03-29-2011, 06:10 PM
OOC: No, she is not sane at all if you were wondering. Neither am I. 
Tsk tsk if you ever thought she was... you should know better! 
"Okay, okay, sorry. I know I should go see a psychologist, psychiatrist, whatever you civilized people call those crazy voodoo doctors." She cracked a smile. No matter who you were, you for sure couldn't call her civilized, unless you were some vicious crazy maniac who killed people for a living. She overused the word crazy nowadays. What words could substitute for 'crazy'? Insane, psychotic, demented, unhinged, the list went on and on, leaving her too lazy to continue thinking of synonyms. Her smile faded as she came back to the task at hand. "You just... how exactly should I say this... haven't experienced... don't know anything about what I've been through. That I will murder, but only in self-defense. I've never really felt happiness, never felt love. If such things even exist in this world." In reality she had, and it showed in her expression, but she wasn't about to share her story with this male. She longed to feel love again, but it would never really be the same as it was with the one person she had ever really loved.
She remembered a day lying under the full moon miles away, just steps away from the house she had shared with her gypsy friend. The present faded as she went back to that seemingly perfect day. Her small body was curled up with her friend Eragon's, and he was telling her stories, tickling her, making her laugh her light, clear silvery laugh. Okay, maybe he had been a little more than a friend to her young mind. They were both just under a year old, him a bit older, both ran away from home long ago, both wanted companionship. That was the night she agreed to marry him. Four months later, he was killed. Killed before their wedding. Killed by the same coyotes that killed her gypsy friend and wounded herself. She looked at the male in front of him, and waves of hatred came. Not for the male in particular, but for all coyotes. She would never really stop hating them.
But she never hated anyone more than she hated herself. She hated herself too much to just cut her own throat with her claw. No, she must die a much more painful death. For all that she had done. For letting him die.
"Well anyways, I won't go psycho again, I promise." She vowed to stay true to her promise, no matter what her inner thoughts and feelings might be.
Tsk tsk if you ever thought she was... you should know better! "Okay, okay, sorry. I know I should go see a psychologist, psychiatrist, whatever you civilized people call those crazy voodoo doctors." She cracked a smile. No matter who you were, you for sure couldn't call her civilized, unless you were some vicious crazy maniac who killed people for a living. She overused the word crazy nowadays. What words could substitute for 'crazy'? Insane, psychotic, demented, unhinged, the list went on and on, leaving her too lazy to continue thinking of synonyms. Her smile faded as she came back to the task at hand. "You just... how exactly should I say this... haven't experienced... don't know anything about what I've been through. That I will murder, but only in self-defense. I've never really felt happiness, never felt love. If such things even exist in this world." In reality she had, and it showed in her expression, but she wasn't about to share her story with this male. She longed to feel love again, but it would never really be the same as it was with the one person she had ever really loved.
She remembered a day lying under the full moon miles away, just steps away from the house she had shared with her gypsy friend. The present faded as she went back to that seemingly perfect day. Her small body was curled up with her friend Eragon's, and he was telling her stories, tickling her, making her laugh her light, clear silvery laugh. Okay, maybe he had been a little more than a friend to her young mind. They were both just under a year old, him a bit older, both ran away from home long ago, both wanted companionship. That was the night she agreed to marry him. Four months later, he was killed. Killed before their wedding. Killed by the same coyotes that killed her gypsy friend and wounded herself. She looked at the male in front of him, and waves of hatred came. Not for the male in particular, but for all coyotes. She would never really stop hating them.
But she never hated anyone more than she hated herself. She hated herself too much to just cut her own throat with her claw. No, she must die a much more painful death. For all that she had done. For letting him die.
"Well anyways, I won't go psycho again, I promise." She vowed to stay true to her promise, no matter what her inner thoughts and feelings might be.