the Rift


status: creature with which one does not fuck

Mavuto Posts: 6
Absent Abyss
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15 :: 6
Laine
#1

The little devil barreled through the forest, kicking up a racket and leaving a trail of devastation in her wake. Though she moved with tirelessness, there was a rough tenacity to her path, uncomprehending or uncaring about the variations in the density of the underbrush. Fallen leaves rustled, twigs snapped, and rocks went flying but the determined little powerhouse didn't vary her course for anything smaller than a tree.

Though her small size may have been an excuse to dismiss her, the rest made her down-right unsettling. For one, she was filthy; different shades of dirt and dust clung to her like souvenirs from all the places she had traveled, burs and leaves matted in her short mane and lackluster tail. Second, her wide honey colored eyes had no visible pupuls that had a permanently glazed, manic look about them. Last (and probably most ominous to those of these parts) the stretch of grey that stretched over her back from brow to dock was covered in blood. Though long since dried and starting to flake away, it could not be denied that at some point on the past months something had been drained of it's lifeblood so that she could don this macabre mantle.

It would have been one thing to meet Mavuto when she was in a good mood, but today was not lending itself to that possibility. Everything about her situation was primed to make her agitated. She was too far from her home, the land she was in had too many trees, too many things she didn't recognize, it was even too cold here. Coming from the warm open plains of Dorobo, this was akin to a hellscape and Mavuto didn't even know about frostfall yet.  After a year on the hunt she was at least thankful that the old general was so distinctive looking, but even so her trail was growing colder, her last lead had been years old already. As much as she yearned to return home, she had her mission. She'd set into it with tooth and claw and by all the gods would not let go until she saw it through. She'd find him and she'd take him back, come hell or high water.

M A V U T O
sweat dripping down your chest
thinking ‘bout your tattooed knuckles
that girl is a  p r o b l e m



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status: creature with which one does not fuck - by Mavuto - 10-07-2016, 01:44 PM

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