August 07, 2021, 10:11 AM
praimfaya —
though she does not recognize it as her name, she looks towards the brindled stranger ( to her in the herenow ) — she has many names, the commanders of the past tell her but commander of death is the one that stands out the most to her; telling her more of who she was than any other sound put to her being. it is clearly spoken to garner her attention and though it does not please her the way that hearing wanheda would, she watches his approach without feeling.
aside from the physical aches and pains and the annoying grit of sand in her mouth; red sand that stains her fur like the dried blood that she has not bothered to wash from her. still, she has no idea how she has gotten this way. without any past knowledge to draw on — not even so much as a will-o-wisp hint to clue her in she is left with nothing but abysmal blankness. thus, she figures she belongs without anything else to guide her to any other conclusion.
frostbound gaze settles upon the jackrabbit betwixt his jaws; her stomach giving a pitiful roll in hunger. hunger that could so very easily toe the line between being disgust but only because the pain keeps her from feeling up-to-par with how she should feel.
though his smugness does not go beneath her notice, she is not sure what warrants it; their history erased from her memory for better or worse. he calls himself her 'grandmaster' — in conjunction with the mental affirmation that she was commander, this feels strange and does not sit well with her — but there was nothing to do but accept it.
she eyes the jackrabbit at his paws once more; salmon pink tongue darting out to drawl across her jowls as she hesitated between being truthful or remaining silent; or demanding answers. for the moment, she settles for silence at first, though she shuffles forward a bit, drawing herself closer to him though she desires to slink away from the sun and remain in the cool, projected shade of the cavern mouth.
she isn't sure if she should admit that she has no recollection from any point before waking up here; her instinctual, draconian nature snaking 'round her and holding her tight; and thinks of a way to ask questions that might be subtle enough to keep from admitting it right off the bat. at least until she gets a feel for this grandmaster.
though she does not recognize it as her name, she looks towards the brindled stranger ( to her in the herenow ) — she has many names, the commanders of the past tell her but commander of death is the one that stands out the most to her; telling her more of who she was than any other sound put to her being. it is clearly spoken to garner her attention and though it does not please her the way that hearing wanheda would, she watches his approach without feeling.
aside from the physical aches and pains and the annoying grit of sand in her mouth; red sand that stains her fur like the dried blood that she has not bothered to wash from her. still, she has no idea how she has gotten this way. without any past knowledge to draw on — not even so much as a will-o-wisp hint to clue her in she is left with nothing but abysmal blankness. thus, she figures she belongs without anything else to guide her to any other conclusion.
frostbound gaze settles upon the jackrabbit betwixt his jaws; her stomach giving a pitiful roll in hunger. hunger that could so very easily toe the line between being disgust but only because the pain keeps her from feeling up-to-par with how she should feel.
though his smugness does not go beneath her notice, she is not sure what warrants it; their history erased from her memory for better or worse. he calls himself her 'grandmaster' — in conjunction with the mental affirmation that she was commander, this feels strange and does not sit well with her — but there was nothing to do but accept it.
she eyes the jackrabbit at his paws once more; salmon pink tongue darting out to drawl across her jowls as she hesitated between being truthful or remaining silent; or demanding answers. for the moment, she settles for silence at first, though she shuffles forward a bit, drawing herself closer to him though she desires to slink away from the sun and remain in the cool, projected shade of the cavern mouth.
she isn't sure if she should admit that she has no recollection from any point before waking up here; her instinctual, draconian nature snaking 'round her and holding her tight; and thinks of a way to ask questions that might be subtle enough to keep from admitting it right off the bat. at least until she gets a feel for this grandmaster.
why am i here?she asks; voice rough.
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Messages In This Thread
Always comes at the worst time - by Kynareth Deagon - August 07, 2021, 04:47 AM
RE: Always comes at the worst time - by RIP Praimfaya - August 07, 2021, 10:11 AM
RE: Always comes at the worst time - by Kynareth Deagon - August 08, 2021, 04:02 PM
RE: Always comes at the worst time - by RIP Praimfaya - August 15, 2021, 07:14 AM
RE: Always comes at the worst time - by Kynareth Deagon - August 23, 2021, 03:17 AM