she doesn't remember waking up. inns were hard to come by in barovia, at least those that would take her, but oriana found that a helping hand and a willingness to do the most menial of tasks opened doors to her. by the time her back hit the mattress, her ears were ringing and her eyes threatening to close. she didn't remember making it out of bed. one moment she was asleep and the next she was standing underneath the perpetual twilight of this damn town.
for a moment, she thinks she's still dreaming. the fog rolls in lazy waves across the ground, thicker and denser than she's ever seen it. was she outside of the inn? she's never sleepwalked before. not as a child and not in all the times she stayed in the woods. it's only when gooseflesh breaks out on her bare arms that she realizes she's awake. sharp pain makes her look down, at her feet bare and covered in blood and dirt.
@divinesworn: " there is nothing to be afraid of. "
the familiar voice almost has her jumping out of her skin, whirling around to see where it came from. β like hell there isn't! β it's a knee-jerk reaction, fear mingling with indignation, with anger. instinctively she reaches behind her for the weapon that feels like an extension of her consciousness now. she had no rifle, no sword and no holy water. no protection from him or whatever surprises barovia had hiding in its fog. the fog that feels suffocating now, obscuring her vision. it should have been possible for her to see even in this dark, but her eyes make out nothing. not his figure and not his ravens.
β you expectin' me to play hide and seek with you or are you comin' out? β she yells into the darkness, ignoring the way the hairs on the back of her neck rise.
