10-09-2009, 01:41 AM
[html]Table by James [/html]
Kaena's scarred head tilted to the side as she studied this creature. There was something almost ethereal about her blank face and her hollow eyes, her dyed-crimson hair which seemed to almost flame about her creamy-pale head. She was very pretty, Kaena thought, with her wide eyes and lovely coloration, that red splash upon her head that reminded the grizzled matron of her own star, targeting out her very heart and daring those who would strike her to connect there, where the life in her body was contained.
The hybrid woman cocked her head to the side and gave a grin that seemed almost mirthful at first, though it was twisted by her scars and injuries. "Death has been pursuing me since I was a small puppy. He grows irritated that I have evaded his grasp for ten long years," she informed the younger canine, personifying death as she had when she was younger and she herself had pursued him, dancing with him and beckoning for him to take her away. "Several times over, I should have died of injury, of malice, of illness, of a broken heart—but here I am," she said.
The hybrid's angled face tilted as the other canid again spoke, confusion showing briefly for a moment on her face. Dead things did not walk the earth, and Lolita was no ghost. There was a clear scent emanating from her, one that was just barely touched with Dahlia de Mai's smell. It dawned on the Lykoi woman that she was either crazy or ill, either one of which could be particularly dangerous. Narrowing her single eye, the hybrid woman seemed to stiffen again. "You still walk," the hybrid pointed out cautiously. "I have never seen a dead thing walk." The hybrid was not necessarily denying that Lolita was dead, for it had occurred to her that death could exist in several forms, only one of which was the physical sense.
The hybrid woman cocked her head to the side and gave a grin that seemed almost mirthful at first, though it was twisted by her scars and injuries. "Death has been pursuing me since I was a small puppy. He grows irritated that I have evaded his grasp for ten long years," she informed the younger canine, personifying death as she had when she was younger and she herself had pursued him, dancing with him and beckoning for him to take her away. "Several times over, I should have died of injury, of malice, of illness, of a broken heart—but here I am," she said.
The hybrid's angled face tilted as the other canid again spoke, confusion showing briefly for a moment on her face. Dead things did not walk the earth, and Lolita was no ghost. There was a clear scent emanating from her, one that was just barely touched with Dahlia de Mai's smell. It dawned on the Lykoi woman that she was either crazy or ill, either one of which could be particularly dangerous. Narrowing her single eye, the hybrid woman seemed to stiffen again. "You still walk," the hybrid pointed out cautiously. "I have never seen a dead thing walk." The hybrid was not necessarily denying that Lolita was dead, for it had occurred to her that death could exist in several forms, only one of which was the physical sense.