#witches walk

This cold, this all consuming, entrapping cold, has been making her teeth itch. When Daniella first made mention of it, it hadn't occurred to her, but as the days turned around, into weeks first, and now into months, it lingers in her mind.

The sun rises and sets.

The day comes and goes.

She wonders, had she one then, if a clock might have kept time all the same.

Curious questions in need of answers she cannot find nor give.

And so - drudgery.

Having ensured the life of her little deathroot seedling in the sands below, Briar skulks up the stairwell that takes one from the quiet sand below the boardwalk up to the row of businesses. Not every shop or cookhouse on the wharf is open, some seem closed forever, but a few, they lay open, warm and inviting despite the icy cold of the frozen coasts.

She meanders inside one, if only that she may warm her hands before the trek homeward. "H'lo!" she says, before her gaze double-takes. "You're not the usual fellow, with his great big beard!"

The sign-off had been a little different the night preceding, and the night before that and the night before that. It'd stay that way too, until he popped up.

remember, everyone; the night is dark and full of terrors, and, another special message tonight; to my friendly co-c0nspirator, if you're listening. I need help. check your privates on the forum. you'll know when and where to find me then.

It's public here where she sits on a bench as the sun goes down, and there's a few handfuls of people mulling about, deep in wool sweaters and hoodies with their hands tucked away from the cold breeze coming in off the water. It's not exactly boardwalk weather, but the light and the late hours of a few of the boardwalk bars make her feel safe - she knows that safety's an illusion though, because all it takes is one moment, one second of letting down her guard for those oily fingers to slip into her brain and send terror and the unknown careening in her direction.

Uselessly, she stares at her phone; it'll be easier if she can get a number. She realizes she hasn't heard from him in a while either, and wonders, with a blooming worry on her face, if he's found what he's looking for out here, or if it's found him. A chill runs down her spine and she shoves her hands in her jacket pockets as the wind rips at her hood pulls it down like the sky's pulling down the sun and she lays eyes on an approaching figure, one who just... she doesn't know how, but it has to be him. A smile blooms and she quickly stands to get his attention.

Lovely rainy hike with the best company ♥️

”Wear something black.”