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The Shattered coast was miles from her home within the borders of Inferni, far out of her way and around a stretch of Dahlian land. As the Lupus female left Halifax, she started to wonder why she had even decided to go that far. She had everything she needed in the home of the coyotes, from family to food to lovers. If she really needed to make an excursion so far from the border, she could have convinced others to come with her. But she hadn't. She had simply left, on her own, with no reason. Not uncommon with the de le Poer; her brain was a mess most days, most hours. She hadn't been truly sober since her encounter with Cotl van Ulrich. What a disgusting memory.
Perhaps that was the reason. The reason she had ventured so far off, so far away, by herself. To be alone. To think. She had brought the prize of the Optime skull with her, dragging behind her in a crude fabric sledge; that would keep her hands busy. She'd scavenged up some paints, and she was ready to decorate. Ready to make her mark on the walls of Inferni.
Her paws spread, lengthening into slim fingers as her body shifted into a more vertical stand. It was distracting as she focused on the change, urging her shorter legs to lengthen into much longer thighs, gaining a new joint with a crackling crunch. It wasn't painful; if she had been on the outside, looking in, she would have said it was beautiful. She always enjoyed watching others, viewing them as they morphed between one form and another. She could stare for hours; luckily, it only took eight minutes before she was standing straight, weight shifted to her feet, combing her long locks out into smoother chestnut waves.
Delicate fingers tugged away the knot that had held the heavier skull to her back. The beautiful treasure, found in the Dalhousie dormitories. She was proud of her find, so proud of the almost perfect Optime skull, larger than her own. The skull of one of the vile beasts that populated the rest of the earth. The wolves.
As she unwrapped it, her tanned fingers graced the surface with soft caresses. The bone was smooth, not bleached but not covered in the waste that often clung to recent bones. It was old. Unsurprising. The Lykoi smiled, a subtle grin directed to the skull itself. "You were a pathetic waste, weren't you. Just like the others." Of course, she left her own blood out of it. Gabriel de le Poer was far from a waste, but she knew there was more to him than simple coyote genes. He was too large. Despite his sanctified place in her heart, it made her stomach churn to know she was not what she wished to be. She was tainted. Impure. Vile, filthy, disgusting. So many words summed up the abomination that was her blood. And yet, she was adored within her home. She tainted the land there, but others found no issue.
Perhaps they were growing weak.
Hands steadying, she raised a crude paintbrush, made just for the occassion. It was time to decorate, to show outsiders that there were simply borders not to be crossed. The first mark was in red. A brilliant circle with eight pointed lines pulling from the center.
The Chaos Star.
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