by Cailleach » Sun Mar 27, 2022 8:49 pm
The lights dance in the branches, all tiny representations of much more complicated patterns. All of these have been shaped, in one way or another, by contact with the world. With a mind that has left echoes of memories and thoughts within them, maybe even more. In a way she's surrounded by Death, a multitude of it, pouring in from countless worlds. Some shepherded by crows, other drifting all by their lonesome back down towards the source. Some are a little tarnished, faded and scratched up like something or someone had chewed on them but not any lesser for it. There are many ways to guide the dead, not all of them kind.
In a branch next to her, wood splinters out into a hand, first wooden and covered in bark on one side, then slowly turning to pale skin as more and more of the branch tears itself free and into a familiar, if much more emaciated shape. Cailleach sits hunched of, both hands and feet on the branch and seemingly unaware of Sam sitting not too far away (and probably a bit more normally) on a branch of her own.