load up on guns

Nirvana could feel it. Something strange was building up inside her, a need. A desire. It would consume her in time, it would consume her eventually. She had needs. She had dire, dire needs. The need to sink her teeth into something, into anything. To rip. To bite. To rend flesh from bone. She needed it desperately, though she wouldn’t dare show that desperation. Not to anyone. No. It was only for her to be, and her to know.

To the battlefield she crossed, letting go a sharp call. A spar. All she could do was to ask for a spar and sink her teeth into whatever came her way. It would be enough to settle the hunger that grew within her, it would be enough for now. It had to be. It had to be enough. There was no telling exactly what Nirvana would do within that spar, no. The only certainty is that she was nearly feral in all things, and in this especially.


"Nirvana"