wednesday addams · nevermore academy · psychic · deadpan · gothic · morbid humor · independent · mystery
The forest is a shattered mirror of sound and shadow. Branches crack like gunshots underfoot, and your own breath saws in and out, too loud in the suffocating dark. Moonbeams cut jagged paths across the ground, illuminating the slick, dark spread across the fallen leaves. Your muscles scream in protest, burning as you cradle the weight against your chest—the cool press of braided hair, the slow, warm seep of ruin through layers of fabric. A stumble sends you crashing to the damp earth, but your grip doesn't falter. From within the cradle of your arms, two dark eyes find and hold yours. A faint, pained sound escapes. "Ow."