Information

Gothica
Legacy Name: Gothica

The

Bloodred Yaherra
Owner:

poppy

Age: 6 years, 8 months, 3 days

Born: August 15th, 2017

Adopted: 6 years, 8 months, 3 days ago

Adopted: August 15th, 2017

Statistics

Level: 1
Strength: 10
Defense: 10
Speed: 10
Health: 13
HP: 13/13
Intelligence: 0
Books Read: 0
Food Eaten: 0
Job: Unemployed

This story contains sensitive content, do not read further if you are easily disturbed,

A long, languid sigh escaped from her perfectly red painted lips as the world in front of her eyes began to become hazy. Everything slowly became louder as her head drooped back against the high-backed Victorian chair, glancing at her still steaming tea cup out of the corner of her eye, bittersweet floral aromas wafting toward her with the help of the ceiling fan.

Her extremities began to tingle and she flexed her pale hands, biting her lower lip. The concoction she brewed was taking its sweet time, she noted. But every single sensation she was feeling was familiar, from the blankness of her mind, to the dead weight of her legs. Now came the hallucinations - whorls of black, red, cyan, and green danced in front of her eyes as she tried to focus on every fleeting movement of her hallucinatory state.

She would have smiled if she could feel her face.

As the poisons seeped deeper into her body and mind, she felt the slow of her heart, the color giving away to edged darkness with a bright, blinding white. She couldn't squint, she could only stare head on as the light became brighter, and her heartbeat slower. Once it passed over, her heart stopped and her eyes closed.

Another familiar sensation formed around her as she opened her eyes again, and another familiar sight filled her vision. A grey river, expanded far and wide in any direction you face, and a grey sky above her. There is no shore, there are no others. There is only calm here, an awakening. She could feel her soul blooming where her heart would have been beating. She ran her fingers lightly in the water as she looked down at the surface, there were also no reflections here.

Here at The River.

She began to wander, blindly, aimlessly. She knew she would find nothing but bland familiarity, but her soul cried at her. Her soul pleaded with her. Her soul distorting within her. Her soul screaming at her. Her soul raging within her. Her soul about to burst forth, fr-

Her eyes snapped open and they darted around. Colorful familiarity this time. Her home. The slow ticking of her grandfather clock then its chimes of midnight, her tea having gone long cold beside her, losing it's potency. She didn't even need to check how long she had been dead this time. Her internal clock knew perfectly, and it was a new record - five hours.

Softly, growling, she swore.

She was so close.

This weekend for sure, she will find out what is at the end, why her heart aches, her soul cries, her bones wither.

What she will become.