
His blue eyes widened in utter disbelief. Dexné stared back, her eyes dull and, strangely, almost sad. Her human arms curled at her chest, sparing her modesty.
Then the sailor's eyes traveled down, down to the black flesh encasing below her abdomen, to the tentacle arms that arched up from the abyss and trapped his ship.
Air burst out of his mouth in a plume of bubbles, his scream carrying echoingly through the whirling water. He scrambled back to the surface like a dog trying to climb a tree.
Dexné lost sight of him among the waves, though one of her monster arms snaked off the ship, reached out blindly to find him, to take him back to the deck.
The stabbing of harpoons quickly made her forget him. Her blood was coloring the blue ocean red.
She swallowed her screams. The men above did not; theirs blended with the thunder, lost among the bright flashing explosions and screeching wind.
The Dusks were zipping back and forth, Dark Corridors appearing and disappearing much like the lightning.
Through the flashes, through the tangle of her arms, Dexné saw a shimmer of red.
Her black eyes locked onto that color, drawing it in.
Then she heard a voice.
"Ar—iel! Ariel, no, stop!"
"We have to stop this, Sebastian—those men are going to die!"
A girl with long red hair weaved through the vine-horde of black arms. Her lower half glimmered with pale green scales, and a fin flapped in the place of feet.
Dexné's chest emitted a sinking feeling. That wasn't the right shade of red.
The mermaid knocked into one of Dexné's monster arms. "Stop!" she shouted, reaching out to Dexné from the tentacle that blocked her. "You've got to stop this!"
Dexné stared at the girl, wide-eyed, before looking up to the ship. The water rumbled with a giant splash as the ship's main mast fell over.
The mermaid darted around the arms, coming for Dexné. "Stop!"
Dexné retracted an arm from the ship, encircled herself with it, wretched an embedded harpoon from the black flesh, face contorting in pain. She used her monster arm as a shield, the harpoon as a spear. "Hurry," she rasped to a Dusk that swirled by.
The Dusk whirled back to her. "Nearly done, my liege," it whispered its reply.
The little red-haired mermaid stopped before Dexné, fists clenched as if she intended to fight The Devouring Shadow with bare hands.
The water roared around them, their hair, red and dark ashen blonde, swirled in the swaying vortexes.
Dexné trained her eyes on red. Not my red, she thought. Not him.
"My liege!" A Dusk—the marked Dusk—darted to Dexné. "It is done."
All at once the black arms came crashing down into the sea, rocking giant waves, bringing downward a flurry of air bubbles.
It was in the flurry Dexné retreated, leaving the little mermaid to save what was left of the ship.
Her legs were covered in gashes and stab wounds, too many to count.
She drank elixir after elixir, injected more still.
The loss of blood almost claimed her.
But she woke; she woke to her white room and black sky.
She rolled from her side to her back. The marked Dusk at her bedside did not startle her like it should have. It was in the process of rewrapping her legs, the left one already having been done. It was now half-way through the right leg, its snake-like hands pausing the wrap at her knee. Its head turned to her slightly, as if asking permission to continue. When Dexné made no sound or movement of protest, it did.
"…Thank you." The words left Dexné automatically, and the Dusk seemed to startle at them. It nodded stiffly, like it was unsure how to respond, or if it should at all.
As it worked Dexné examined its markings though dull, hooded eyes. Strange markings, covering its wrists—blue. Blue like Isa's hair. And the marks circled the wrists in odd, uneven patterns, like fire, or like waves…
Dexné closed her eyes, her mind going back to the water. Sinking—that sinking feeling. What was it? It felt so familiar.
It felt like falling.
By evening Dexné was up and dressed. Her wounds were no more than memories now. Her body, however, still dragged with an unseen weight. How long had she slept? She didn't know. It must not have been long—she was so, so tired.
The evening saw her to the clock tower, the evening saw her to the sunset.
She watched them. She watched, but this time she did not listen. Exhausted, she became lost in thoughts, only vaguely aware of their movements and conversations, more aware of red hair and red sunsets.
Then something in her head screamed, and a bolt of panic shot through her. Dexné's body was the mare attempting to flee; her mind was the rider, harshly reining in. She strangled the gasp that tried to escape, remained quiet, even as she went rigid and twisted in pain.
She was leaning over the edge, being pulled down; her hands were clamped around someone's wrist, her nails sinking into their flesh.
They were falling.
She was falling.
"Didn't Isa tell you not to pounce up there, Lea?" Dexné advanced carefully towards the stone wall, reaching her arms out timidly to her reckless friend, almost as if she thought she'd startle the wall into bucking him off with fast advances.
"You and Isa worry too much," said Lea, standing high on the stone, face warmed by the setting sun, the breeze tickling through his red hair. For a moment Dexné was too mesmerized to reply.
"But…" She lowered her arms slowly, not wanting to, but doing so because she felt that's what Lea wanted.
They were waiting for Isa, who had gone to pick up their customary ice cream, and while they dawdled Lea had jumped up onto the thick ledge—thick enough that he could fit more than both feet side by side if he was so inclined. But that didn't stop Dexné's heart from speeding up, didn't stop her mind from thinking of the steep drop on the other side.
This wasn't the first time he'd done it. Apparently the ground wasn't exhilarating enough for Lea.
Just the other day he stepped up onto the ledges lining the great pooled fountains, Dexné and Isa on one side of him and a curtain of water and a moderate drop on the other.
"So Zane thought he could get away with spitting on my worksheet—" he said, trailing his fingers through the fall of water.
"Watch yourself, Lea. It's slippery," Isa warned.
"Don't be such a worry-wart." His strides remained confident.
Isa shrugged. "Suit yourself."
"Anyway, he thinks I'm gonna back down. Showed him how wrong he was—we both got detention. But it was worth it. And then on the way home I ran into that little mute kid…"
Lea didn't so much as stumble. He was fine.
At least, until he started showing off, possibly to annoy Isa.
One cartwheel too many sealed his fate.
"Lea!" cried Dexné as his shoe squeaked over wet stone and he went crashing through the water curtain, falling with a splash at the bottom.
Dexné sped to the edge, leaning over, caring nothing of the water that drenched her head and weighed hair around her face.
Lea laid in the shallow pool, staring up. One quick grin was enough to tell her he was all right. When he came back up to them via the walkway Isa burst out laughing at his sodden appearance. His clothes stuck to him but his hair, even when shining with wet, still had a few rebellious tresses refusing to lie flat. He waved Isa off, saying, "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," and brushed away Dexné's concerned questions.
They continued on. At one point Lea ran his hand down Dexné's waterlogged hair, sending her a rueful smile. But then he kept his fingers tangled at the base of her neck, absent-mindedly it seemed, because he was looking at Isa, who was speaking, and did not note her quiver of surprise.
"What's taking him so long?" Lea wondered aloud, still standing on the stone wall much to Dexné's fretful chagrin. The drop from the fountain was one thing; the stone-paved plateau with its deadfall was another.
He wasn't doing cartwheels or anything else so foolish now, but…
The wind was picking up and Dexné couldn't figure what to do with her hands. She kept them half-raised, over her stomach, clasping and unclasping them, and she meant to keep her eyes on Lea but zoned out, mind going elsewhere because it was prone to wander. She hoped Isa hadn't run into any trouble. She shifted through various scenarios, her imagination spitting up worsening explanations. Was he assaulted—did he break his leg going down the stairs?
The wind screamed, yanking her out of her musing. The angry, freakish gust nearly knocked her forward, and she stumbled to catch herself. That was when it happened. Her brain hadn't even fully switch gears, but her body reacted. She lurched towards him, arms outstretched, hands grasping. She caught his wrist just as he went over, just before he disappeared from sight. The stone wall slammed into her gut, knocked the air out of her.
She did not scream, could not scream. Because her arms and their joints were doing all the screaming and she couldn't get any breath in and why were they still going down—!
Lea was shouting her name over the wind. She was slipping over the edge. Immediately she tried to hook herself using her legs, but it was no use, there were no footholds.
His weight was dragging her down with him.
"Let go, let go! We'll both fall—let go!" He was frantic.
"No," she rasped weakly, her entire body shaking in strain, her weak arms pulled uselessly straight. Slowly, she was sliding, further, further, until her hips were almost over, her strong thighs all that kept her and Lea from plunging to their deaths. She was quickly losing strength.
"- - - -!" He screamed her name. "Let me go! Let—Go!"
She was not willing. She would not let go.
She cried out, a human wail that needed no words to transmit its despair. The strength of her legs ran empty. Her hands were locked.
She was prepared to go down with him.
Something slammed into the back of her. Fingers like claws dug into her torso. And miraculously, in one powerful pull, they were saved.
The three collapsed onto the hard ground.
"Ten minutes," said Isa. "I'm gone for—ten—minutes and I come back to find you imbeciles—" The usually stoic boy sputtered with anger. "What were you doing?!"
"Trying not to die," Lea gasped out.
"And failing," Isa said sharply.
Dexné shook, shivers running marathons over her body from head to toe. She had not looked up from Lea's wrist, where her fingers clinched white and painful. Adrenaline roared uninhibited through fatigued limbs, fooling her into thinking there was still reason to hold fast, still reason to panic.
Lea's other hand gently covered hers. He murmured her name. Her tight grip jerked with her flinch, and Lea winced. Isa reached over and pried off her hold. She stared dumbly at the angry red crescents decorating Lea's wrist, watched the blood trickle uncomprehendingly. Her eyes lifted, and she took in the blanched faces of her friends. Her vision blurred.
Isa spoke to Lea. "You were up on the wall, weren't you? If I catch you up there again I'll beat you to a pulp."
Lea let out a harsh bark of laughter. "Don't worry, Isa. You won't have to. I'll beat myself up."
Dexné said nothing.
They didn't move for a long while. Then Isa stood to go gather the spilled contents of the store bag he dropped in his hurry. They ate their ice cream sitting there on the pavement.
They'd go back to eating on the wall eventually.
He must've forgotten that time.
Dexné watched in the present, poised as a cat ready to pounce, as Axel stood up on the clock tower's ledge.
There was an erratic beat in her chest, like a scared child wanting out of a locked closet. The strange sensation of something trying to crawl up from her stomach and out her throat accompanied it.
The sensations refused to ebb, even when he sat back down without incident.
Lea's fall had happened before Zane's assault on Dexné. She knew this because she distinctly remembered Zane had disappeared from school for a long time after. Rumors said he moved, others said he was in the hospital, some said he was in therapy. But all correlated that the police had been to his house.
Dexné could only hope that he'd been saved from his father.
School went on mundane as usual. But Dexné…she couldn't seem to pull herself out of a fog, constantly around her, blocking her mind from what was going on in the now.
Lea noticed. He nudged her, told her to smile. She tried. She wanted to please him. But in the end she couldn't bring herself to do it. The corners of her mouth weighed down with an invisible force that would not let up.
Everything became gray and white; colors leeched away from life. She slept a lot. Sometimes in class. Dreams of her real mother and father appeared in flashes, disappeared just as quick, leaving strange, muttering darkness that made Dexné wake in cold sweats, frightened.
The images of her parents in the dreams were always different; the mumbling darkness was always the same, with garbled voices, distorted, frantic. What were they saying? Dexné would ask herself as she stared down at a blank worksheet she was supposed to be completing. She could never make out the words—were they words at all? And why did they scare her so?
What…
…what were they saying?
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f̷̼̼̮͎̙̖͉̓̋́̂̈́̔̒̃̈́̕ͅa̴̯͙̟̰̠̖̥͆̀̋͝ļ̸͕̮̹͕͇͊̇̑̒̽͝ḻ̷̫̣̞͈̲͉̪̊̐͐͜͝s̸̬̹̮̦͛̾́͝
ᕨᘗ ᖱ …
She covered her ears, though the noise she tried to block was not from without.
It went on for days, and Lea would not stop bothering her about it. "What's wrong?" he would ask. "What's going on with you?"
She never answered him, because she did not know how.
Isa noticed too, and watched her with sharper eyes than usual, though he did not ask.
Dexné woke up in the middle of that night, shivering like she was freezing. But she was not cold. She did not feel hot or cold; she felt nothing, nothing but fear.
Fear because she could have sworn she heard a woman humming, sadly and softly.
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bₐby
It was not Mirron.
She did not sleep the rest of the night, and so when she was besieged in the hallway at school, she did nothing but blink in stupefied surprise.
It was not Lea, or Isa, who confronted her.
It was someone entirely new. Someone she did not know.
"You think you're so special, don't you?" sneered a tall girl with black hair tied high in a ponytail. Her purple eyes burned with an unfriendly fire, her arms crossed tightly over her lacking chest. "I heard what happened with Zane. Hiding behind your two boyfriends, letting them beat him up, while you stand there and act like some innocent little princess. I have an idea: why don't you fight your own battles?!"
Dexné slowly blinked tired, confused eyes.
The girl dusted off her purple and white striped tank top, like she had gotten dirty from Dexné's mere presence, before stomping off.
Dexné's eyes followed her, briefly wondering how she got away with wearing spaghetti straps and short-shorts in school, when not too long ago Dexné had been called out for wearing a slightly low-cut top.
Days later and Dexné heard rumors circulating about herself.
Certain groups of girls sneered and giggled as she passed them in the halls. Words and phrases reached her in splits. They said things like, "She likes it both ways," and "They take her at the same time," and "She likes being double-teamed." Things that did not make sense to Dexné.
When she asked Lea about it, he would not make eye contact. "It's nothing," he said. "Just ignore them; they're being stupid."
She still didn't understand.
She pressed the matter, and Lea became firmer. "Ignore it." It was a command now. "They'll get bored and move onto something else."
Dexné squirmed with her ignorance. What did they mean—why would Lea not tell her?
Isa wouldn't tell her either. He echoed Lea's commands.
But Dexné could not leave it be. She wanted to know. And so, she went to the library, got onto one of the computers, typed her questions in and…and…
Horrified tears sprang to her eyes. How—how could they say such things? How could they think such things? She wasn't a slut! She'd never even been kissed!
She cleared the search history, vision blurry with anger. She slammed out of the library doors, ran all the way home.
She ran into that black-haired girl the next day at school. "How does it feel?" the black-haired girl called out from the group of girls gathered around her like wolves to an alpha. "Does it hurt to take it from two guys?"
Dexné walked past the group, back straight, eyes locked ahead. She made like she never heard.
Just ignore them; they're being stupid. They'll get bored and move onto something else.
But they didn't. And it got the point that Dexné skipped school to avoid hearing it. Anger crept through her like thorned vines, latching on, digging in. It was one thing to drag her name through the mud, but they were dragging Lea's and Isa's along too.
And that was what she could no longer ignore.
In the hallway, she stalked the black-haired girl—Uné, she overheard her called—and waited until she was alone, away from her pack. She walked up behind her as she was shuffling through her locker. Dexné stood there, not even two feet away, completely undetected. You could smash her face into her locker, she thought distantly, curiously, like a dog wondering if it should bite something.
But she didn't. She waited until Uné turned around.
"What the h—what do you think you're doing?!" Uné snarled, nose wrinkled, teeth showed, but there was a nervous spark in her eyes, and she leaned backwards to put space between them.
Dexné stared blankly. She did not move, or speak. She was unsure what she was going to do, what she was supposed to do. But she stood her ground regardless.
"Well? Quit staring at me like that, freak! You wanna go? Then come on!"
Dexné remained in her pose, unaffected. It seemed to…have and odd effect on Uné. Nervousness clashed in her angry eyes. They stared each other down, alone in the deserted hall, the bell having rung long ago.
At last Dexné said, "I did not want them to hurt Zane. They chose to do that of their own free will."
Uné scoffed. "Like that makes it okay? Please, you didn't exactly try to stop them."
Dexné distinctly remembered being too busy bleeding from her face to chase after them.
"But you know what really gets me?" Uné continued, "You do it all the time. You hide behind your boyfriends—"
"They are my friends, nothing more," Dexné cut in sharply.
"Whatever. You hide behind them like some frilly little princess who can't do anything for herself. And that pisses me off!"
Dexné blinked slowly, considered her words. "And…how am I to fix that?"
Uné's brow came down. "Fix it? Uh, well, you could start by not being a wimp, how 'bout that?"
Black eyes flashed. I could hurt you, she thought. I could crush you.
Uné reacted to her expression with a smirk. "Tch. You're a faker, aren't you? You just act like a wimp so they'll take care of you."
"No."
"Really? Prove it." Purple eyes looked her up and down. "You know...I might be able to fix you. But first, you'll have to go through some tests."
Confusion pushed aside anger. "Tests…?"
"Sit with us at lunch, and we'll see."
Dexné wasn't sure what happened back then. She just remembered she stopped sitting with Lea and Isa, and sat with the enemy instead.
She started wearing the clothes Uné told her to wear, started following her with the other girls, the group. Curly was among them—the only face Dexné recognized. None of them really seemed to know each other, and it was as if they were all connected by one thing and one thing only: Uné. They adjusted everything to her lead. What to wear, how to act, what to say.
"I'll turn you into a wolf," Uné told Dexné. "Try to keep up, wimpy-girl."
Dexné didn't know why she let herself fall in with them. What was she trying to prove? She asked herself that more than once. Was she trying to act strong? Did she want to be a wolf?
Lea and Isa shot her confused glances. They questioned her, but she never gave clear answers.
Uné told her to stay away from them.
"If you wanna be tough, you gotta stand on your own two feet. Quit relying on them!"
"Okay…"
A wolf, a wolf she was going to be. Then…why did she feel more like a sheep with every passing day?
Lea's glances became angry, and Isa started not looking at her at all.
But, she told herself, she needed to be away from them for a while. Until the rumors died. Then she would sit with them again.
And then they stopped talking to her completely. Lea would send her a glare, occasionally, when they passed in the hallways, and nothing more.
Panic snaked around Dexné's chest, dinging a warning bell in her heart. What was she doing? What was she trying to prove?
A wolf, a wolf.
The voices in the dark abyss could not hurt a wolf.
...could they?
Uné made her go to the festival with the group.
More and more Dexné felt disenchanted with her new "friends." They paid her no mind; they did not speak to her or ask questions, or try to get to know her in anyway. They tolerated her, it seemed, because Uné told them to. Not even Curly interacted with her if she didn't have to.
What am I doing? she asked herself for the hundredth time as she walked behind the group, their glittering skirts and ripped shorts and sprayed hair distracting her, annoying her with their demands for attention. She couldn't bring herself to dress exactly like them; her skirts only ever got as short as her knees, and her tops had to be covered with shawls. I don't belong here.
She wondered if Lea and Isa were at the festival too.
The festival had no flare for Dexné. Everything was colorless: the bright streamers, the booths, the smiling people. None of it mattered. She zoned out, followed behind the girls blindly.
She did not pay attention until Uné called for her.
"My scarf!" she shrieked, as the lavender strip of fabric blew away in a gust. It floated up, up, fluttered, and then landed on a concrete arch high above the ground. "Come on!" she demanded of them, and they followed her, running up stairs and ramps until they all stood on a plaza where the concrete arch connected to. The draped scarf fluttered in the breeze, as if waving cheerfully to them.
"Agh! My grandmother made me that!" Uné turned to Dexné. "Okay. Time to prove yourself. Get my scarf."
What are you trying to prove, what are you trying to prove?
So high up. The people down below looked so small. The wind was colder, it raised goosebumps on her skin as it hissed through her dress. Carefully, so meticulously, she placed one foot in front of the other. Her eyes focused between her footing and the pretty lavender scarf that was caught in the middle, stuck in a crack in the concrete uniter.
The arch was meant to be decorative.
She should not have been up there.
But the female voices behind her pushed her on. They said encouraging phrases as they stood on the safety of solid ground. "You can do it," they said. "You're almost there!"
One doubtful voice, sounding like Curly, said, "This wasn't a good idea…"
There was fear in that voice…but it did not speak again. It spoke in past tense, as if it was too late.
Some of the people down below started to notice Dexné. A little boy with a balloon pointed up at her, and when his mother looked up, she screamed, "What are you doing! Are you crazy?!"
More people stopped. They stared, they shouted. Dexné's legs shook unsteadily for a moment, her focus fazed by the people. She had to stop.
Her eyes glued to the lavender scarf, almost hypnotized by it. Her mind chanted, one foot, other foot, one foot…
She was almost there.
Then she heard her name, carried high by the wind. Was that Lea's voice? She blinked rapidly, but did not break from the lavender daze. The trance was perhaps the only thing keeping her from panicking. All she wanted to do was get the scarf. It belonged to Uné—was important to her. Her grandmother gave it to her. Dexné had only wanted…to help? To impress? Both? She couldn't remember.
The scarf was right before her. She would have to scoop to get it, and then finish crossing the uniter to the other plaza—there was no way she could safely turn around.
She felt the silky fabric in her fingers.
Then she felt the wind.
Felt it rush up as she rushed…down.
Down, down, down—nothing but air and howling wind between her and the pavement below.
Someone screamed her name—Lea—wild, feral, and afraid. It rose above all other screams.
She saw her dress fluttering wildly, like a butterfly trying to fly, trying to lift the iron weight it shrouded and failing. She saw her hair, the many strands blowing about like it was trying to find something, anything, to grab onto. Then she saw the scarf, flapping fluidly in her tight grasp.
She hit something—multiple things—on the way down. She vaguely realized it was the banners—the little steamers with the colorful flags on them, hung up for the festival. She tore through them like the claw of a demon.
Then…nothing.
She did not feel pain when she came to a violent and abrupt halt.
She saw…the sky. Just the happy blue sky. Then blackness descended, a curtain coming down.
"Open your eyes!" someone was screaming. "Open them!"
Through a haze she saw light—then red. Red hair blazing like a star, green eyes, clear and shining with…abject fear.
"Don't you dare close your eyes! You hear me?! Don't close your eyes!"
He was yelling, but his voice sounded muffled…maybe it was because she had water in her ears.
It's not water…
"Look at me! - - - -! – E – N –!"
Little red rivers spread out, branching on the stone, her name breaking through memory.
That's right… Present-time Dexné thought. She remembered. She had fallen…she had fallen from very high up.
So that was how it happened.
"Don't move! Just—just stay still!"
She remembered hitting the stone pavement, remembered seeing little red rivers trickle from her, spreading out on the stone like spider webs. And Lea…she remembered him kneeling down, the side of his face pressed to the ground so he could look into hers. His hand hovered by her cheek, thumb touching just below her eye, trembling.
And his eyes, so wide.
And his voice, so afraid.
Darkness entombed on her vision.
"– E – D – E!" He shouted her name, a name that wanted to break through the blackness. "Don't you dare close your eyes!"
Did you want me to die with my eyes open? she remembered thinking.
N – E –
D – E – E
My name.
My name…
What—What was—?
ᖶᗁᕠᖶ'ᔛ … ᗴᘘᓌᘴᘜᗁ …
ᑕᓋᙏᕨᔙ ... ᘴᘙᖱᓏᘘᕩ ...
ᘍᘙᖱ…
ᖴᗋᒫᒺᔜ …
ᖴᗗᒸᒪᔚ …
ᓬᘙᖱ …
ᙦᘘᕲ.
And the abyss came up to claim her.
A/N: And I gave myself carpal tunnel!
Reviews make it better...?
Thank you for reading!