Seaside Moors ii: the fang gang

i guess tundra's being psycho again

and she wondered, if after all of her snorts and eye rolls in regards to those that believed in gods and greater entities, did they perhaps indeed roam vast skies; restless and spiteful. for the nagging hiss in her ear had never let up and what lay before her now prompted it to loose a sound of wicked delight. 

'cursed' it would croon, tickling at the fringes of pinned ears that offered no barrier against its leer. not when the rippling breeze and dancing waters would offer their own lilting symphonies of that predatory word; cursed, cursed, cursed!

a ragged breath roves forth, twisting amongst the jostle of the breeze as tenebrous eyes cast haphazard glares at the monstrosity before her. 'don't..' it didn't reach pursed lips, muscles straining in the ever tightening clench of those ivory jaws. how foolish of her to believe in peace gracing her with its serene presence, to think for a heartbeat that a killer like her would not be haunted for the rest of her life. wrinkling her muzzle as the tang grows stronger with each waft the air tugs her way; the sea glints in the light as if flashing its teeth in a smirk whilst lapping greedily at the blood tainting its shores. 

there is ringing in the distance, a cry to listen and to realise that this is not her! she does not believe in signs, this is coincidence- of course, coincidence! she frowns, it is a shame that that toll is so distant...for how could this be clocked up to such a feat? perhaps if she simply wandered down to the abominable figure below and let it do as it wished then it would leave...her stain would not taint these wolves. a sigh shudders forth as a paw shifts to press to the ground before her. would it be so bad? if she is to leave a trail of destruction wherever she roams then why should she wish to continue such a thing? beat the gods at their own game by opting out entirely...there is nothing really to keep her here is there?

but that is a lie

rosencrantz is here, rowan has found his way home to her...

she snatches that, holds their names close. a growl rumbles forth; she deserves repose! she wants...brows crease as she continues to track the pained breaths circulating through the distant beast- she wants a future. she does. something sharpens in that look, the soldier writhing free from the dwam that had cast that killing cloud across her mind. she is sick of the bullshit life she's been granted so far; and she is NOT going to just roll over and take it. 

snaking forth, eyes darken with malice as she stops a healthy distance from the intrusion- if she must fight for a shot at normality then she would. but perhaps...she scans it warily....it might not come to that, could death already be singing sweet lullabies in its ear? she says nothing now, opting to crouch amongst the swaying grasses and observe.

but she will fight for the chance of life. she knows she will never lead a grand existence, wolves will never look back and remember her name; whisper tales of her greatness. but she means something to a select few and that, that has come to be more than she could ever have wished for and to tundra, was ultimately enough.  

in fact it was marvelous.