Fiona is pulling a tray of muffins from her oven when the ground begins to shake. Her jars of spices, flours and other various ingredients begin to dance precariously on their shelves, and the lavender woman haphazardly sets the tray upon the stove before reaching up to hold them steady, praying that none should fall and break. After a time, it seems to lessen.
Perhaps it has stopped completely, but it is her dread rattling through her bones instead.
She rushes out of her house, throwing open the door, and enters a street filled with bodies. Only they are not going anywhere. They are standing there, staring up at the sky with looks of panic and shock and awe. Fiona feels her own panic rising up inside her, a feeling she is too familiar with, especially once she sees the heavy black cloud quickly covering the sky.
The breath in her lungs becomes short, her sides heaving in and out as her eyes widen into unbelieving pools of lilac. All she sees is the smoke pouring out of the cracks and crevices of her childhood home. She doesn’t hear the frantic shouts and alarmed whispers of the equines surrounding her, only the crackle and pop of fire engulfing everything, nipping at her heels. Threatening to engulf her, too.
She is as frozen in her own memories as all else are frozen in their apprehension, and all she can think is no, no, no. Over and over again she repeats it like a mantra. Like she is begging, pleading, all that is not to bring destruction upon them again. Fiona wants to scream, ‘please, stop! no!’, but she knows it will do nothing.
There are tears in her eyes, but she is too shocked to feel them slipping down her cheeks like prayers and fears.
Perhaps it has stopped completely, but it is her dread rattling through her bones instead.
She rushes out of her house, throwing open the door, and enters a street filled with bodies. Only they are not going anywhere. They are standing there, staring up at the sky with looks of panic and shock and awe. Fiona feels her own panic rising up inside her, a feeling she is too familiar with, especially once she sees the heavy black cloud quickly covering the sky.
The breath in her lungs becomes short, her sides heaving in and out as her eyes widen into unbelieving pools of lilac. All she sees is the smoke pouring out of the cracks and crevices of her childhood home. She doesn’t hear the frantic shouts and alarmed whispers of the equines surrounding her, only the crackle and pop of fire engulfing everything, nipping at her heels. Threatening to engulf her, too.
She is as frozen in her own memories as all else are frozen in their apprehension, and all she can think is no, no, no. Over and over again she repeats it like a mantra. Like she is begging, pleading, all that is not to bring destruction upon them again. Fiona wants to scream, ‘please, stop! no!’, but she knows it will do nothing.
There are tears in her eyes, but she is too shocked to feel them slipping down her cheeks like prayers and fears.
***STAFF EDIT
@fiona has rolled a 5! She has been awarded +100 signos
