horrible

Doubt shot through the bronze mistress like a piercing arrow destroying resistance after so much time had passed without hearing anything from her mate. Doubt at his existence. Doubt at her journey if it was worth it. Worry grew like a corrupted, malicious and perfidy tree. Its branches twisted. But, seeds of hope wormed into the ground and no matter how large and terrifying the darkness was, it endured like a small pebble to last infinitely, more so when auditory system caught the deafening, thunderous and oh, so distinctive call. It was a call to arms and within an instant the babe figured the meaning behind it and for who it was intended. Hannibal was challenging Tyrannis for Erövrare. A muscle twitched involuntarily at the corner of her right eye, her mouth formed a rigid grimace. The babe tapped her tail furiously and all the while stared out towards the source of the call. The Battlefield. The man knew how to make a grand entrance. This fitfully sunny morning would either see the dawn of their new life or snap it in two, either way it was worth it.

It was not an easy task to leave the spawns with Hannibal sister, Cordelia, but she did in nonetheless fore she knew she had to be there. It took convincing for her part but she managed to assure herself that the devil chops will be safe in the paws of Hannibal side of the family. It did not took long for the babe to reach the Battlefield and as she did so she lessened her pace, placing one teacup paw gracefully in front of the other, calculating her movements. The crowd did not surprise the vampiric siren fore she barely offered them her time of day, instead, her fiery orange orbs, measuring planets in size with their own gravitational pull, narrowed towards the fight that seemed to have just started. 'Fight with honor, beloved' the babe thought for herself as curvaceous, feline frame came to a halt not far away from the spectacle.

In the storm they endured, Hannibal was the gentle centre. And so she come to rest at his side (theoretically) in this battle. She could notice the crowd that disapproved and the judgement they felt so entitled to. Every person needs a harbour, a secure attachment of love - for without one they could be in such pain, so lost, shutting down. Then life becomes a torture they were expected to endure, surviving, not living. Were it not for Hannibal, there would be no relief, no emotional morphine. She trusted him, he was her heroin. Of course she was addicted to him - for every reason that was impure and carnal but also there was a spark for more. They were pawns for one another but he also became an anchor she hold onto,