Ravenshook Cliffs she made a garland of the broken weeds
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#1
Random Event 
she'd left the vale wolves behind. she didn't belong with them; perhaps it was her curse. faded fragments of religion and worship lurked in the back of her mind, tarnished and golden; a flicker of a copse shot through with a hundred floating stars, balls of light. she was a wanderer; and what homes she sought crumbled and faded. she had no reason the rest of her life would not be the same; and she was left empty, resolute.

she'd wanted to see the ocean, the waves crash against the cliffs. the firebrand stood still upon the cliff edge, wary of the drop, something in her made quiet by the ocean's relentless fury against the unmoving rock. 

and then there was movement and pain, and the woman crumpled. no sound erupted from her lips, no death call or prayer of scream. rust and red painted the rocks, and then she was unbounded, untethered, headed

down
down
down

and the sea swallowed the fire-touched, finally and completely.
did you hear the sun go down?
silent as a child I found
hiding in the midnight of my soul
I am ready now to let her go
in our town the hangman came, smelling of gold, blood and flame
390 Posts
Ooc — jal
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#2
Selfishly, the idea popped into his head no sooner than he saw her. But to be fair, to deprive himself of his innate desires was simply no fun. Perhaps he just missed @Alya.

Either way, his days of mindless pillaging and aimless killing were wholly more entertaining than the last few months of mundane and dreary tasks such as fishing and bird watching. Life on the bright side simply did not suit him, but at least he could say he tried. Ripping the girl’s neck open took far less effort than he previously thought, having been so out of practice for nearly half a year. He felt nothing as he did it but felt everything as her last pulse flickered and died out on his tongue. How could he have given it up for so long? The taste of her life, the doomed will to live, the pain, the last traces of life slipping away under his tooth and claw -- it was intoxicating in the most frivolous way. If only he could bring himself to feel the slightest shred of remorse, perhaps he might not have smiled as he did it. The relapse felt more like an unholy revitalization; as if someone had snapped their fingers and he arose from his ancient slumber like a vengeful god. But it was over before he knew it and her tiny limp body hung like a wet rag in his jaw; a child reduced to an empty carcass in under a minute. As he flung her body off the cliff to crash unto the storming rocks below, he found that was not enough. He could feel the familiar ache nestle comfortably within him, restoring itself as his catalyst and most valued motivator. Vaati craved destruction. Whether or not that was moronically typical to admit, he could not deny that it was something he basked in. Licking his chops, he then and there decided that sobriety was a loser’s cause, and a morally misguided venture to embark on in the first place.
for the sins of the unworthy
must be baptized in blood & fear