Lake Lewisia #1221

[scrubjayspeaks]

The overnight donation drop-off bin had been filled to the gunwales by the time she got in that morning, the lid propped up by the bulging mounds of velvet covered in silver embroidery and splattered with droplets of candle wax. Usually, the donations made after hours were things people felt vaguely ashamed of--either ashamed to be giving them up, or ashamed to have them in the first place. Considering the wax and the singe marks, she suspected this was less a case of someone giving up their occult practices for good and more trying to hide the evidence of a badly botched summoning.

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LL#1221