she had not slept when the rains had come.

the girl had wandered, allowing the summer storm to drench her very soul, cleansing her of the emotions that threatened to break from her weak walls. they scratched at her from within, prodding her to release it all. so she had. in the peak of the rains, in the middle of it all; the queen cried. falling into the very mud that now clings to her as it dries. she had crashed, knowing very well what would happen to her at the end of this season. it had come to her in a vision, in aa dream or one could even say a nightmare. it had come to her, and she had practically welcomed it. there she had laid, in the wet dirt of her very terra, sobbing and convulsing as if a witch had spelled her. even after the rains had stopped, she did not. hours had come, sun lifting from behind clouds to warm her and still she wept.

odessa was dying,
from the inside out

within the stream near her den is where she resides, staring into the filthy reflection of herself in agony. it is unbearable to her to see the obvious beauty in her sweet blues. outwardly, she looked perfect, utterly perfect. the colors on her palette, though covered in mud, were mixed wonderfully. her face held the strength of axel, though her bone structure carried the grace of pandora. her features carried the warrior known as lycaon, for the aging soldier was the very reason why she had survived this long without others seeing her very weakness. head lowers into the water, eyes closing as the cool liquid rushes along her face, cleaning it along with any hint of darkness that threatens to consume her so early. no, she will make it difficult for her nightmare to become reality. this will be her fight, her last, her best. her body slides into the waters next, the queen practically falling into the wet embrace. the stream is small, waters rising to her neck when she lays down. she crawls, cleaning and awakening though she has not even slept. she probably wouldn't slep when she returns to her den either.

slender frame rises from the waters like a newborn rising from the ashes, she shakes, a gentle sigh released until she moves forward towards her den. it takes her mere minutes for the ess to dance across the grounds and make her way to her lovely abode. but as she draws near, she can smell him. Romulus. she remembers the train wreck entering the pack meeting, remembers how different he was and she had practically dropped everything for him. that was then, this was now. she breaks through the brush, his dark form reminding her of her own father's only, he looked malnourised, skinny even. the love bites upon his body seeming to already be clearing up. she pauses, standing behind him as he tilts his head towards her den. she is watching him, calmly observing his strong stance as he seems to wonder if odessa is even in there. her den isn't one of those massive ones, it is a simple side hole in a mound of dirt meant for a smaller verson of herself. there was no way he couldn't tell that odessa wasn't there.

unless he was blind.

she never knew, nor would have guessed so instead her gentle alto tones slid from her kissers. "you came." they are filled with relief, not that he is here but that he is alive in general. he looked horrible at the meeting, and even before then there was a darkness settling about him like a dangerous fog. she moves forward, coming around him to fix him with her hard blues only, she stops in her steps as she comes to his side. light crystals rest upon her nephews eyes, or at least, where eyes should be and only lids with scratches remain. she inhales sharply, but quietly, cursing gently at him. slowly she moves towards him, like a stern mother would only odessa was not his mother. nose presses gently upon cheek for a half second before she tears away, remembering who it is she is touching. he may run from her, or yell at her, or now he may have just come to mess with her head. how sadistic could he get? how much more would he do to make odessa feel responsible?

"fool," she hisses, the insult sliding out with a whip of her harsh tongue. "what have you done?" these words are gentler, more questioning with worry laced all over them. she dare not show the boy mercy for it was not Rom's way. he hated synpathy, or so she believed. he hated when others fawned over him and gave him love. perhaps it was because the boy had no idea what love was. only, not just the smell of rain was upon dear Rom, she could smell her sister Eriel as well. a giant sigh as she sits, curling her thick tassel around slender legs.

she would not push Rom, give him guidance, give him affection or even give in to his childish games. but if he wanted her to embrace him, if he wanted odessa to take his secrets to the grave,

well that just may be possible.

ooc: i tried, pass is sparkle, feel free to edit as much as you want.