#morrigan.

— @morloveslili 🍷

"Are you gonna finish that? Thanks." This is how breakfast usually goes in their little shared home. Billie prepares the breakfast, she puts more on Morrigan's plate than his little fairy appetite is ever going to manage, and then she steals some for herself. Only easily measurable foods, though: a slice of bread, which she's already noted down in her notebook because she planned this all along. "Soo, spotted any talent yet? Or is everyone in the grave digging industry, like... dead?"

𝔱𝔴𝔬 𝔭𝔬𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔪𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔦𝔬𝔫 streak towards you, sundering your view of the dusk court's wildwood, and strike like flung arrows — one at the center of your forehead where your third eye blinks open, one at the center of your chest where your heart wrenches. as with all your nightmarish visions, you are transported elsewhere whether you like it or not, dragged and deposited onto foreign shores. you are a ghost, a suspended soul dangling above a scene unfolding. only this time, the red-eyed souls that haunt the cave below look through the trappings of their world and into you. they see you.

their wordless message echoes around you, wings of broken birds, crooked rills, death rattles —

// d a n g e r . . . danger! ... R U N .

you are panting when you wake, your heart thundering. wavering hands grip at your chest where fear spreads like an eldritch poison. ink pluming in a well. you feel broken apart, eyes all around you, whispers trailing into the recesses of your mind.

. . . there's no where to run.