[under the scent of mildew and woodsmoke, there are all the provocative tinges that come from a space with a long history of old magic. incense and faint decay, and the tang of unholy rites practiced for decades within these walls. it's a family tradition, after all; the languages in the books propping up the candles are older than Latin.
it's a space not meant for strangers.
the boy stands from his crouch, brazenly moving to place himself between the intruder and whatever is under the sheet. maybe he doesn't believe the trespasser's claim, because he only gestures more insistently--pointing at the door and shooing with his hands.]
no subject
it's a space not meant for strangers.
the boy stands from his crouch, brazenly moving to place himself between the intruder and whatever is under the sheet. maybe he doesn't believe the trespasser's claim, because he only gestures more insistently--pointing at the door and shooing with his hands.]