Description
Avestra. Right. That was her name. What else did she know? Well,.....trees, grass, dead leaves crunching under her flip flops, a branch poking her side. She didn't remeber anything, and the only reason she knew her name was,...it was scrawled on her bicep in ink. That HAD to be her name. What's the point of writing that random word on her right arm for nothing? She stood up from her slouched, drowsy position from the fallen, rotting log. Another thing emerged, throbbing in appearance in her mind. Enodia. She almost ignored it, assumming the thought being part of her strange amnesia. She visually pictured something of an angel. Long, flowing and unusually scarlet hair. Bleach-white wings, with long, wispy thin feathers, just the touch of gold at the tips. she almost ignored the thought, before she found a knife in her pocket, making a red stain on her jeans, the blood, not hers. Another proven fact, the hunched figure behind her, snarling, staring into the depths of her soul. One word popped up, lacing her mouth into it. "Phantominian".
To unknown
