[html] It would be said time and time again: this place was both a blessing and a curse. The familiar creaking of the forest and the way the old paths seemed to spring up came was no surprise to Corona. Who strangely enough, had returned on a whim. Chasing ghosts may have been the right term to pin on her, though her ghosts were very much alive. They still had beating hearts in them. The same old blood still coursed their veins after so many days passed. Change hadn't called her back, though through a certain pang of remorse she had not expect to return to find her home gone. No fire coiled in the now ruined fire pit, and nary a soul was left to stir in the dark wood. No matter how deep she dove into its depths, Corona clearly understood that things had changed.
Her thoughts were askew, all they had done recently was turn in circles.
With the night sky unfurled above her in all of it's heavenly splendour, the gold-haired Lykoi resigned to sitting in a broken throne of a home in disrepair. There was a welcome chill in the air, one that she hadn't felt for a long time. She had no reason to be back there after deserting her home once before, but no where else fit like the glove that she was accustomed to. Her petite frame rolled forward as she drew up a pair of slender legs to wrap her arms around, staring uselessly off into the darkness that may as well have been oblivion. She had not the courage to venture to the shore just yet, and more importantly, she hadn't the urge to seek out anyone who may have still been there.
But she was there, smack dab in the middle of Chimera... or what was left of it. [/html]
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God tasted like blood. He was the precious thing creeping in the darkness, and hand sliding up her thigh. Her breath was stopped short by a hand, as black as pitch that would around her throat, and in the darkness there was only pain, and it was so wretchedly beautiful. God's voice was a harsh and ragged whisper, and the air between them carried the malignantly sweet scent of cancer. It was horrible and sweet, so much like death and so much like passion. God was there and gone in the flash of an eye, motion ending abruptly with a streak of blood and pain.
God was dead. God had first come in the form of Tak, he who walked in the darkness and blessed all those who bore his shade proudly. With age, and the looming presence of her seventh birthday, she had lost his shade. Black had faded, ebbed into a white that was pristine and beautiful. She hated it. Every inch of fur, every gleaming spot of holy white. She missed the darkness and comfort of her inky fur. Then God had come in the form of a King. A divine being set to rule by Tak's hand. The Crimson King, he who had set loose the Pale Prophet unto the world. Tak had shown her great favor then, and for forty-three days, there had been serenity. A disturbingly quiet and beautiful time when her soul had been at least. Oh love, sweet rapturous devil, destroyer of man and woman, it had taken her. Sweeping and laughing on a highway to hell. Sweet beauty and temptation, he had been her world.
Gods fell. He had fallen, and the Prince, oh, such hope she had, his Kingdom had fallen too. Across the world, a Gypsy, a Prince, a Prophet, a Jester, and a Lady of Gold had went. Bastards had come from the Prince and the Gypsy had borne bastards, the Lady in Gold had left, and the Jester had watched. With silent mad eyes in shades of gold and green, she had watched. She had faded. Fallen from the darkness into the wretched and burning light. Misery had been happy in the darkness. Where the wrongs she had done had seemed less so, and her sins were the norm. The darkness held no shame. It was the beauty of the damnable light that made her want to weep for her soul. Darkness hid its flaws.
God mourned. In her heart she could feel the heavy sadness of her deity, and she knew what would have to be done. Madness gave a strong and heavy sense of purpose to all of tis devotees. Even the unwilling. But she had embraced it. Misery had known from the time Sukan's hand, heavy and full of a terrible and breaking love had touched her that she would be mad. It was a trademark now, madness. Just as the cane she used to walk was. Her mind was sharp, brilliant, and absolutely mad. Her body was wasted. The devil she had conceived with her red-eyed King had seen fit to that. Like her Kingdom, she too had fallen. The female walked with no real sense of purpose, only the desire to see home and to feel as if she belonged. A scent on the wind reached her weary body, and bright eyes, gold and green, so beautiful saw the form in the distance. Misery had written her off as gone forever. She loved the girl, in one of the few pure and innocent ways she loved anything. "Corona." She had often wished that the girl was hers. Kaena and Ahren didn't deserve the Golden Lady.
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God would eventually come and steal them away like a thief in the night. She had no fear of the maker should He exist, and according to Gabriel from some time ago, he more than likely existed to him. But she did not believe in the likes of religion, but she did put faith into the beings that made up her family. That bond could not be broken because it was made out of a material much more stronger than bone or steel. It was the very thing that held her together and tore her apart; which was something more and more apparent since she had gotten back. offers that rolled this way and that way. She was born to indecision, a dichotomy of the worlds. One would think that her allegiance to the fallen kingdom would label her a wolf, but Corona did not. She did not label herself one thing or another because she had been on both sides of the line before. Born with the coyotes, raised by the wolves, and had even previously run with the coyotes again. She did not wear a symbol other than the one printed out on her skin, which made her like her father. Corona had a startling resemblance to Ahren, as had Molochai. They had been so close in appearance that they could have been twins at an early age.
But time had slowly wiped a lot of that away. The last time she had seen Molochai, he had looked more coyote than she did. In essence, they were probably the dichotomies of their parents. The older she had gotten, the more pronounced the agouti-taint had become on her skin, despite her ever always thin coyote frame. Maybe it was Gabriel who had gotten the short hand of it all; he didn't really look like either parent from a distance. He may have had Kaena's eyes, but it was the doggish markings that set him apart from the group. Kerberos had looked like a wolf too, she remembered well. He had been brought up by the one figure who Kaena had always told them to stray away from; that same figure who had raped Misery, as she had learned much later on. Time changed them all, and that was never so much more apparent than when she had been reeled back to reality to see Misery's dark-figure standing in front of her. Only it wasn't dark any more, but aged much more than from when Corona had last seen her. The concrete expression on her face softened immediately. “Misery, what are you doing here?” [/html]
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