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Few interests had stayed through all her years, but the affection for her beloved katana and the casual makings of bony accessories had been constants during her lengthy years of life. She didn’t fickle so much with the latter as she’d like, unfortunately. Dangerous, slightly curved claws tapped along the hard bones, though she was in no mood to fickle with her jewellery making today. What was it good for anyway, huh? No one ever requested her to make anything anyway, and to her it certainly had to mean that they thought her nicely crafter items were garbage. The answer was probably that few were even aware that the warrior woman busied herself with such things. It wasn’t something she loudly advertised about. It made her wonder if Cotl had kept the spiked wristband she had created for him so long ago. One hand moved; stroking the slight curve by her slender back. The short, doggish man’s part of the bargain had been a magnificent drawing of a tattoo. If she had decided to do anything with it, a row of beautiful, crimson stained flowers would have graced her back. But it was too much, and what if she had come to regret it?
Halo was overall quite pleased with the way she looked. Her beauty was not common, and had her soul been less fierce—les cruel—she would no doubt have waded through the males of these lands. But she didn’t; she probably scared away every suitor there was. She had learned to accept this, for it would be too much of a difficult task to attempt to adjust a grand part of her wicked personality. She just wished she didn’t have enough self-insight to be aware of this disadvantageous fact. She was well aware of her issues, and would rather have chosen to live in ignorance. But whatever. Red fury seemed to be a part of her, and though it easily twisted her features and made her ugly rather than beautiful, there was sweetness to it as well. Very little could match the blissful satisfaction of a well-placed fist in a face she couldn’t stand. Most of the creatures she didn’t get along with lived within these clan-lands, unfortunately, but there were a few, memorable moments that she could linger with. Violence seemed to make her happy. She liked to destroy things. And people. Indeed.
On the other side of the door, there was an intruding knock against the poor wood she had mistreated mere moments earlier. She almost jumped in surprise, for she hadn’t been aware that anyone had been nearby. With a vision coloured red, she had not noticed the man as she had stomped through half the house and back. It wasn’t before she slammed the door open a second time that she realized who it was. Ears swivelled, pained, as the door leaped into the wooden wall yet again. And she decided this was his fault. It made sense to her, and that was what mattered. Scarlet orbs, dark with her bad blood, peered up at the masculine face of her student, or whatever. Subordinate. Who did he think he was, coming here and knocking on her door? The woman inhaled, deeply, and bit the tip of her tongue rather gently, to allow a moment or two to pass before she was to start barking at his face.
With the male so close, it was not possible for her to ignore his scent. It wasn’t just his she detected. Almost unnoticeably, her slender, fox-like snout seemed to wrinkle. So it was true then, that her rat-tail cousin had found herself a handsome prince. This was naturally not something the mentally unstable Triarii could appreciate. But she didn’t place an open frown on her face instantly, for she had yet to yell at him. ”WHAT?” her whipping voice demanded, lashing through the dusty air. Poor male, she should try to do a better job at stabilizing her unpredictable emotions. She was worse than a rollercoaster when it came to her swinging moods. Or perhaps today was simply a really bad day. It wasn’t his fault that the Triarii and her children were all idiots. Narrowed hues of deep reds stared at him, accusatory, as if it was in fact he that had chewed up the pelts she had loved so.
So, what the fuck did he want now? Urkh, the stench of her cousin was worse than gasoline thrown onto the fire. She had carried around on her suspicions for quite a while now, but now she could confirm with certainty.
ized bone each? The fault was hers. Damnit.
Your faith walks on broken glass
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