12-14-2016, 04:16 AM
The traveler was back on the Moors, standing on the flooded road, feet thoroughly soaked and lantern in hand. The mist swirled around him in thick sheets, glowing softly in the orange lamp-light.
The figure of a woman stood before him. She was skeletal and gray, emaciated, and dressed in a lace-trimmed nightgown. With one bony hand, she held an exquisitely painted porcelain mask over her face.
Her feet didn't quite touch the surface of the water, and she blurred at the edges, giving off little streamers of vapor. The fog flowing into and through her, their substance one and the same.
Kelly studied her, and she stared at him with a pair of black, empty holes.
"You, " she said, her quiet hiss now tinged with shock and surprise, "are a very troubled individual. Did you know your head is full of birds?"
"Are you talking about the harpy," the traveler asked, "or the penguins?"
"Both. And also the parrot."
Kelly set his mouth in a thin, flat line. "I noticed. So are we done here?"
The phantom shifted her lack-of-weight, her night-gown rippling in an unseen breeze. "Yes," she said. "Lost within the chaos of your mind, I was able to snatch glimpses of the dreams you hide. They are grand, but also terrible in their way."
She adjusted her grip on her mask, revealing just a glimpse of a mummified cheek, and continued.
"You are not a kind man. But I believe that you try very hard to be a good one. You are free to go."
The travel bowed his head in acknowledgement. "Thank you. I can't say its been a pleasure, exactly. But I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for."
The masked revenant shook her head. "I will not," she said, certain. "That is not how this works. Now go. You have hours yet before dawn, and some distance yet to travel."
With that, she melted into the fog, dissolving from the edges inward and the toes on up, so that the mask was the last thing to go. As the stranger disappeared, the mist began to thin.
Kelly looked down, at the glinting object within the water. Now that the haze had abated somewhat, he could barely make out the gold-filigreed edge of a painted mask, half-buried in the mud.
There's a very sad story here. I'll have to ask around.
The traveler continued on his way, but as he left the small valley, he heard one last whisper.
"When you have restored your mind, and found your place, come to visit me again. I meet so few men of... quality."
Kelly suppressed a shudder.
When a slavering, blood-drenched werewolf jumped out of a haystack half a mile down the road, eyes rolling madly and the stench of carrion on its breath, it was almost a relief.
The figure of a woman stood before him. She was skeletal and gray, emaciated, and dressed in a lace-trimmed nightgown. With one bony hand, she held an exquisitely painted porcelain mask over her face.
Her feet didn't quite touch the surface of the water, and she blurred at the edges, giving off little streamers of vapor. The fog flowing into and through her, their substance one and the same.
Kelly studied her, and she stared at him with a pair of black, empty holes.
"You, " she said, her quiet hiss now tinged with shock and surprise, "are a very troubled individual. Did you know your head is full of birds?"
"Are you talking about the harpy," the traveler asked, "or the penguins?"
"Both. And also the parrot."
Kelly set his mouth in a thin, flat line. "I noticed. So are we done here?"
The phantom shifted her lack-of-weight, her night-gown rippling in an unseen breeze. "Yes," she said. "Lost within the chaos of your mind, I was able to snatch glimpses of the dreams you hide. They are grand, but also terrible in their way."
She adjusted her grip on her mask, revealing just a glimpse of a mummified cheek, and continued.
"You are not a kind man. But I believe that you try very hard to be a good one. You are free to go."
The travel bowed his head in acknowledgement. "Thank you. I can't say its been a pleasure, exactly. But I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for."
The masked revenant shook her head. "I will not," she said, certain. "That is not how this works. Now go. You have hours yet before dawn, and some distance yet to travel."
With that, she melted into the fog, dissolving from the edges inward and the toes on up, so that the mask was the last thing to go. As the stranger disappeared, the mist began to thin.
Kelly looked down, at the glinting object within the water. Now that the haze had abated somewhat, he could barely make out the gold-filigreed edge of a painted mask, half-buried in the mud.
There's a very sad story here. I'll have to ask around.
The traveler continued on his way, but as he left the small valley, he heard one last whisper.
"When you have restored your mind, and found your place, come to visit me again. I meet so few men of... quality."
Kelly suppressed a shudder.
When a slavering, blood-drenched werewolf jumped out of a haystack half a mile down the road, eyes rolling madly and the stench of carrion on its breath, it was almost a relief.