thus the moon has swallowed the sun, yet again, the world turns cold.. the shifting of tides, an eerie wind blows and the devil prowls the lands, hunting for the weak and downtrodden. a man, blanketed by his own demise, finds solace in the dark of the night. his thoughts plague him, taunting him into submission and to bow to the whim of sorrow. he's lost, unhinged and still he refuses to believe that his baby brother is dead. draugr, plucked from this world too soon and not even the birds seem to mourn this loss.

grïmmjow sighs heavily, halting his thoughts from clouding his judgement. he needed to move forward with his life, because dwelling on the past is harsh on the mind and body. so, he pursues a more glorifying virtue, however he will never forget the man who put his brother in a casket. grïmm has made it his personal mission, his vendetta to make that man rue the day he crossed him and his kin. for now, the scarred beast takes refuge near the edge of a hot spring, coming to a stop and plopping down on the earth in a huff. his steeled gaze never once left the surface of the water and his ears honed in on the different sounds around him. lost in time, locked in the clutches of memories long forgotten..

"speech"

Fuck them all, fuck the world and all the crap in it. She repeated within the walls of her mind, in regards of the shitty raid and the shitty opponent she had found. Anger poured through her like wildfire, burning red hot. If they had only given permission to actually go with lethal force, she wasn't build for soft shit, she was a fucking killer, someone without regards for others, even with her blood family she held no connection, any love, nothing. Why should she? They were the ones who treated her like a piece of shit since she was born, born gift less, without hope and only allowed to live because her littermates if she had any were dead at birth. Only because of that she was kept, otherwise she would have been killed. She grew up apathic, lacking emotions, just acting on raw desire, on instincts, but not being a moron, she was still a good tactician, but in duty, when she hunted a wolf.

The steam from the springs embraced her whole, hugging in warm arms her aching body from the fight. Her collar had protected her well enough the neck from being too injured, but there still rested bite punctures from the flea that fought her. Next time she wasn't going to be that merciful, next time she wasn't going to be nice, that was a promise. White daggers unfolded as an snarl echoed through her lungs, saliva pouring in rage and in desire, in desire to satisfy the thirst for blood, for death. Maybe a hot bath would do. Quietly she would put herself into a pool, with the safe temperature for a wolf to enter without worry, ignoring the other lingering soul. "Pieces of shit." She muttered.

""

there's a hint of sanguine in the air. it penetrates the scarred brutes nostrils, causing them to flare in response to the overwhelming odor. immediately his attention is drawn to a woman on the opposite side of the spring. she appears to be troubled, pissed off, and annoyed - or all of the above. from where he sat he could make out the cuts and bruises that litter her physique. it became quite evident that this pretty woman had been subject to violence, which of course grïmmjow was accustomed too but as far as a woman being scarred goes - very unheard of from where he comes from. he figured, leave the fighting to the men.

grïmm raises a brow at her words as they are muttered, he could barely make out what she had spat at first but he eventually was able to piece it together. 'yup, she's pissed off.' the man clears his throat, trying to make his presence known without actually making it known.. he didn't want to disturb the maiden and anger her more, but he was curious to know what had happened to her and why. "are you injured love?"

"speech"