05-28-2009, 07:46 PM
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The Wastes The scarred lady moved lightly over the eroded and filthy sands. With each step, a sharp pain raced across her ribcage, reminding her of her damages. They would heal, perhaps weakening her, but not killing her. Around her neck a silver chain hung, and dangling from it was a carved picture of what she likened to Asmodai, her father. She was in lupus form, having abandoned shifting as a taint on her path to Darkness. She had entered the world pure as a wolf and it had been her mate to rip that away from her, may he rot. A sigh escaped her as she turned to watch the waters. This place wasn't beautiful, and it was for that reason she liked it. |