So much had happened since she crawled through the tundra and found herself in this strange place. She’d come here thinking herself a pariah, a monster with nothing to offer the world but death and misery. A part of her still believes this, rebelling viciously against the whispering darkness that curls fingers around her mind; another part remembers the words Vitaliya had said to her in the valley that day. Even death has a purpose, and she would accept her duty to deal out his justice regardless of the pain it might bring her to end the life of another.
After all, not everyone deserves to live, as Vitaliya had reminded her.
She’d hardly been in Asteraia long enough to get a good rest when the invitation for the ball came through. Perhaps it was foolish, but a small part of her leapt with excitement at the idea of a ball, though she didn’t quite know what it was. It fascinated her, and though she knew she shouldn’t go, she couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like to mingle with other wolves as if she were like them, normal.
As much as she’d like to imagine it, though, she wasn’t like the rest of them. With a heavy heart, she decided not to go, resigning herself to stay behind and entertain herself with songs and imagination. The night of the ball, she watched the other wolves leaving, her coal eyes following them as a sadness settled into her heart, burrowing in like a splinter until she turned her gaze away from them.
She couldn’t go. She shouldn’t.
Despite everything inside telling her she shouldn’t, she’d followed the pack, slipping from the shadows to fall behind them. Her heart thundered in her chest wildly the further she went, but she didn’t turn back around. It might’ve been a selfish choice, but she’d made quite a few of those since coming to this place, hadn’t she?
Now, staring up at the leader of Taviora amidst the other wolves, worry shivers down her spine. She hopes that she won’t bring darkness among them, but her confidence is nonexistent as her gaze sweeps the crowd. Vitaliya had given her purpose, but she still doesn’t know if she can control the darkness. Would some here suffer for her presence? In the distance, the wolfess’s voice fades out and the buzz of the crowd grows around her like a festive bubble. Panic tightens her throat like a vice and she takes a step back, her legs trembling slightly.
’Breathe. You are not a monster, sweet child. You are justice. You are the reaper’s scythe.’
Before, she would have crumpled at the sound of that silky, slithering voice. Now, she takes a steadying breath and turns, picking her way through the crowd until she reaches the edges, collapsing on a soft pelt of fur. Her heart still thunders heavily, pounding in her ears, but she doesn’t feel the urge to flee as she had only moments before. Vitaliya had taught her something, whether she’d meant to or not.
(ooc - god this is awful, sorry D: )