Cruden Tale (Awakening spin off) のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 1 - チャプター 10

The breeze lifted the layers of my lightweight tunic dress up in a swirling motion from my legging-clad thighs, twisting them in an uncomfortable way which irritated me. Always one to dress the part of ancient witch, with layers and jewellery surrounding my naturally slender frame and yet it can be inconvenient when travelling to different climates. I push them down in annoyed flicks, with my eyes closed and facing the sun, trying to remain focused. Listening intently to the sounds of my companion ravens in the nearby trees. The feathery friends are always a constant in my travels, my protection, my companions, but yet today something is notably different among their crony calls. Pulling me towards them with intrigue. A new voice among them stands out like a sore thumb to my trained and observant ear. A shrill, high-pitched chatter among the ramblings and insults of my birds.Jangling the bangles on my right arm I send out a gentle vibration across the ground and towards them

 By moonrise I’m back in my room at the Clairmont's quaint white picket fence house, drawing back the curtains as I unload my alter items from my wooden chest that I carry wherever I travel.  Just in time to ready for tonight and all I need to prepare, despite being weary from walking around all day. I have to do this every month when the moon comes full circle again and I feel like this time is long overdue.I move to cover the table by the window under the light of the moon with a black velvet cloth to absorb the rays. My carved wooden trinket box, engraved with a pentagram, filled with my healing stones and runes that have travelled with me for a lifetime are laid to the left. My crystal ball, more of a sentimental keepsake from a Roma witch I met some hundred years ago and holds a modicum of gypsy magic is laid to the right. A black candle and a white for balance, both steeped in rose water and oil before burning, are laid to the back, standing tal

December 2ndLeyanne’s journal It's been a few days since the moon ritual, and I figured out my purpose for being here all along. There is a hunter awakening somewhere in this state and I have been drawn here repeatedly through the decades in anticipation for him. I guess Khonsu wants me to intervene in some way and has been trying to guide me all along.  Not that I even know how to do that right now.I do not know what a single Hunter could do to the beings of our world, but my gut tells me that it's not good. For a creation five hundred years after the extinction of his kind I assume Ra the sun god has some major plans for this one and it wouldn't surprise me if he rewrites all the rules of what a Hunter is. I shouldn’t relax with expectation and my previous knowledge and expect something worse to prepare myself.We are so far from the origin of the Aztec's that I do not even know what I'm looking for

'How do we do that?' Cornel finally quips in, no hint of confusion on his face, suggesting he also knows what hunters are and it's then I notice the sway in his movements and his trembling hands, possible dizziness as he’s sat fire gazing quietly. Vampires have impeccably steady hands and almost steel postures normally; this one is fading fast and not in a good condition.'When did you last feed on human blood?' I ignore his question with one of my own. “Don’t you have your tribute travel with you?” I frown at him, unsure why an ancestral would leave home without their gifted human that meets their feeding needs. It’s unheard of not to have access to human blood regularly. Tributes dedicate their life to serving Vampiric masters treating it as  a great honour.Cora flashes a look at Cornel in minor surprise and a fleeting look of concern once more graces her face. A hint of guilt and a high blush forming on her cheekbones which sugges

 The darkness in my head clears away to a sunny cloudless blue sky, as though I’m lying down and gazing up into the warmest of tropical summer days. I can make out tall grasses on either side of my line of sight, the type from wild meadows. Luscious and thick, greens and earthy tones mixed pleasingly, scattered with tiny pastel flowers, and savour the baking sun on my face. Voices in the distance are calling and yelling, hard to fathom as it’s so far so they are gentle murmurs in the air and not really coherent.Sitting up in my mind's eye I face towards a group of men and young women across the field playing ball, they are playing a radio on low and drinking beer, surrounded by forests as a back drop to this entire scene as though we are encircled by it at a distance. They have a blanket and picnic hamper set further aback and see like they have bene here for a while. Oblivious to my presence as I am viewing someone else’s memory.It&rsq