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 Ripples of Blaine


Iridescence of a Raven


Her hair, the deep, shifting colour of a raven’s wing, framed a face so pale her smile felt empty. 

Her eyes were a stormy, turbulent wash of turquoise and sea green, hinting at a flash of violet deep within their depths. 

Quiet sobs shook her body, leaving faint tear stains on her cheeks, and her voice was reduced to a mere whisper. 

Her skin was frail as tissue paper, delicate and blemished with the angry wheal marks of previous bindings on her hands, wrists, and feet. 

Her satin white dress, muddied and torn by thorns and stony ground, was now marked with soot and the dark stain of blood. 

As her fingers moved, she whispered silently to someone who clearly wasn't there. 

She was an iridescent raven, beautiful but broken, her very flight curtailed and trapped.


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