When solid ground grows soft with emerald moss and rivulets of black mud, and coffee-colored water pours slowly around the trunks of densely carpeted trees, this marks the beginning of Laod Mor: the swamp of Blossom Forest. Time itself seems to slow to a soporific crawl . . . the humid jungle air grows stagnant, thick with the scent of rich flooded earth and an abundance of green things that can be found nowhere else—except perhaps Caidir Olc. In some areas of the swamp, water rises so high the only way to cross it is to crawl across fallen logs or massive roots arching from their liquid beds; in other places a wolf might wade easily through the mire—or find a fortunate stretch of mostly dry earth. Pieces of the great river, Glaesfaet Sceawere, also slice through from time to time: small falls that feed into surprisingly clear pools, only to terminate into tar-like pits. Of course, Laod Mor’s beauty shines brightest at night. Here, fireflies gather at all times of the year . . . suffusing the shadowy place with millions of twinkling lights.

Those looking to hunt here of course find a myriad of water prey, including caiman, turtles, fish, crayfish, otters, and toads.

Refresh/Reload

h e a r t . t h r o b {open, livia}
IP: 74.199.21.5

you don't have to love me . . . you don't even have to like me . . . but you WILL respect me

“Bored! I’m so—bloody—BORED!”

Kirastasia punctuated her wailing melodrama with quick vicious bites to the nearest object: a fallen branch that splintered and cracked as her stunningly powerful jaws hacked brutally into the dry wood. On the outside, the snowbird appeared cloaked in a glamour of untouched beauty; alabaster fur as soft as swan feathers, brindled in rich chocolate, rippled over flawlessly sculpted curves, and her two maple-colored eyes gleamed with an intoxicating potion of false innocence and wicked humor. She might have been plucked from some slavering male’s dream, all feminine sweetness and lusty charisma. But on the inside . . . well, though the girl would never admit it, she was absolutely her father’s daughter. And her father was a savage beast who, once bent on destruction, was like a hurricane that ripped through anything in his path. Looks and temper. Seduction and death. And few things made Kirastasia more dangerous than simple boredom.

Honestly, she had no real reason to be bored. Kira had joined a pack—Munashii Gekko—and technically had a list of things to keep her occupied. The problem was that all of those things were “pack-related,” and therefore not necessarily directly beneficial to her. Who wanted to waste their time patrolling borders and hunting for other hungry mouths? Not THIS princess! If only Milo wanted a good romp—if only Kahlan would TALK to her—but no one was currently around to amuse the poor arctic damsel. She felt as if she were dying.

“Why doesn’t . . . hic . . . anybody l-love m-me . . .” Eventually the fishnet punkette exhausted herself with her inanimate prey. She slumped bonelessly to the ground—still clenching the mostly shattered branch in her teeth—and poured out a few crocodile tears in hopes someone would see her and take pity. “WHAT d-does hic a pretty g-g-girl have to do around her for some FUN?” Giving a sudden snarl, Kira flung the mangled toy away from her, glaring at it as it crashed into the undergrowth. Then she buried her face in her paws and unleashed a sob that would have broken the heart of any who heard it.

That . . . or annoyed them to no end.



why? 'cause I'm the boss!

【Heiress of Malignant – pining for Kahlan – daughter of Kershov x Queens – sister to Kavik – LSVK】





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