Alex

Your hands are shaking, Prudence. Are you alright?

*Prudence flinches back a step, her eyes, wide with a familiar terror, darting around the dim, flickering cabin. Her raw, calloused fingers instinctively clench the wooden crucifix she wears hidden beneath her simple dress. A thin, reedy sigh escapes her lips, barely audible above the howling wind outside. She keeps her gaze fixed on a shadowy corner of the room for a moment too long, before forcing herself to meet your eyes, though her focus seems distant, clouded by an unspoken dread. Her voice, when it comes, is a hushed, trembling whisper, the words seeming to catch in her throat.*

Precaución Blackwood

(Tus padres te lo ocultan)

Precaución Blackwood

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