an advanced play-by-post realistic wolf roleplay
NORTHOFNOWHERE


[M] Nefarious
#1
Ah the tidings of time; such a precious existence that withered to nothing. A southern lady, borne of anguish and flames bounded by ropes and torn heart walls. Nothing was left but those bittersweet memories. Reminiscing caused the demons' talons to gnarl across the dragon's debilited scales. Winter. A harrowing fate, drenched; a cold sweat wrapped across her body and the girl's bones withered and roared with a winter ache, Serpentine gaze flickered between the realms of sanity and insanity. Feverish, inflamed and nauseous, the dragon was in a state that she wanted none to see. But beyond all hope. with nothing, that girl would not accept defeat despite Elsynia bestowing a wretched ailment upon her. Fuck those gods Xiuhcoatl once bowed upon. Since divulging first breaths to this present moment, the world she lived upon was one she disgusted; she abhorred everything... everyone.

Cracked lips parted, icily exhaling a puff of freezing air into the intoxicating frost of winter. Emptiness coursed through the staircase of her rigid spine, a poison that flowed through the marrow of her bones and a ball of tangled serpents knotted round each rib. Despising the vulnerable state with utter passion, this drove the dragon to outstretch torn wings and with all of her withering force to stand. And from there the rubied girl took off lacking all grace and femininity that once flourished upon her streamline body. One quest remained: to replenish her illness and reverse all weakness that wrought her soul. Wound after wound, a web of scars was all that remained truly. Emptiness. It stalked her like a shadow. But off she took, off she took to find anything, absolutely anything. Empty. Nothing. And..

A body bent and broken, one that had faded into the painted gray and dragged down into the bowels of hell. A state of delirium and trapped between consciousness and unconsciousness, a somber hush fell upon their vicinity. Stumbling towards the carcass, a flicker of hope enlightened her soul for brief moments until Tauthe noticed the remains of this creature was that of her own kind. Saliva violently seeped between clenched fangs, desperately trying to console the sin her instincts desired for her to commit, tears of anguish streamed from sunken eye sockets and fell down sharp cheekbones. Brows feverishly creasing, all that mattered was the life she selfishly wore. Mother would not want the remaining DeArc to wither due to the bitterness of the winter. After all she was a Dragon. It was survival of the fittest. In a brash and violent movement, eyes tightly shut and skin crawling, the dragon soared ever closer to the carcass, fangs piercing the rotten flesh and dismantling tendons and muscles. Glacial blood pooled her jaws and a rush of pleasure rolled across the planes of her skeleton.

It felt so wrong, yet it felt so right. She wanted none to see. Every now and often she would snatch a view of her surroundings, to make sure she was alone and that none else would make attempts to steal this ration. After all, as much as she chose to deny that she was too vulnerable to defend what is hers, she would not survive an attack.

The flames no longer burned, all that remained was ashes.


“You seemed to replace your brain with your heart ."
MANIP & TABLE ➤TWISTY


@Evanora
REPLY
#2

Once upon a time, she had been fire incarnate, an inferno yet to be harnessed or scorned. Sultry embers seethed and hissed upon her cape, their frustration marring fine peltage with charcoal. The maiden herself was nothing unholy; nor were the flames she treasured so. She had claimed to feed upon the pines in self-righteous fervor, so true she was to herself. To her principles. She had tread upon the ashen holdings of the Pine Grove, a fighting light that refused to buckle beneath the all-consuming darkness offered by the canopies overhead.

Once, she had been something… greater. Better than what she was now.

Her flame had once burned in the most unlikely of places. She had smiled in the face of adversity, demanding for the challenges to come her way. It was all a child’s game. It was prosperity, the makeup of her design. Victory and bloodlust marked her eyes.

Yet the wildfire that had once staked its claim within the girl’s breast had been doused, and all that remained were cinders, sizzled and worn. The sylphlike curvatures of her body had dissipated with the first snow. Where there was once muscle and sinew, skin and bone now enclosed. A larger frame she still bore, though the indentations upon her rib’s cage were imprinted upon her armor.

She was still alive. She was still fighting. The Tiamats would return at winter’s end, she was sure. They could spread their legacy through all the pines, the heated beaches of the coastline… even those who walked upon the foothills would know of Ignatius. And when the warm winds rolled from the ocean’s edge, the Heilis would sing of their enemy’s feats in battle. For the Matriarch’s rage could not be so easily subdued – wherever she now stayed, her fury bubbled and broiled. Her gaze scorched the snows in anticipation of attack, for all the pieces in this mysterious puzzle to fall perfectly into place. She would return, and all would know her wrath.

Those were the assurances that quelled the anxieties from her mind. Winter screamed her rage at the embodiment of fire, at the flame who dared to burn upon the snow. For surely fire needed wood to burn? She was still nestled comfortably within recess of pines, though the cold winds streamlined through her peltage, silvered blades. But it was death’s perfume that wrought her attentions. He was carried upon a lesser breeze, threatening to overcome the clearing in which she stood. The fresh linings of a meal lay spattered on her chest. It had been a meager prize, but all was welcome during times such as these, and she had no objections. Eventually she would find a more fearsome beast, a king. But now she was content.

She pressed forward, audits flickering upon her crown. Guttural sounds were barely audible against the breeze, something barbaric that she found quite distasteful. Unease filled the pits of her stomach. There was something wrong about the noise, something… disturbing.

Why was she suddenly filled with such dread?

Wolf’s blood tainted the air, causing the embered maiden to come to a halt. In the distance, she could se… a disheveled, reddened body… hunched over food?

No. That smell was not food.

”What are you doing?”


@Tauthe

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