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 Posted: Mon Feb 11, 2013 9:39 pm
 The pale mare with the ghostly red eyes walked slowly away from her comrades, hearing their whispers wash over her like the breeze. It did not bother her what they called her. That they thought her a demon for what she did. For enjoying what she did. For all the times one of them had ticked her off and she had killed him or severely wounded. One would think they would learn their lesson and not taunt her further.
Then again, Emile never did react to the baiting. It was all in sport. Like a game to them. Bait the mare who brought death everywhere she went, see if she reacted. If she slashed back. A game of dare, that was all. Had she been interested, she would have obliged them by cutting every single one of them with the knife she always kept hidden in each sleeve. If they wanted to hurt so badly, who was she to deny it? She was the best one to give it. Hurt them just enough to make them regret their actions so she could coldly tell them to their face "Was this not what you wanted?" That would be fun. Hear the begging. Not to get back at them. Just to hear it. Never did she really feel the need for revenge. As strange as that was for one so fond of the slaughter.
But she didn't. The knives remained tucked away. Emile was bloodthirsty, but she wasn't stupid. If it wasn't a game they were playing, they were trying to make her angry on purpose. Those who despised her most of all and wanted her gone. It wasn't just paranoia fueling these thoughts. She knew it true. Killing her they knew would be difficult. She made her living killing and making enemies of those she killed. She knew how to watch her back and protect herself. This had been demonstrated well enough that time a while ago when they had been ambushed. Thinking her weak because she was a mare, thinking her in need of 'rescue' from those horrible others who kept her in such horrible conditions as to have her constantly smelling of blood, they went after her. And she had put up a fight.
All that had done was ensure her comrades knew she wouldn't go down without a fight should they wish to take her out. So all that was left was bait her and get her kicked out.
On top of a small hill Emile Theresia stopped. She raised her head to the wind, letting it blow her mane and tail about her body. It had been about a week since she had killed. The smell of all the blood spilled on her remained, stronger in the faded red areas of her skin she couldn't wash clean. But no fresh blood adorned her body. At least not yet.
The flowers were in bloom here. It was pretty.
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Posted: Sun Oct 26, 2014 10:46 pm
The fallen wolf king wandered high trees overhead. Kingdomless and Sonless still. The pain of his curse could and would never fade. In this world there were gods to kill a pantheon just like the world from which he came. Lycaon grumbled and cursed under his breath as he began thinking on how best to kill those gods that reigned in this world. Mortal as he was he could not do it without power. Right now however, power he certainly lacked.
How could he get power in this world? Such a thing was always elusive, he pondered. Perhaps the legends of the locals might instil some knowledge to him.
But for now he was hungry.
As to what he was unsure. Lycaon shifted into his wolf shape his nose being far superior in this form. Despite his hate for his wolf half he had to admit it came in handy from time to time. The scent of dried blood carried itself on the wind mixed with flowers. There was something else he could not quite pick out. curious.
The wolf left the forest emerging into a field of flowers in full bloom. Now who or what would smell so sweet? he wondered. He reached the top of one of the hills only to see a beautiful starborn mare atop a nearby knoll. Lycaon's nose told him she was the source of the smell.
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Ice_Dragon_Demon
Ice_Dragon_Demon
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Posted: Wed Jun 24, 2020 8:20 pm
Emile was standing completely still among the flowers, her eyes closed against the breeze that fluttered her long hair about her pale body. She would have you believe that blood helped keep it looking so beautiful and healthy. There was nothing else she did with it, yet it always seemed to thrive no matter what she did. It had many times been called her true beauty by those who didn't want to give the rest of her credit for being just as pretty. Often times, her body was splashed with the remnants of someone's blood. And who would really call that beautiful?
As still as a mannequin she stood, moving not a single muscle even when she opened her eyes to settle on the other form nearby. Most equines would have run. Every herbivore would certainly have run as fast as they could. Emile, on the other hand, kept her stance. She feared not death. Didn't care if she died or not. The only joy she ever got from life was from torture. The rest of life was just boring. Dull. Just the time between the real fun. And than when she got back to the real fun, she'd drag it out as long as she could, to savor the moment and lesson when she had to go back to the robotic day-to-day that was the in between.
So, watching the wolf with her intense eyes, she breathed in deeply and let it out slowly, her ears trained forward on the other creature and only him.
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