Bearclaw Valley some kind of nature, some kind of soul

make him scream. 

astara turned her livid gaze upon venamis, knowing this moment was his defining crucible. a smirk settled the edge of her lips - how she hoped he would fail in the eyes of his master, so their roles could be reversed. a flame of jealousy darted in her heart as she reviewed what had just transpired: how dare he be greeted first, when she was the one that had made all this come to light!

she was still as merrick leapt upon her, her gaze still focused on the boy and his captive. she hoped bitterly orochi's bared teeth might prove more than just empty threat -- like an animal fascinated by the glut of bloodletting, astara tensed under merrick's ministrations, waiting for the killing blow with baited vehemence.