A Welcome towards the Man with Unrecorded Stories (1)

       The grass blades danced to and fro to the melodic whispers of the wind. Atop the lofty hill the newcomer’s rugged and tattered cloak flew and danced wildly about akin to a kindling flame.

       A man stood just below a hooded figure, warily eyeing the figure to determine whether they are friend or foe.

       However, Amidst unsettling feeling growing inside of due to unknowing what has happened to him, He finally took the opportunity and looked at the newcomer with confusion in his voice.

He spoke,

Fear and anxiety washing into him.

“Where am I?”

—Silence.

        The figure neither gestured nor spoke.

He once more spoke,

“Who are you”

—Nothing.

       The figure shifted, it's hood that hung low moved to look at him, the darkness beyond from what he could inch of. 

       It was unsettling, it felt like he was being dissected bit by bit by bit. It was numbing but desperation grew harder as time passed.

He spoke one more time,

"Do you know—

Awashed by desperation and curiosity.

—Who I am?"

       The figure quivered slightly from the question that came from the man.

       They raised their left arm, a lone metallic finger protruded from the sleeve, seemingly writing something in the air. When words come about, lighting up around the hooded figure.

“Iyta Ghatrm Igrt, Vder Pitn, ¿Sert?”

—It wrote.

        Ebbing and Heaving, Squinted and Wide-eyed. The man paced trying to get a single clue as to what the letters mean. The man pondered heavily for a few minutes until suddenly—

        ——— The figure drew cold breath, the wind grew stronger as the sun reached its peak, and with a zealous gust of wind. The hood that once hung low, which once reached lower than that the figure’s chest, obscuring what is to be there, Unseen, flapped about and heer tumbled the person’s face.

        Out first came, a mop of a damp heer hue of long blackened soot white hair, Adorned, A Minm’olis, its claws reached down until the person’s chin, bleeding it.

       Peeking underneath of it was clean white, Skin of pure sheet white, not unlike of snow, awashed by blood stains. 

        Her face was accentuated by 2 incorporeal pearls, Former, a blind blank ashen colour with hints of blue. The latter, a deep blue— near black— like the depths of the sea.

      He was captivated by the sight before him, If not for suspicions, he would've thought she was a lady from nobility.

        The woman's eyes bore down on him, as he was entranced by the her—

—She spoke.

       “Heed me, Man of unrecorded stories, Doth thy be ought thinst queries? Shallen’t be thinst, thoust nor shallen it be Wholest thieses. Thou ought thou ponder deeper within thinst'elf, Man of unrecorded stories, Thou await thy apondered query from within thinst’elf.”

       Uncaring to the man, she covered her head with the hood once more and walked behind her.

       The man tried to chase but there was something blocking the way, incorporeal and invisible to the eye. All he can do was watch the woman's back grow smaller.

And all until one breath. There, where the woman once stood, vanished as if an it was all an illusion.