[M] [DND] Det er ei Fantekjerring;
#7
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<3
The creatures she speaks to and I reference are all imaginary
WC: 277


And with that, she relaxed. Quite so, this one could not harm her at all. Vesle knew she was small and frail-looking, but this one was clearly too old to be any threat. And she did perhaps have a deahtwish, since she did not care to defend her life. Vesle would not indulge her. As if an obstinate child, she refused to give in to any suggestion regarding her actions. Ask Vesle to do one thing, and she will do the opposite. How fortunate a day it was for this old woman that she had not told her to spare her life. In fact, there was something strangely appealing to the old woman's suggestion. Perhaps Vesle was a ghost. It was hard to tell for her, too, sometimes. When forests grew dim and fog crept in between the tree trunks, showering the world in thick moistness and air that was heavy to breathe, it could be difficult to see what was real and what was not. Although Vesle always knew that she was real, as were the cretatures who sometimes led her astray, or home, along foreign paths in foreign forests. Vesle never felt as naked as she did on an open field.


The gray lady giggled hoarsely at the old woman, as if attempting to confirm the question. "I never have had color, not since the beginning of my life. " Hers was the cursed color of her runaway father, none of the splendid arctic furs of her mother. No hint, even, remained in her. She could disappear into the fogs in an instant, so little color had she that she grew dim alongside the morning mists.




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