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03-03-2014, 07:30 PM
His sibilant whispers, seeking oceans of malice curling through the knotted forests of her mind, is an unwelcome interruption to the monotony of her thick thoughts. The harlot shoves Mongrel's consolations and warning away; teeth gnash and grit together in deepening frustration. I am sick, the hellion tells the kitsune; I do not want to take part in riddles of the tongue. Yet he is persistent, caressing her sullen cranium with figurative fingers, curling around her charcoal legs, the oil of his fur soothing, but despite all his assurances, she can feels the thorny barbs of his impatience. The fool yako thinks she brought this upon herself- ha! As if she chose to get sick! Pressure builds behind her eyes. Ears pin. Today is not a good day to run into the vassal of ruination and rot. Slowly, balance slightly skewed, she begins to pick her way over the drifts of snow. The cold is not a particularly bad one, but it's quite enough to put her into an irritable mood; brows furrow down over her eyes as she moves with rather less grace than usual, every sound of her hooves crunching through snow making her wince. Her head pounds; she feels sore, everywhere, that kind of sick ache a victim of the flu gets deep in their muscles; her ashen tail flicks grimly over ebony flanks. How she hates this little feeling, a feeling she is unaccustomed to: a sensation of futile uselessness, the want of laziness. Fuck if she would let such a thing as illness get in her way. She picks up a trot, jarring her cranium with every stride, the rasp of her nostrils particularly louder than usual. Yellow fluids, thick and copious, run from her nostrils, freezing in the frigid air of winter. Nonetheless, she grinds her jaw and bears it, following her yako towards the stallion he indicated meeting. They draw closer, and she slows, breath a little hoarse, audits circumnavigating towards the black shape in the woods ahead. For a moment she lingers, unwilling to draw closer, before she slinks and sidles her way. "I am Confutatis," she says, wearily. "Welcome to Helovia." ♛ THE REGIME ♛ |
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