a sweet tooth for genocide,

a heretic in the family tree selling misery flavored candy!

I find myself on the cliffs over the bay this night, feeling the cold fingers of winter thread through my pelt as if it was my most esteemed lover and I the cherished object of affection. I find nothing but thought in these silent moments when my wolves are off hunting the night, my children are tucked deep into the cliffside, and my shadow lurks only a few paces from me. He is never far from me in this season, and I am assured that he will remain even after this time, after all, I have made him a king.

The breeze carries with it not only the bitter cold against my skin, but something else that freezes all thought and holds my heart in an icy grip. I feel the skin tighten on the back of my neck and down my spine, the muscles pulling taut in my back, and an old tension sink into my frame. Dread, and a cold feeling come over me, it burned in my soul. My dark liver nose rose into the breeze, and I search the horizon for that tell-tale silhouette that would show me the visitor. The cliffs were the highest point in my new lands, and their height let me see all the way to the borders of my home. Black on tan, I spot the imposing figure of the male, exactly how I expected to find him. Perched on a hill and willing to be out in the open so I might see him.

Recognition sparks and flashbacks raise the hair all the way up to the base of my skull and right down to the tail tip. With an unsettled snarl, I am on the move, sneezing to expel that all too familiar scent as I make my way toward the wolf on the border. Those rich tones that both terrified and comforted me as a child made their way to my ears, and I know I have been found by the one wolf I never thought I would see again. I take my time, not rushing as his scent churns my stomach and makes me feel like a pup again.

***'I love you, Father, why do you do this to me?' My small tones rung out against the stillness of the summer air, tiny frame on its back, tail between my legs, deep snarls and yelps, pain...so much pain after that.***

Pain made me grow into the monster I am, rather than being like my mother. Training gave me skills in fighting. In a way, he helped me gain my throne, after I destroyed all those he had sent for me. One by one, they fell beneath me, and one by one, my fighting improved. Once I ran, they all died as they came for me. Each of them feared my father more than death, and each of them thanked me as they closed their eyes. Each body fed me for a while, and I have my father to thank for this. Now, he has found me himself, and his dark tones fill me with dread and apprehension.

I make a careful mask to keep away the fear I felt of him, my will stopping the shaking of my tensed muscles. As I neared him, I became a more regal and supple thing. My head raises as bright jade gems are cast over him, tail up over my back as I take in his imposing features. I feel as though I am only a year old when I stand before him in my new role, a pup seeking approval, though I hardly need such a thing now. "Feeling lighter yet, Father?" I spit the title at him, my tones a little bitter, though they are always laced with respect for the scarred warrior who raised me. I must respect him, without him I would not be where I am, but he is the only wolf to ever strike true fear into my heart. I know he must have been tracing my steps, but why did he come here, where it is too dangerous to try and touch me?

Was he going to try and kill me, take my throne? Was he here to hurt or to help? If I knew my father, he would not keep me wanting for an answer for long. Wasting time was not something he was fond of, though I have seen him do absolutely nothing for hours on end before. Far be it from me to point this out again though, I am tired of earning scars by his fangs.

mistress, five, 35in/150lbs, white w/ electric jade eyes
no one held down, no one captivated,
created widow & gehenna (x Reaver),
Night Mother of Asteraia
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