Post by Crystal on Nov 29, 2008 21:57:14 GMT -5
((Many people are welcome, but please, if so, lets keep to a posting order. Order it as you come in.))
Bloody moon, bloody night, hear the cries of spite. And did she hear those cries, for hours now. Before even deeming to step foot near the perimeter of the outskirts, she could hear the wayward howls and yowls of the Outsiders. The sound alone had sent shivers shaking down her spine and her intestines to tighten deep in her stomach. But at the time, not even the gods alone, breaking the Earth into tiny bits, could take her mind off of her aggressions. She came from a long, long line of Kragarians that held anger management issues. And personality disorders, but at the time that was irrelevant. Her father before her had been a hated, but almighty powerful king whose reign was harnessed by fury. So, her solution? Walking into a territory full of mutated, immortals with nothing better to do than kill. It all makes so much sense.
So there she stood, one hand firmly against a bloodied tree trunk, leaning her weight into it. Her chest heaved heavily, her breath only starting to catch up with her. Blood dripped all down her body, drenching every inch of her skin, tank top and top of her pants. Her bare arms were tainted a blackish red, the color of the Outsiders. Their mutated and sickly inner life. Bringing up her other hand, she studied this grime, this death, and watched the blood begin to harden under her extended claws. Shutting her eyes, she could feel the blood on her lashes stick together, nearly causing her to tear. Behind her closed eyes, looking at the darkness of her lids, her mind already flashed back the memories of moments ago. She could see the teeth, the claws, the hair, the blood. All of it, everywhere, in quick, swift movements. Nails gashed into flesh, teeth bit hard. Skin was ripped, muscle was torn, and bones were broken.
Once more, she opened her eyes and sighed. Her breath was returned to right, even after only a second. Glancing down to her own skin, every tear and bruise created by the creatures began to sew itself up, healing to its own accord. Such was the way of her kind. Running her palm over the skin of her other arm, she smeared the blood, feeling the wounds that were no longer there. That was when she glanced it. Narrowing her eyes, her hand instantly grabbed for the broken strap of her tank top. “Ah fuck no.” Growling deeply, her palm hit harshly against the tree trunk and scoffing, she turned rolling her eyes. That was great, now she needed to replace that. Instantly, she raked a hand through her white, silver streaked hair, smearing more red into it. Crouching down, she began to reach for her affects. Two hand guns, a pair of Sais, and various knives, plus her belt and trench coat.
Bloody moon, bloody night, hear the cries of spite. And did she hear those cries, for hours now. Before even deeming to step foot near the perimeter of the outskirts, she could hear the wayward howls and yowls of the Outsiders. The sound alone had sent shivers shaking down her spine and her intestines to tighten deep in her stomach. But at the time, not even the gods alone, breaking the Earth into tiny bits, could take her mind off of her aggressions. She came from a long, long line of Kragarians that held anger management issues. And personality disorders, but at the time that was irrelevant. Her father before her had been a hated, but almighty powerful king whose reign was harnessed by fury. So, her solution? Walking into a territory full of mutated, immortals with nothing better to do than kill. It all makes so much sense.
So there she stood, one hand firmly against a bloodied tree trunk, leaning her weight into it. Her chest heaved heavily, her breath only starting to catch up with her. Blood dripped all down her body, drenching every inch of her skin, tank top and top of her pants. Her bare arms were tainted a blackish red, the color of the Outsiders. Their mutated and sickly inner life. Bringing up her other hand, she studied this grime, this death, and watched the blood begin to harden under her extended claws. Shutting her eyes, she could feel the blood on her lashes stick together, nearly causing her to tear. Behind her closed eyes, looking at the darkness of her lids, her mind already flashed back the memories of moments ago. She could see the teeth, the claws, the hair, the blood. All of it, everywhere, in quick, swift movements. Nails gashed into flesh, teeth bit hard. Skin was ripped, muscle was torn, and bones were broken.
Once more, she opened her eyes and sighed. Her breath was returned to right, even after only a second. Glancing down to her own skin, every tear and bruise created by the creatures began to sew itself up, healing to its own accord. Such was the way of her kind. Running her palm over the skin of her other arm, she smeared the blood, feeling the wounds that were no longer there. That was when she glanced it. Narrowing her eyes, her hand instantly grabbed for the broken strap of her tank top. “Ah fuck no.” Growling deeply, her palm hit harshly against the tree trunk and scoffing, she turned rolling her eyes. That was great, now she needed to replace that. Instantly, she raked a hand through her white, silver streaked hair, smearing more red into it. Crouching down, she began to reach for her affects. Two hand guns, a pair of Sais, and various knives, plus her belt and trench coat.