OOC: Tags to
@Mephistel !
She was in a world of cold and wet when she awoke, confining her, pinning her down. She found it impossible to breath, as if she were suffocating but when she twisted in the murky waters, she felt the heavy restricting vines looped around her limbs, keeping her down, keeping her within the choking black waters. Struggling, she realized it was not water, but a slick ooze that reeked of decay, and the froth and itchiness of something else.
The more she struggled in this muck she found that the vines grew tighter, angrier and she could feel them, hear them; as if they were laughing at her, or scolding her, or perhaps, both? It was hard to say what they wanted, or why the world felt so heavy upon her. When she tried to open her eyes, the murky, foamed sludge of the bog stung, making it even harder to see. And when she called out for help, the swampy waters flooded into her mouth.
To her insides, to her out, her body writhed sharply. It was only at her second cry did the vines begin to yield, something else coming into play, something
there, but not quite. Something other worldly. Something insane. And then it beat again, whatever sensation that was before, sending out a signal that spooked off the crows hanging around in the skeletal trees that jutted out from the bog like thorns, and made the weeping willow branches shudder. Even a nearby coyote's tail drooped as he rushed off into the brush.
The world that once sought to bind her was loosening it's grip, but only doing so with one strong beat of this unseen power at a time until finally, she felt one of the pieces snap and her limb was free, and her small hand was groping through the swampy waters, pawing at whatever she could. And then finding herself desperately pulling and yanking at the other threads that held her back, until one leg's confines broke away, and she was twisting. And then the other broke free and she was kicking to the surface, just as her finger nails tore into the vines about her other wrist, and in one final calling plea from within, the vines finally conceded and the young girl broke away, resurfacing to the world with red hair suctioned to her body in a rippling mess of muddy curls. ANd the rest of her was slicked brown as well, the mud from the bog coating her well as she broke out from the swampy lands and gasped for air, and found herself surprised when a series of insects choked out from her throat.
There was an eerieness to those black bugs she didn't like that sent a chill through her as she shivered and watched them escape into the yellow skies of the setting sun. And she shivered again, sitting there amongst the bog, cold, frightened, naked and only the cold mud to clothe her.
