I am the horror you created;

the mind fuck you instigated

If she were to be on her.. best behavior, would it not be wise for her to be somewhat less of a hermit amongst the masses of Diveen? The thought of seeking out company from those who wished to tear into her throat sent her mind to dark places, but she attempted to resurface from the depths, and bring about more pleasant thoughts.

It cannot be for certain that she was exactly successful in conjuring up such things - but away she has sent herself either way.

Perhaps learning a bit more about one or two individuals within the pack would strengthen her; to take a moment and slip into their brain, feel around for a while, and to understand what it is that makes them work in a structure such as Diveen. Maybe they did not work at all in something so large and complex. Little could be said about the pack’s recent presence amidst Moladion since the war that had broken out between they are Iromar. If they were so adamant about being enemies with this other pack, why were they not justifying their cause and acting upon it? This, among other things, are what Stella has the need to understand.

The little white girl from the crags had given her some insight to such things - though she was but a pup and likely knew very little of the politics that happened within her home. Her outlook upon life was.. a bit skewed in Stella’s perspective and yet in some universe maybe it made sense. She thinks back to this time in the previous year as she stalks through the terrain, her large paws treading over the stones by the riverside and every now and then, straying into the shallows as she went. Autumn was refreshing - if not a bit anxiety-ridden as she pondered on the prospect of procreation this coming winter. Never had a knot so tight been woven into her stomach as the days passed by with a speed yet unseen to her. It were as if nature itself were rushing her decision. She had accepted Lucian as a mate, if not only for the promise of strong, formidable offspring. He was older in years, yet she did not doubt that his seed was still worthy, he had risen from a long lineage of respectable lupines and intertwining their blood will create nothing less than perfection in Stella’s own eyes.

But she may be following her natural instinct far too much this year. There was no other conceivable reasoning for her desiring to take a mate and to produce little hellions - it was never in her true nature to want such things. And so the chance that she may not allow him to take advantage of her is quite as high as it is that she will accept him this approaching season. She was never - and likely never will be - the mothering type.

A strong aroma carries her wandering mind away from these worries as her eyes locate a figure similar in color to her own as the other sits by the waterside. For a moment, her mind reverts back to ages past, memories locking onto none other than her half-sibling, Zeteri. The devils in her skull rise against what calmness had been brought over her as they cry for the opportunity to lash out against the dark one. The ferine woman approaches with glacial eyes intent upon who she believes is her sister and a wicked snarl beginning to raise her black lips. She is eager to attack and to finish what she and Tobias had begun so many years before - Zeteri had always been feeble in Stella;s mindset. The early onset of sibling rivalry fired into overdrive by Tobias’ constant presence in driving out the weak.

Though a strong, autumn wind blows through the walls of the pack, and rushes a scent not of Zeteri, but of a stranger, to her sensory. She pauses in her stalking mannerism, her eyes ablaze now turning to realization as the truth of reality is settled into her mind. This was not Zeteri. It was not. They calmed at this fact, those horrible, ravenous things within her poisoned mind. They will cease their destruction for the moment, but there is no promise that they will disappear entirely. As she now stands, her head low and eyes staring into the turned face of the other, an oddly familiar scent is carried in the midst of this female’s fur. Something akin to the little white one she had met not too far into the past. She does not speak, nor does she question what relation she may have to the girl, but she watches with a silent curiosity. Something akin to near innocence.

devil of abraxus x kiska | ten years | no servitude