Chapter Six

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I'm thinking of dropping some of my character designs and maps and landscapes and weapon designs here but.... I might just put those in my art book. Besides, I think I'll wait a little longer to add all that in.

Media: Firewatch OST- Camp Approach. It's a cute game (ok maybe not cute, it's kind of dark but nothing like The Cat Lady or Downfall) and I love the OSTS.

The bitter lashes of cold kept hitting my face, making me bury my head deeper into the crimson hood of my thick cloak. I brushed a numb cheek, still appalled at fact that my fingers weren't reeking of the rancid odor of burning flesh, nor was the damaged skin peeling off. In fact, my fingers were the way they always were-- pale and markless, soft and smooth without callouses and pricks, the hands expected of a princess.

Princess lessons dictate that a princess has delicate hands presentable at every event and location.

Staring at my fingers-- completely shadowed in this darkness-- I couldn't believe that not even a day ago I was woke up in my warm chambers, yawning a reply to Amancio who had woken me up, camouflaged with the maids by wearing a black maid dress over a flowy white shirts.

Surprisingly, the good looking tanned man with an impish grin stretching across his face not portraying any discomfort for wearing such an outfit lower than his status was exactly what I needed before I went off on a journey over unknown lands.

I wonder if he was as blind as I was in all this now.

"Who was with you?" Hamilton suddenly asked, the grip on my wrist slightly loosening. His voice was caked in suspicion, as well as curiosity.

I tensed up. "What are you talking about?"

Hamilton pulled me to a stop. "There was a voice mingling with yours. That's why I walked towards you."

I bit my lip, not knowing how to respond. Somehow, revealing the guy seemed wrong and somewhat risky. My mind desperately pleaded, Don't mention him!

"You must be hearing things," I force out, my polished nails digging into my palm as I lied to my knight.

"I think not," he retorted, eyes searching mine-- for what? Truth? Because I'm pretty sure this pretty boy isn't harbouring any unknown supernatural abilities.

I huff out, "This place is twisted as is, if our differences in sight indicate anything. It could have been an illusion." I jerked away, pulling him along. "Let's find someone who needs us more than your imaginary girlfriend."

Besides if Hamilton knew about the mind reading psycho, he might aim for that guy instead of looking for his lost brother in arms.

"I don't have a girlfriend," he protested.

He grumbled a reply, before clearing his throat. "Other direction, milady. Unless you want to walk into the provocative looking tree?"

I would kill for his eyes.

👑👑👑

We set up camp in another frigid, dark area, that the great Sir Hamilton van Eyke claimed to be a mossy area under a rowan tree.

He had felt my icy fingers, his warm fingers making me jolt at the sudden contact. His frown deepened, concerned as to why I was turning into an ice block while he claimed it was a "warm summer night with a slight breeze guided by the messengers of the gods." Of all my knights, he was the most eloquently solemn one, weaving legends and epics with his words alone. The sad thing is, half the time he doesn't even realise it.

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