[html] wc:247
ooc: Poppinz! <3
Night had fallen on the Dampwoods. Colibri moved silently through the maze of trees, the carpet of pine needles muffling her light steps. She had initially come to the forest to hunt, to chase the crepuscular rabbits and rodents scurrying to their burrows before the sun set and owls could lay claim to them. But darkness had crept up quickly, and the werewolf lost interest in seeking prey. She had caught a different scent, once she was far more interested in hunting.
Her earthen-brown fur blended seamlessly with the trunks of the tall coniferous trees, slender height carrying her gracefully over the tangled thickets and undergrowth. She was close. There! Near the stream, nestled within the damp roots of a tree, sprouted a small bush with toothy leaves and an assortment of white trumpet-like flowers. She hadn't known they grew here -- they required wet conditions, but usually a warmer climate. This shrub had been lucky, sheltered by the tree and probably planted inadvertently by some migratory bird.
"...Moonflower, the devil's weed," she murmured, kneeling to touch the five-petaled flower. It was a relative of nightshade, a plant whose effects were only too familiar to her. Gently, she removed one of the fur pouches she wore around her neck, collecting the shrub's thorny leaves. She needed to keep her supplies fresh, as many of the natural poisons would fade as they dried. Knowing that this bush was here would be invaluable -- the weed was highly toxic.
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She had killed a man with poison once. She had watched the life fade from his eyes, horror invoked, knowing what the smiling girl before him had done only once he was inches from death. She was a killer with the guise of an angel, so innocent and pure, eternally childlike. Her body was small, frail, but like a serpent, she was perpetually poised to strike. Her fangs were sharp, deadly. Her own poisons she comsumed, in small amounts, intending to build an immunity, truly changing her into the queen of death. Only her own masochism left her damaged. She refused to defend herself against overt, physical damage. She craved the pain, enjoying the sight of her body broken and bruised.
Carefully catching the widow in a jar, she smiled, peering at the trapped arachnid with an adoring gaze. Perhaps they were one and the same. She wished to devour hearts and consume the sun. There was no love in her touch. Purely, her heart only held selfishness, and everything that she did, everything that she thought and felt, was only for herself. Returning the jar to her pouch, she peered around the tree, a voice softly, undistinctly heard, and yet perhaps not. Her nails found the bark of the tree, sinking into the soft wood, watching with yellow eyes.
She collected the leaves of the moonflower. Elvira didn't immediately realize that this was a fellow poison collector as well.
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[html] wc: 236
ooc: Just for clarification, it's jimson weed, Datura stramonium. =P There are a lot of different 'moonflowers' out there...
As her deft claws plucked the spiky leaves, Colibri recalled one unique property of the weed -- it was hallucinogenic. It would be absolutely perfect as a weapon of self-defense; force the pouch of leaves down her assailant's throat, and they would be trapped in a delirious state, unable to discern their fantasy from reality. She might be small and weak, but this would give her a fighting chance should anyone try to capture or break her again. Killing did not come naturally to her, but fear did, and fear always won out. Her fear had driven her to end several lives, and it could easily push her that far again.
A slight shiver chased down her spine, causing the fine hackles on the nape of her neck to rise. She hadn't heard anything, but it was the unmistakeably eerie sensation that she was being watched. Coli swallowed, growing tense. Had she been followed? She had been moving swiftly, it was possible she had attracted attention. Her bobtail flicked anxiously as she weighed her options. It could simply be paranoia, after all; no need to make a mad dash for the stream.
"...Is someone there?" she finally whispered, ears straining for any kind of response. If it was something harmless like an owl, perhaps it would stir at the sound of her voice. And if she was being hunted... the next sound would be the ambush.
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