war child [leviathan]

The dark entity that had loomed over their shoulders all their lives was dead. His head severed for good measure, buried in the dirt somewhere his detached body may never hope to uncover it. Though he may pray to be reunited and live again, he would never succeed. That thought brought peace to the dark bitch. The day was gloomy, with snow falling in fat flakes from above. It never seemed to end. Apparently winter in the north was nothing but cold and snow for months on end. How did anyone manage it? If she hadn't been so goddamned restless, she would have spent yet another day holed up in her cave.

Her front toes hung over the edge of the cliffside, shoulders hunched against the occasional breeze that whipped up the side of the mountain. A layer of snow accumulated on her back, growing by the minute. For all intents and purposes, one might have assumed her to be a gargoyle perched at its post.