Blood.
For a moment it is as if she can smell the metallic scent seething from her very pores. The metallic perfume consumes her, filling her with a usual fear that I have seen fill her small soul again and again. Her peace is disrupted, tranquility broken and yet she has not wavered. It is as if the young damsel has decided against her fate, refusing to believe that what she smells is real. Instead of rising to her slender legs and taking flight, the mistress lowers her upper half to the earth, resting her delicate cranium upon the soft soil and she chooses to slowly inhale the sweet scent of leftover dew upon leaves. Slowly, ever so slowly, the brightly covered girl breathes nature in. The aroma of life outweighs that sickening aroma of death and before one could tell, she has drifted into a dream. Not a real dream that derives from sleep but that of day, a delightful daydream that seeps into her very consciousness and puts her in a dangerous position. See, in this stage of blissful ignorance, she is quite vulnerable to the outside world. Then again, she was no fighter, no strong soldier that could fend off any attacker. She was young, beautifully innocent and quite frail.
Which is why she resorted to her only means of escape for speed was not her best option.
The regal looking Ethiopian has escaped into the vessels of her mind, drifting farther and farther away from this moment in time. I only know this for she has down this many times but to others on the outside she may look plenty fine. It appears as if the duchess has found a remedy to all the misery of the outside world. A way to block out the pain and darkness and continue to bask within the sanctity of her own inner peace. So far it has worked, until right about now. It is as if the sky is falling for she is not so easily aroused from this dreamlike escape. Leaves are screaming as they break, sticks crumbling in pain as something wicked comes this way. Numerous things happen all at once; eyes blink, brilliantly bright hazels instantly finding the other responsible for making that noise, body leaps gracefully from the ground at a frightened angle, slender pillars easily catching her light weight as she darts to the side, hackles raise, ears flatten and backs away slowly after those sunlit eyes catch sight of the dried blood upon the maw of a beast so white it seems like a true angel.
No angel would stain that beautiful pelt though.
It appears the golden fire girl that the beast of pearl is coming this way. I notice the way her body tightens up, the way she slowly takes step after step backwards as if hoping he has yet to see her. I also notice how he does see her and it chills me. We share the same thought as she begins to pray to any and all that by grace alone this male will fall. Stumbling this way, the creature blunders forward and Lihli finds herself darting sideways once more. Her face has turned away, eyes locking onto an opening within brush nearby, yet the girl does not head that way. The world has gone still once more. It is not the refreshing stillness of earlier, it is a dark quiet, like the quiet before a storm. Her heart pounds within the dainty chest, beating so very hard that she fears it may burst forth and she will be dead simply by fright alone. It was so quiet, why was it so quiet? A large ear flicks back, listening, waiting to her any sign that the male had come any closer. There was none. Her fiber in her being told her to run, hide, return to a place of peace, sanctity and yet, her head slowly turns back, ambers landing gently upon the snowy pelt that resides on the ground.
If one were to look at the two, or at this mess really, they may see a helpless angel laying upon the ground after fighting a brutal battle while this jackal looking creature turns to go pluck the life away. Lihli was the angel in this case for the girl has now turned her entire slender form to face the male and has even taking a cautious step towards the menace. I wonder how one could be so nice, so pure to even think about going back to this monster, especially with a past such as her own. Miraculously, the flower keeps moving forward, slowly, carefully as eyes never leave the oh so still form of this killer. Her heart has not ceased his immense beating, body still tense as auds flatten as she draws nearer and nearer. She pauses, a foot or two away from his form. Far enough away that she could have a head start yet close enough that she could now smell that horrific smell of blood once again. Her stomach churns, as she was never a fan of blood in any sort; seeing it, smelling it, tasting it.
Strange that a wolf can be squeamish over blood.
She takes a deep breath, parting her kissers slightly to allow that breath so as not to inhale the blood further. “Are you alrigh’?” Her gentle tones hide the fear that sits so plainly written on her beautiful palette and tense form. Her small accent slides out, one that lets all know she is not from around here. There is a reason for that, a reason why she has drifted so far from home. It is the same reason why she should leave this beast here alone.
How stupid it is that she doesn’t.
"Speech Speech Speech"
Lihli
You were so innocent But you were stealing my heart
damsel || lone || four
Photo and Table by Pompeii
|
|
