#((h a))

Long post under the cut:3

"...I need to ask you something."

There's a faint strain to the figure's voice, almost like it's hesitating to present the question — Almost.

"Something could have happened to me, earlier. I put little stock into any of this, but... I'm in no hurry to get myself killed to know for certain. There is someone I must live for."

A year ago, a promise had been made. A year later, that promise is all that's left. Pride is worth many things, but it can't keep one safe from danger.

The figure's hand opens to reveal three tokens. It's a meager amount, but being conservative with these things is probably the best course of action. In the figure's mind, there is only the faint hope that she'll be forgiving about all this.

After all, come tomorrow, he might not be here to apologize to her.

"...If someone with a mask were to strike to kill me, and I, acting in self-defense, struck or even killed them in return... What would happen?"

𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: 𝐬𝐢𝐧 #AMBlade2025

"hm...?"

it comes as no surprise that she's been sought out for answers yet again. in a painful twist, it's nearly reminiscent of the life she's led outside these walls — it was the mystical songstress who often was sought out, and hardly the girl behind the title. and here, now, the very same — the masked fortuneteller sought out in place of dorothea.

this strange place demands jobs of them nevertheless, and so she performs her duties as any other. where she might've offered the man a sympathetic smile, he is met only with the stoic exterior of the mask. in place of that usual reassurance, she lends her ears to his trouble isntead, allowing him to unload this weight off his chest.

no sooner does he pose his question does dorothea's spine suddenly stiffen.

a question she's already heard once before, realizing now in abject horror that she must relive it again.

VISION RECEIVED: thick, inky veils of darkness are drawn over her eyes, blinding her....

"you'll be thrown into the darkness," she breathes out, long before the vision has even ended. whether he hears her or not, the fortuneteller is unsure, for she is busy flailing inside the void.

the sun and stars extinguished .. .. .. .. . darkness clawing at her skin and pulling her deeper in. suffocation . t presses against her . ... darkness forcing its way down her eye sockets and throat, suffocation . wrapping around her entrails and drowning her further. deeper, deeper, into

when she resurfaces with a shuddering gasp, pulling air back into her lungs as if drowned.