Word Count :: 534 le fuuuuu. i post and you log off. ;..; !!! bite me! backdated dec 10th if possible?
It had taken less than a full moon’s time to settle down and earn (if it could be considered as such) a place among others. Granted, her newly acquired home was temporary but it was a weight off her shoulders nonetheless. As per the agreement between the two new housemates, Lilin would not have to worry about food and shelter as long as she provided a helping hand in Barrett's endeavours: a hypocritical trade, considering the fact that she simply did not agree with the activities he engaged in. She’d been raised a certain way, elevating to a higher state of mind by seeking Azathoth’s guidance as opposed to recklessly indulging in drugs and alcohol. It was the same thing, she’d once been told: the same satisfaction and sense of invincibility. Of course, the latter way of achieving elation was for the weak.
Her peculiar mindset obviously posed a problem of great magnitude. Her whole life revolved around centuries-old prophecies and apocalyptic predictions, as opposed to just getting a clue and putting together her own opinions based on personal experiences. How could she? She had no life experiences up to date. She’d lived in Lillith Stormbringer’s shadow for far too long and this was the end result of an existence sheltered from communal life. The two-toned juvenile had wandered off earlier that morning, choosing to leave without notifying Barrett of her intentions. She doubted he would care anyway, seeing as he was probably off gallivanting himself. Why she’d decided to head further north, she couldn’t say. Perhaps her goal was to decipher just how many packs were settled up there. And as she quickly came to realize, it was definitely more than she’d anticipated. Three? She couldn’t be certain at this point.
It took very little to throw her off course. A scent she knew all too well, not personally but figuratively, hung heavy in the atmosphere: a concoction of hormones and slightly acidic waste outlined a very specific area ahead. It reeked with bad omens and brutal memories of a past life, bringing forth forgotten images of withering purity. Her dam hovered over the pups, tarnished fangs covered with the blood of the innocent. It had been for Azathoth, for their salvation. It had been for His contentment and to rid the world of the undeserving. Sooner than later, she found herself standing before the salt and pepper femme burgeoning with life to come. The cult’s descendent was conscientious enough not to trespass, treading carefully outside the lands claimed by the pregnant bitch. It would’ve been too easy to bring harm upon her and the unborn in her womb, seeing as she was seemingly unaccompanied and too heavy to fend for herself.
Luckily, she did not bear the barbarity her mentor possessed. Her mother was an extremist while Lilin liked to interpret things in her favor. Putting herself in harm’s way over something as trivial as this was foolish and unnecessary. Her God had yet to show the need for compensation. Snorting with apparent dread, Lilin halted several feet away from her current subject of interest before throwing her nose in the air, aiming to point at the woman’s belly. “Smells like death.”
Image courtesy of jeremy vandel; table by the Mentors!
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