All I Want is a Little of the Good Life
09-28-2013, 04:55 PM
She was merely a shadow of the wolf she used to be: like a familiar smell on the wind that brought back someone's memories, or the sight of first snowfall that reminded one of Christmas - she was just a fickle shade of grey, a body detached from reality, absent and mindless like a tame zombie.
She stalked the wall of rocks, immaculately constructed for a purpose unknown to her. And given any other day, she might have been awe-struck by the mighty construction. It's architecture-design was created for some reason, and Caedena Lebeau fervently adored a good mystery, but this morning they were just rocks, just a row of nicely placed rocks. The white damsel paused, indifferent to her surroundings as the wind played with her pearly hairs. The tundra was barren, desolate and calm, with clusters of dying grass swaying in the frigid breeze - she turned her head a few degrees and glanced at how high off the ground the structure held her. A breath of curiosity was breathed into her lungs and she soundlessly moved towards the edge and seated herself gracefully.
Despite her unintelligable face and sorrowful grey-blue eyes, she retained all of her beauty: her fur was pallid and clean, a glowing, unearthly white that fit her elegant and lean body. Her long, doe-like legs were thinner than necessary with a lack of nourishment, but otherwise, she was regal, charming, and undeniably beautiful. Her pink nose quivered as she registered the scent of another canine nearby, but she cared little to give the stranger any acknowledgement.
All she could think about was how easy it would be to tip herself over the edge, but the thought was destroyed immediately. It would not please her Gods to sacrifice herself out of selfish pity. But still the faces of her son stained every emotion and influenced every motion she dared to make. Her daydreaming was interrupted by the sound of footfalls against the stones, her left ear swiveled to listen, half-convinced it was her killer finally making his move - but alas, she heard no cackles, no demonic snarling or drool spattering as it hit the ground. Caede remained statuesque as she addressed the stranger, still as a porcelain angel, her voice a soft whisper of song.
"Forgive me if I have intruded."
She was unstable, like the dying flame of a well-loved candle.
ooc: its okay! i loved it c: