Wake me up inside, I can't wake up


POSTED: Tue Jan 17, 2017 3:55 am

A creature stumbled through the Dampwoods. She stood in her Secui form, her fur was longer but did nothing to hide her skinny build. The female was long-legged but small, about the size of a normal Lupus wolf. She walked on three legs, the left hind leg being lifted off the ground. The woman was silver furred, almost as white as snow. A silvery saddle ran down her back and a black mane hung limply. A pair of long ears stuck out from the mane and were disproportionate to her narrow face that was coyote-like to the untrained eye but jackal to more trained eyes. A long, bushy tail swayed behind her, almost touching the ground despite her long legs. Tied around the canine's waist was a silver garment, a long-sleeved mini-dress and she carried a leather satchel. A pair of mismatched green eyes looked out from the forest background, broken and seemingly lifeless. A bandage was wrapped around her shoulder, hiding a wound.

Avinalora had taken to Secui form since the attacks. Before, she had rarely taken to such a form, preferring her Optime and Lupus forms. She knew that in her halfling form she could stand a chance against an attacker, being the size of a normal wolf. But not being closer to the ground wasn't that good since she couldn't see that far clearly. The vixen knew that for her own protection, Secui was the best to take. In her Lupus form, she was smaller than a fox and could be thrown with a flick of a paw. In Optime form, her defected leg made it nearly impossible for her to run.

But the fox maiden wondered why she had been attacked more often than she had been in months. Only thrice she had actually been in peril and two of those times she had a friend close by. But it seemed as though every loner had it out for her. Was it because she was a jackal? Or was it because she was an Anatheman? The jackal woman had no idea and that scared her. Was Moirai out for her? Or was it Fate? The thought shook her to the bone. Before, she had never been a religious person. But people changed, she guessed. And she was changing. The ex-Midnighter had become a shattered shell, unable to smile or laugh. She was broken.

The broken bird still blamed herself, despite it being a moon since Midnight Shores had disbanded. The grief was eating her away and she was skinnier than she had ever been. The wound that the loner had given her was on it's way to being a scar, she could already tell. It was deep and had been re-opened after the other fiasco. The Anatheman medic knew that she shouldn't be out. But this was too hard for her to keep inside Anathema's boundaries. It was as if she was asking the gods to take her life.

The moon-washed medic stumbled over a root. She cursed softly and continued walking. She had stumbled over roots before and she shook it off. She also didn't mind tripping over things since that had been a daily part of her life. She was almost blind with her vision. She was vulnerable, always was. And that raised the question of why the monochrome jackal kept wandering outside of the safety of her pack. She didn't care anymore.

Word Count ➤ 569


Jean-Sébastien Guénette | JadedReality & 8Moments | Table by Sammiie

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