05-03-2008, 11:10 PM
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It was quiet these days, in a way that it had not been in the city of her childhood dreams and nightmares. Company was unusual but potent for its preciousness, and Halifax was like a whole new treasure chest to dive and dig through, while the ocean, always near and thick with salt, fish and siren songs to lure her into its depths. The fire-spit burn on her torso still stung when licked by that cold tongue, but the moderate pain was cleansing and reviving, and a twisted enforcement that she was just as immortal as she had believed herself to be three years prior. She had been in the belly of the beast and a long ways from anyone who might have helped her through, but she had made it just like the rest. And now, with the ash settled, she moved ahead. Down the street with a saddle bag stuffed with costumes and clothing, the dark little ballerina moved through shadowless, twilight streets. On soft, rhythmic feet and a hum broken by the squeaking handle of a small tin lantern, she was content in her own world, devoid of colours wrapped in a hush, cracked and crumbled by her gravitation back to her dockside home.  | ||