Speed Racer by Her’s

Eyes gleaming predatorily like polished emeralds, the monochromatic woman traversed the bloodied plain of the Battlefield. The metallic tang of old blood hung heavy in the air, and she relished the anticipation that seemed to see into her very flesh and bone.

As she came to a stop, Absinth stood undaunted, her senses attuned to the quiet, nares testing the air for an opponent; her heart pulsating with a delighted rhythm that sought challenge. For too long she had been playing good. With the members of her band, now pack, and now she only desired the taste of blood and the thrumming of her heart in her ears.

With a howl that pierced the stillness of the night, Absinth called out to the void, her voice a symphony of invitation. The sound reverberated across the plain, carried by the wind like a harbinger of chaos. Now all she had to do was wait and see what it brought her.

wormwood