terabient: Anime-styled profile pic that is kinda, sorta like me (raphael & amy: WHAT)
haven't written much this week, what with me getting back to normal hours at work, trying (and ultimately failing) to get in touch with a certain...friend with benefits, and taking care of my sister's dog for the weekend. (a dog terrified by fireworks of all kinds, unfortunately, which made for an interesting Saturday.)

but there is this - though it's a very rough draft.

Death: Transformation, unexpected change, illness, loss
Reverse: Stagnation, a narrow escape, cheating death

She woke with a start. For a moment, Amy did nothing but stare at the ceiling, her heart beating painfully against her ribs, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. She turned her head to the window. Moonlight filtered through the filmy curtains weakly, doing little to illuminate the darkness of her bedroom. Morning was still hours away.

Amy shuddered. The dream felt more real than this dark, lonely room; Raphael's cry still rang in her head. She slid out of bed and walked to the window, throwing the curtains aside. The moon was full and hung heavy in the midnight sky, the fields below bathed in silver. Out of habit, Amy scoured the road - it was empty, as she expected, but...

Darkly glistening splotches lay spattered across the dull cobblestones. Amy's gaze followed their erratic path to the door.

Amy felt her heart thud hard in her chest. Suddenly, she became aware of the sounds outside her room - doors opening and closing, loud voices asking questions that went unanswered, feet pattering on marble floors.

Amy rushed out into the hallway, heading towards the spiraling staircase that lead to the main foyer. The hour was late, but the household was bustling with activity. Maids and servants wandered through the halls, their eyes darting everywhere, their hands shaking.

One of the maids caught sight of Amy. She pulled the young girl aside.

"Miss, what are you doing up so late?" The maid's voice was sharp, her fingers uncomfortably tight around Amy's wrist. "You should go back to bed."

"No," Amy said. "He's come back home, hasn't he? I want to see..."

The maid's grip tightened. Amy bit back the cry that welled up in her throat. "Why do you keep me from him?" She looked around the hallway wildly, hoping someone might help, but the other servants stood silent. No one met her gaze.

"Let me go," Amy said, struggling to free herself. One of the other maidservants finally stepped in.

"Miss, it is true that your father has returned, but..." The woman paused, tongue flicking nervously at her lips. "It's just - we think it would be better if you waited until morning to greet him. He is - he's not..."

"You don't understand," Amy said coldly, breaking free at last. All she could think of was the dark trail of blood, glistening in the moonlight. "None of you understand."

She ran down the hallway. The servants reached out to stop her, but she pushed past them, ignoring their half-hearted calls to wait. She paused at the top of the stairwell, peeking over the banister to look down into the main hall, and gasped at the sight that greeted her.

Her father stood in the middle of the foyer, nearly doubled over in pain. His rich clothing was ragged and stained dark with blood. As Amy watched, Raphael took a lurching step forward, and his legs nearly gave out under him.

There were servants here, too, but none seemed able to act; they stared at their master blankly, rooted to where they stood. A brief flash of anger swept over Amy - why wouldn't they help him? What had robbed them of their senses? Amy hurried down the stairs, wanting only to take hold of Raphael, support his faltering steps, to take him somewhere safe, somewhere away from these useless gawkers.

"Papa," Amy said, her voice choked, "Papa, what's happened? You've been hurt..."

At the sound of her voice, Raphael raised his head. Amy fought back the cry that threatened to escape her. Raphael's face was deathly pale, the same white shade as bones bleached for days in the sun. Dark black circles hung under blue eyes that had sunk deep into their sockets.

His mouth opened, lips twisting into a hideous parody of a smile.

"Amy," he rasped, "I've come home..."

---

there is a bit more already finished, but it's somewhat disconnected at the moment. fwiw this is shaping up to be fairly long - possibly over 2,000 words, though i'll probably cut corners when the inevitable writer's block hits. :p
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