Snippet #2759315

In the darker reaches of the wilds resided from the marshes, home to many a beast that would drag down its prey into the depths of the swamp. It was where some of the more clever monsters would thrive, hidden amidst the foliage and the water's depths, under the mud and muck. Equal to its horror, there was a symphony of animal song, perhaps more fiendish in its allure. However, offset by the sounds of the animals and insects was something peculiar, a soft lullaby of sorts, humming by a warped deep reverberating voice.

The beasts, regardless of size shrunk away from the source of the melody, giving a wide berth to its originator: a massive form who gradually emerges from under the muck, long black hair dragging out across the earth connected to an obscure monstrous body of gray, black, and white. A long maw held agape, an expansive grin of teeth, large enough to swallow whole even a horse, perhaps. What happened after its escape from the marsh, as with each step upon dry land, with sickening wet pops and cracks of bone and joint, the creature's form contorts wildly, its body compressed down with, until it was nearly the size of an average human.

The hums became softer, more beautiful, as the creature now stood to its feet... the creature, now appearing as a woman, excess hair reforming so she is draped in a black dress, both eyes gleaming, as she marched forward barefoot against the moss and grass. There was no doubt in any beast's mind, this woman was something formidable: the Sanguine Witch, Bellatroix. A long striped black-and-white barbed tail retracts its blade, and slowly slithers up her spine like a serpent, completing her transformation. It would be annoying to endure such a form, so crunched and... limited... but, it would be the only way she'd finesse her way to her destination, behind those wooded walls. Well, there was another, but it'd hardly be civilized.

There were... others, in the forest that garnered some attention from the flesh weaver, shifting her eyes slightly from the devices of man. Of particular, there was something distantly familiar, nearly nostalgic of a baser era. "Ah, perhaps finally there is an echo..? T'joy or t'pity?" she asked in a low voice, left to only the winds to answer. With a dismissive bat of the eyes, she smiled, and continued to hum her sweet, morose melody.