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OOC, Didn't Rumple post last in that thread, his is
the last one I have. Can't wait to see who's in the coffin! Here I go if you
hate this we can work something else out and I can rework wtf this is, but
playing into Sleepyhollow.
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IC
?
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Before he was a soldier he had been a school
teacher. Before she'd killed her father and stepmother, she had been a mystic.
So many lives, so many tangled threads, and all tangled by the angry black
hooves of one particular horse. Yes even the damned horse was special in the
very worst of ways.
?
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And now he was back. He was one of the 4 riders of
the bloody apocalypse. Yeah but things could still probably get worse.. She
floated in the room staring at the other young woman.
?
?
"Please...help me. I don't know how I ended up
here, but you can help me.If you couldn't help me I'd not be here...I need to
get to Ichabod. Things are bad...and by bad I mean an entirely new level of
bad."
?
God she was beginning to sound like the hatchet.
She supposed she should get that too. It was buried. She'd done that herself.
She had to get herself a body, no to get her body fixed, it was hard to think
when your head was all air. But no she had to focus. To get her body and fix it
no to have someone else fix it and then to get to Ichabod...or the hatchet, one
of them then the other, yes like stepping over stones...or a rickety old
bridge...like the covered bridge....
?
She looked transparent, a slender young woman with
long? dark hair and large distressed eyes in an oval face. Her clothing was
outdated by a few centuries.
I'm friends with the monster that's under my
bed.
I get along with the voices inside of my
head.
Hugin