Monarch of Administration
Taylor alt!power as the Bearer of the Curse.
Three girls were dragging a large lump of cloth through the Brockton Bay Docks, the smallest shivered and looked over her shoulder every few steps.
"Are you sure we will be able to take a boat out into the bay far enough without anyone knowing?"
Ah, she was nervous about a crime.
The largest, a young woman with a smoky voice replied with a forced certainty, "Shut up! If we need to jack it we will, and if we don't know how on that particular one? That's what the internet is for."
Hmm, seems more professional than the others, experienced.
The last, one that sounded absently haughty, finally looked away from their shared burden. "Did you guys hear that?"
It was a car, passing by with nothing of note.
"... Let's just get this done." Smoky has a forced calm
The trio of what could be called children continued on their mission, stealing a small rowboat and drifting deep into the bay.
"Alright, this should be far enough." Smoky again, the others were rather quiet for a while.
The three dragged the rolls of cloth to the edge, it was tied on either end and the middle to some weights.
"On 3. 1, 2, 3!" A small splash, but nothing loud. Nothing would disturb the scene.
The smallest let out an unheard whimper, staring at the deep abyss the body fell into and couldn't take her eyes away, even as they made it back to the docks.
Over the next week, until mid January by local calender, the smallest would return to the docks at least once a day. Ignoring all danger to stare at the patch of water she knew should look darker than the rest.
In another world, in another time, a prospective monarch opened her eyes in a small copse.
