It all started here.
The retched despair. The howling, desperate cries of innocents. All have fallen, so many fell to a hideous disease. A disease created from nothing other than lethal selfishness.
Horrid, gut retching guilt snakes it's way around her throat. It's smooth skin is but a facade, for when it recedes it pulls it's pointed, angry scales across the prickled flesh. It's muscles, recoiling and twisting back, exposing ugly, tainted fangs. The venom is sweet at first, sparks of excitement dance on your tongue. Before it turns to dust, a vile and metallic dust that only get's to live if the wind carries it.
The bones of loved ones, they are but a lost memory. A reminder of what was and what will never be again. Things have changed, but for the better and for the worse. Something within the vixen's soul was forever lost and full of unforgiving blackness. She would curse all those who have wronged her, but the one who pulled the worse sin of all was all but one she once saved.
These swamps are still a refuge, despite their twisted mangroves of lies. The evening had a chanting choir of critters, clinking and cricketing within the vegetation. Large black ears swiveled forward, focused on nothing other than a very familiar wooden plank. The same of which that had once dangled above a pool of deadly quick sand. The same life sucking quick sand that a white mouse was once caught in.
Oh how enticing his voice decided to be that day, provoking the once, bitter wolfess from her daily attributes. Moments away, the white furred beast would be sucked within the sand's endless pits, forever sacrificed to Lucifer himself. Instead, in her greatest moment of regret, her stilted legs crossed each other as she turned to help with said wooden plank.
And it was still here, what a ironic- silly thought that was.
This was the plank Memphis Vory V Zakone maneuvered to help free Dragunov Solokov from the sand pit's maddening grasp. And that was the very moment Memphis believed to be the soul reason of Traum's fall. She saved him... how was she to know? How was she to know if she saved the white faced, blue eyed demon- that he would be the one to gain high altitudes, in both status and once, even, Memphis' most precious of areas. Raping her of both her dignity and patience. He would raise above, gain an army and pillage the entire island, leaving nothing behind but death and disease.
Such a shame.
The wolfess felt a blind rage flash before her eyes, legs suddenly picking out the wooden planks' weakest mid-point. Pulling up her weight, and using her ankles- pointed paws as hard as she could, snapping it in half. She wished she felt relief pour from her shoulders, listening to that bitter sweet snap of the wood. Instead her shoulders heaved, throwing both her head and paws forward to break the plank completely in half, smashing the pieces out from under her.
Thick mud and dangerous sands exploded from under the object, coating her face in a macabre affect. Oh how she wished this was his skull. Wished she could take it all back... get back her sweet, sweet son, Arden. Her fierce mate, her large family- the peaceful island... but wishing doesn't get you anywhere, does it Drago?
/// open and/or for Luciel --- was feeling quite upset tonight
and also, a good look into those who don't know the whole back story between Memphis and Dragunov (the leader of the Order, whom started the war that ended Traum 5 years ago)