Hag's Breath - The Sisters
'The Sisters. Hag's Breath: A Collection of Witchcraft and Wickedness.'
"Her dress is exquisite. A fitted velvet bodice adorned with a pattern of creeping ivy hugs her slender waist, lifts her delicate bosom. A skirt falls in pleats to her feet, gently brushing against her immaculate soft-skin boots; all in shades of grey to match her hair. The skirt would seem to human eyes to be made of satin, or something like it. It falls like satin, is cool to the touch like satin; it catches the eye, like satin.
It is not satin; nor is it merely a skirt..."
"She made an immaculate figure as she fell, her willowy form clothed in black from head to foot. A long brocade skirt fell to black velvet slippers. Her bodice, shaped and clinging to her slim body, was adorned with a pattern of hawthorn, embroidered in a shade of black that somehow seemed darker than the rest. Her sleeves were long, tight against her frail-looking arms, falling wide and gaping at her wrists.
Her hat was made of a satin- like fabric. It held fast to her head despite the rapid descent. Not an inch of her was ruffled or untidy."
"She is as tall and as slender as her sister Sussurata. Her navy hair is every bit as sleek and beautiful as her sister’s, her skin just as pale. Her eyes though, are as hard and as light as turquoise and her chosen shade of attire is midnight blue.
She wears her gorgeous garments as easily as she does her skin. They fall from her delicate frame in graceful, elegant drapes and curves. Her bodice bears a rambling rose pattern, though the roses themselves appear dead, hanging limp from their thorny stems, the deepest shade of blue upon her. Her skirt of plush velvet clings seductively to her hips, then flares in a most feminine fashion, falling to her feet and making her appear to glide as she walks. She goes barefoot, preferring to feel the grasses and rushes bend at her touch; the small creatures writhe and struggle at her weight, the cool, damp earth giving way to her.
Her cloak cascades from her shoulders, a satin-like fabric that seems to hiss and whisper at even the slightest motion. Should she turn suddenly, the cloak appears to whoosh in response, as if it were a living thing, remarking upon her actions in its subtle tone. It is from this mysterious garment that she derives her name: Sibilanta."
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