The doubt crawled below her skin, below her actions. She was amped up, with a clear escape swirling right in front of her, yet, there was no escape from her conscience. Her moral compass felt brutally battered, unamendable, all impending thoughts scrambling for the upper hand, battling one another to reign supreme. She caught a regretful insight to knight’s affair, locking eyes briefly. She felt the wind more keenly in hers; that tearless stage when they take on a sheen of water, a rising tension building behind them, an undeniable uncertainty winking through. Then she lept, knees bent and with a light thud.<br/><br/>The silhouetted dark shape of the rising moor appeared before her, rolling on for what seemed like miles, but in reality, the gap between the open field and the surrounding forest-lands and roads was barely existent. A touch of emerald light scathed the horizon in mesmerizing clusters, each donning their own unique variation of the hue. In the descending darkness, an unexpected scent reached her, of honey, heather, and gorse. The bushes seemed embroidered into the very landscape, their essence affluential and their varied colors blooming brightly. Under the smoky, bitter blue sky, something shifted and the entirety of the rolling hills was all of a sudden bathed in a whimsical silver. A glimpse of the cresting moon and of the stars seemed to lilt in and out of existence, shimmering. She was bewitched by it, intoxicated by the strange yearning that it brought her; with it came happiness of freedom, the romance of melancholy found within old classics, poems and music. Light, sedating, secure she felt for a moment. Then she pushed onward.<br/><br/>She picked up a steady pace, rivalling that of the murderous would-be associate. She continued her venting ramble, at first questioning Dolly,<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(184, 49, 47)">“How could you possibly know their intentions? I’ve had pleasant conversations with that man a multitude of times and he always treated me a gentleman’s grace. And you. Blaming someone else for the execution of your own actions? You dare not lecture me, you man-child,”</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(255, 255, 255)"> </span>though she had some childish ideas brewing herself.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(184, 49, 47)"> “Do you take a perverse pleasure in attaining positions of public trust and respect? You appear fragile on the street, but you’re obviously socially intelligent, deceiving and exploiting your everyday fellow man. You don't play by the same rule book as the rest of society and so you think you can win with ease. I had no intentions of getting you involved from the start, but… “</span><br/><br/>From a cavernous sleeve rolled another precious jewel, this one small, greenish, tightly compacted and jagged. The cruel machination tumbled to the ground in front of the man and sprang to life with a singular purpose. The gemstone shuddered, then splintered, billowing inwards, then outwards, condensing the soft soil into a crystalline bulk that would soon crust the man’s lower body if not adeptly avoided.<br/><br/>The noise reverberated, a grinding dryness churning beneath his feet as the dirt shifted and stiffened beneath him, forming large, magnificent formations, the grandeur of which was awe-inspiring. A crevice, a seal, it sprouted into a rosebud-like design, deep ruts ready to close around his legs, to submerge him waist deep with an unrelenting, flesh-twisting grip while the crystallization continued to spread and overtake nearby bushes; nature itself, a blank canvas for Elisa to exploit. It would be a not all-together comfortable experience, but relatively harmless regardless.<br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(184, 49, 47)">“… well, I say, if you’re able to commit the crime, you’re able to receive the judgement. No morals mean no restraints. There are hungry wolves with more control than you, but there’s one thing that separates you. Wolves don’t kill for sport, you filthy animal. He was cowering in his boots and you never even gave him a chance. You could just as easily have subdued or unarmed him!”</span><br/><br/>She turned to a backwards pitter-patter for a minute to observe the forming statuette behind her, to see how it played out. Then, she stumbled across the road, glared towards the effortless ballerina dance of the strange woman and continued forward.