There Came A Knocking At My Door... [Gerhardt]
04-14-2013, 01:38 AM
A single paw placed before the next, her bodice swung from side to side, golden eyes transfixed on the world around her, missing nothing. Caution and bitterness lingered within the very depths of her soul, blood oozed from the infected wound on her back leg, she limped, but just barely. Her gait was fluid, languid, loose. She glided across the Earth even with the limp. She wasn't glaring, but an air of caution encompassed her. She trusted no one nor anything. Abused, she had been all her life, because of a betrayal she had not been a part of, her body bore the consequences. Her innocence, taken by any who sought a good fuck, her body broken down by tooth and fang. Scars littered her like a macabre painting and yet, she stood strong. Armed like a sentinel soldier against anyone and anything that might brush the surface of what she called her emotions. It had taken a few years and a near crippling injury to set her straight. Her pseudo-father had come at her with the intent to rip the leg off his teeth had torn through muscle, tendon, and God only knew what else, her best and only friend, Glinda had stopped him and Elphaba had finally grown the courage to leave. She would not be some monsters puppet, she would not be an instrument to be used for the frustration of others, she was stronger than that... she was better than that. She would not be some weak soul who cowered in the face of advisory. She was strong, in spirit, body and mind, and she would overcome her past. No one, would bring her down again. She had avoided the packs of this foreign place like the plague, at least for the time being, she had clung to the darkness and her own solitude, her odd coat coloring. Ebony and gray save for the white collar that wrapped around her neck and dipped between her eyes, had made her an outcast, a monster, and she had no desire to be sucked back into a life of hatred and betrayal, but avoided the packs... it was another form of running and she was tired of running. She stopped just shy of the Seracian border. She didn't howl. She never was a vocal creature, and eventually someone would notice her. She would start at the beginning and work her way about Alacritis. She would know each and every pack, potentially finding a new home, if one suited her. She would not allow her father to make her a phantom. She would be somebody, someday, she would be important, and he would rue the day he ever out casted her. This she swore upon. "Speech" |
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