Why not just suck her thumb while she was at it?) in her direction.Īnd that might have been it, for the evening at least, and she might have forgotten about it all together, if not for the fact that, as she lay on her bunk above Meg, teetering wearily on the edge of consciousness, overlooking the churning black waters of the dream sea, she felt something brush against her leg. but that was a silly and childish theory, wasn't it? Imagine her, at her age and social rank, believing in such nonsense. Then it came back around, moving ( strange, she thought, abandoning the bandage in favor of the thin, faded blanket which suddenly seemed much too low on her body, which felt terribly exposed, having shed the armor of her heavy, striped dress in favor of her ever shrinking nightgown like it's looking for something. Sprawling across the floors, splashed across the walls. She'd been lying on her bunk above Meg, listening to the snores and whispers of her fellow prisoners, picking at the fraying end of the ratty bandage wrapped around her thigh.
A shadow much darker than the others, large and softly formed, weaving through the stains and splinters, floating slowly along the dormitory wall. Until she saw it again, bleeding from the wood and paint, drifting slowly along the dormitory wall. Just a shadow, she thought, and brushed it off. The first time she saw it, she was distracted Meg was saying - well, what did that matter, anyway? Meg was always saying something - and Olivia was crying, and Nicholas and Xavier were (loudly) locked in battle with their ancient enemy, the wicked Bucket Knight who served the dreaded Cleaning Witch, waging war on cleanliness itself, and she wasn't entirely convinced that she'd seen anything at all.
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