Twisted Slough I've never been too good at goodbyes
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All Welcome 



A century, it felt like, since she began her trek. Long, boring walks weren't often something she enjoyed. Some found the leisurely strolls comforting. She found them both annoying and a waste of time. Physical strength was best saved for the battle field. And being there was a common thing. Yet another reason to preserve her motivation.

Lack of patience wasn't much help for this, though. Every step was another reason to hate this area. Every bush and tree trunk reeked of piss, placed there by one idiotic wolf, and then on to the next. It flooded through Maven's nostrils, burning within like a gush of smoke in her lungs. Hope wasn't a word she had fondness for—but, oh how she hoped to be through this pitiful territory soon. But as for where she would go from there, no decision had yet been made. Her goal was simply to familiarize herself with this new place. After all, it would become her new home. For that, she needed knowledge. So knowledge she would find.




Common | Trigedasleng
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` ` Blood must have blood. ` `
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Mature Content Warning


This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.

The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Mentions of cannibalism. Self harm.

A dead man walking, a living corpse breathing…

How and why is he still alive?

He doesn’t know, but his recent travels have been mindless. He is nothing but an animalistic beast, there’s no room for thoughts besides death, and even then, that’s hardly a thought in and of itself. He allows his instincts to guide him.

And so that is how he got here. He doesn’t know or care where here is, but the bugs still crawl beneath his skin just as they have throughout the years.

Oh, but there’s a surprise here…

Another wolf.

He feels the bugs…whiskered lips wrinkle and long, curved ears press flat with the accompanied feeling. His shoulder twitches like a horse flicking away flies and finally, when he can’t resist any longer, he curls his body and snaps long teeth at his own flesh. Guttural growls and strings of drool fall from leathery lips, slinging onto an ungroomed pelt as he tears and bites at himself. Only when he tastes blood and feels that oh so seductive feeling of pain does he finally relent.

A huff falls from his lips and a black tongue laps at his teeth and lips once more. Uncaring if the other wolf saw him mutilate himself, he sets his sights on them next. And as if making up his mind, his tail moves high and a barking growl is ripped from his throat as he moves in — prowling closer and closer with the intent to kill and rip.

He’s not even hungry, but he could see himself having a bite…
Oh — he’s sick-sick. Destructive, deranged, and dead. But somehow still alive…

”Common”  ”Spanish”

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She was alone, and then she was not.

From ahead, the mountain woman watched as a mammoth-like beast approached. First it was slow, but the speed eventually increased.

The sound from the creature: a threat, a warning. But oh, Maven doesn't care. It's a game. All of it was.

Making her own steady pace, the woman moves to meet him head on. When close enough, her teeth would be ready, reaching for any place they can get a good hold. 

Perhaps he was a giant and could overpower her— but from what she could tell, they were equally as bloodthirsty. And that was just fine with her.

Common | Trigedasleng
—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—
` ` Blood must have blood. ` `
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It was clear the other creature before him had no qualms with a fight. For she even moves towards the beast in search of her own pound of flesh. And when the two savages get closer, they’re both striking out like snakes. Her fangs catch and rip his face, but it hardly makes him stumble as his cheek and lip are seared open.

No. The pain excites him. 

And so with nothing but kill, kill, kill in this beast’s mind, he rocks himself forward to snatch at a neck, a shoulder, a face — anything his teeth decide to catch too. Spit flies and he sees red, but somehow there is something familiar of the woman that snaps back at him…
Oh — he’s sick-sick. Destructive, deranged, and dead. But somehow still alive…

”Common”  ”Spanish”

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She tore at something. She could feel the skin tug and pull, but her opponent made no efforts to acknowledge what must have accompanied. But that was all well and fine. Perhaps the two were more alike. Careless with their qualms and dismissive of the fall of their own blood, if even perhaps delighted by it!

They moved closer, taking the same approach as she had, but with different hopes. An un-aimed reach, but she ducks nearly without time to spare. Below them, now she hovers, whipping her body against her back to that her claws may rake against the underbelly. Back and forth her head sways, teeth eagerly snapping for anything they may latch onto, or any skin they may tear away. 

This was exciting! Her adrenaline pumped harder and harder with each second, eyes lit ablaze with a keen fury. These moments made her not dislike this stranger. No— she adored them for the fun they brought with their presence! A fight like this, she had not partaken in some time. What a pleasant way to start her journey in this new land.

Common | Trigedasleng
—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—
` ` Blood must have blood. ` `