The Thrill of Control

Over the last two seasons, Nimue had evolved. She’d found herself in the company of some pretty dark souls- a ragtag group of loners who got high on the thrills of life, bouncing from territory to territory, stealing from the wealthy and drinking booze with the poor. She’d gotten her paws dirty, forced to survive in a world that continually turned against her- only this time, Nimue was in control. With each hardship, the nymph grew stronger, and more formidable- her means of survival had evolved into an insatiate hunger for influence. The need to keep control. The girl who’d been weak enough to be captured by Chimera didn’t exist anymore. The girl who obsessed over Rogue, hoping he wouldn’t abandon her, had vanished. All that was left now was a creature who thrived on chaos. She would never be weak again.

And in her endless pursuit of control, Nimue was left with an insatiable thirst for power. The need to dominate, subdue, exploit rushed through her veins like wildfire, pushing her forward as she loped across the battlefield, looking for someone to play with. The verdant blades did well to conceal most of her tiny frame, the tall grasses brushing against her shoulders, aiding her in her hunt. Someone was out here, she was sure of it. And when she found them, she would try to ambush them, just for the hell of it- to feel the thrill of clashing bodies, the rush of blood on her tongue, the cataclysmic bang of two souls engaged in a dance of fight, or flight.

"Nimue Vasanti"