Post by "Wren" on Mar 26, 2016 23:50:37 GMT -8
Wren stared in awe as the woman --for indeed it was a woman, elegant and refined with an obvious scar on her bare shoulder that affirmed it was the woman from yesterday-- appeared before her with a warning and... a gift. A title, a name. The Raven.
The goth girl frowned. Nope. Nuh-uh. She did not want any part in what those psychos who entered her school a few days back. It was already bad enough that she had an... ability that relied on touching people. The last thing she needed were more supernatural, impossible abilities that only seemed to draw more impossible things to her.
Before Wren could protest, the woman thanked her, and vanished.
Wren sat there on the floor of the kitchen, staring down at the necklace and the fading glow on her hands, disgruntled. Once again, she found herself drained, even as the curious tingle faded. Well, whatever 'gift' she'd been given, she was stuck with. And, what was more, she'd gained an enemy in the process; The Coyote. Something about that resonated within Wren, a niggling sense that there was something she should know about that. But the familiarity of the comparison was drowned out by the strangeness of the situation. There were so many unanswered questions, but... The Raven.. No. Lenore. That name seemed to fit, given the context of the poem. Lenore had given her a clue for where to look for those answers at least.
Honestly, she would be mad to even consider for a moment trying to find the thus far completely dangerous Gods. She couldn't go alone, and certainly not without seriously considering whether it was even worth her time.
...She and Delilah had a lot to talk about. And if she couldn't help her, she had a feeling she knew someone who could.
The goth girl frowned. Nope. Nuh-uh. She did not want any part in what those psychos who entered her school a few days back. It was already bad enough that she had an... ability that relied on touching people. The last thing she needed were more supernatural, impossible abilities that only seemed to draw more impossible things to her.
Before Wren could protest, the woman thanked her, and vanished.
Wren sat there on the floor of the kitchen, staring down at the necklace and the fading glow on her hands, disgruntled. Once again, she found herself drained, even as the curious tingle faded. Well, whatever 'gift' she'd been given, she was stuck with. And, what was more, she'd gained an enemy in the process; The Coyote. Something about that resonated within Wren, a niggling sense that there was something she should know about that. But the familiarity of the comparison was drowned out by the strangeness of the situation. There were so many unanswered questions, but... The Raven.. No. Lenore. That name seemed to fit, given the context of the poem. Lenore had given her a clue for where to look for those answers at least.
Honestly, she would be mad to even consider for a moment trying to find the thus far completely dangerous Gods. She couldn't go alone, and certainly not without seriously considering whether it was even worth her time.
...She and Delilah had a lot to talk about. And if she couldn't help her, she had a feeling she knew someone who could.
