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She comes to that forest sometimes, what's left of it. Though she's not particularly studied in ley lines or corpse roads or whatever they're called, Aggie's still spent long enough time in a place between places, as a thing between being and not being. She's no magician, no dreamer, but Aggie can feel its pulse sometimes. There's a road that powers through Darrow and if she listens carefully, Aggie can hear it. Or she could. It's been quiet and weak for months now. Not dead, but emptied down to the bones.
Its heartbeat is stronger tonight, the moon heavy and red in the sky. There's a chill in the air that has nothing to with cold and Aggie swears that the forest is calling out, searching for its now-missing caretakers. Their house in the countryside is still a trek, but she needs to get out and see. What good is all her power otherwise?
What she sees isn't all that encouraging. Even for winter, the place where the forest should be feels particularly barren. There's no sense of magic, just cold, just absence. Aggie starts to wonder what she expected and turns to leave, only to stumble. She falls–swings–backward, dragged back by a rough length of rope that tightens around her neck. She can feel its weight, knows its short fall.
Witch. Devil. Hanged by the neck.
Frantic, Agatha scratches at the rope at her neck but like some living creature, it seems to only get tighter. Fear lights up her skin and crackles like lightning. All the power she's held back, that has threatened to break loose since that demon appeared, bursts forth and Agatha forgets how to be. The girl that she's become burns away and the Witch of Blithe Hollow, all rage, fear, and crackling energy comes forth.
The sky turns red and the witch screams.
Its heartbeat is stronger tonight, the moon heavy and red in the sky. There's a chill in the air that has nothing to with cold and Aggie swears that the forest is calling out, searching for its now-missing caretakers. Their house in the countryside is still a trek, but she needs to get out and see. What good is all her power otherwise?
What she sees isn't all that encouraging. Even for winter, the place where the forest should be feels particularly barren. There's no sense of magic, just cold, just absence. Aggie starts to wonder what she expected and turns to leave, only to stumble. She falls–swings–backward, dragged back by a rough length of rope that tightens around her neck. She can feel its weight, knows its short fall.
Witch. Devil. Hanged by the neck.
Frantic, Agatha scratches at the rope at her neck but like some living creature, it seems to only get tighter. Fear lights up her skin and crackles like lightning. All the power she's held back, that has threatened to break loose since that demon appeared, bursts forth and Agatha forgets how to be. The girl that she's become burns away and the Witch of Blithe Hollow, all rage, fear, and crackling energy comes forth.
The sky turns red and the witch screams.
