creepy little house in a creepy little place, little creepy town in a little creepy world, little creepy girl with her little creepy face, Noelle Ravenwood
In spite of all the festivities throughout the realm, there was a place in Mirinah where the bare shores would remain undanced upon. Icy waters stripped from the harsh rocks and murky blackened sand, exposing the ocean's floor for miles on end. It was quiet. All that could be heard by the pale woman wandering the area, was the whistling of the merciless wind and the repetitive slop of wet sand under her bare feet.
She was alone. She was cold. And she was elated.
It was a rare gem for Noelle Ravenwood to be left alone, especially with a task at hand. So often did she feel the watchful eye of her kin, parent or neighbour, checking her countenance for signs of fragility. This job should have been assigned to another witch, a healthier more expendable one. But alas, none were spare. Shae's duties amongst the True Successors had her called away and Daphne was practically unreachable. Her parents were busy with greater tasks, and all the remaining children of the Shambles were far too inexperienced to face such a task. Weak as she was, only Noelle had the capabilities for such a job.
And so here she was, strolling all the barren shores of Deathrock Wharf, relishing the silence and solitude. She loved being alone. Alone was bliss. Safe.
Despite her delight at the circumstance, her face was blank, almost unnaturally so. Reacting to nothing. Not the smears of filth coating the bottom of her black dress, nor the harsh spit of ocean water picked up by the wind and slapping against her ivory flesh. She remained unresponsive, walking at a steady continuous pace until suddenly she stopped. Freezing in place, she would drag her hollow gaze downward, adjusting her footing to expose the object upon which she had stepped on. She stared for a moment, before reaching down, delicate fingers grasping the metal band and plucking it out of the earth. As she straightened up, she would inspect it closely.
A gold ring. She would brush the remnants of sand from it with her thumb, exposing the red ruby embedded in it. A beautiful piece of jewellery, arguably prettier than anything in her collection. She brought it closer to her face, eyes narrowed as she inspected the etchings across its surface. Words but none she was able to recognise, a foreign language of some kind. After admiring it for several moments, the tiniest flicker of a smile would break out on her face - fading as swiftly as it came. She would take the ring and slide it along the fourth finger of her left hand, then with her sweet, melodic voice, she would utter a single word. A word lost in the roar of the windy night.