#witch familiar

Date: The Night of the Pale Ripples

A clear night's sky reveals a yellow eyes in the reeds. He was there again, among the obsidian mud, a crescent moon floating on deep, black waters. To the rest, he is a monster: a ghost with scales, a predator carved from glimmering pearls with bone white jaws that devoured it's prey whole...

While his kin are the color of shadows and wet earth, he is a pale skeleton. Surviving without the camouflage of the murk with stubborn prowess.

I spent the afternoon preparing a treat for him: Basilisk hearts dripping in mole. As I sit on the edge of the bank, a low hum resonating throughout my body, he rests his heavy, pale chin right on the hem of my skirt. His scales are wet marble under my touch, scratching the soft spot behind his jaw.

The villagers think I'm lonely out here, but I keep dangerous company.

Él es el toque de corazón del pantano, y yo solo una observadora a su merced.

Caimán: Nap-mode activated