wahmbulance Warning!! wahmbulance
this is NOT going to be a 'nice' RP.
this is NOT going to be a 'nice' RP.

It was like an oddly comforting blanket in the silence. These dead voices of old fears.
As smooth as flowing magma her thoughts wondered. Family. Interesting. Father. Mother. Brothers. Sister. Nieces. Nephews. All so very different. All causing suffering and death in their own way. Yet it did not seem odd to her how close they all were. Close... each would fight for the others. Revenge them.
Again her mind was drifting. Perhaps a side effect from being so close to the spectral thoughts of the dead and their flightiness. The dead that lingered, unable or unwilling to go on to the next life. Spirits there that still she could hear when the moments were right or she wanted to hear them. Those here though, Astarte could tune them out if she so desired but why? It was like company when she had no desire for flesh company. Alone, but never alone. The voices, the touches, the caresses of the dead.
And where the underwater volcanoes stirred beneath the ocean's crust there were plenty of those caught by the last eruption. Such a pretty thing... their cries.