Now shut your dirty mouth

Along the shoreside, northeast and outwith its bifrost, hues of emerald, castleton and seafoam green’s loomed overhead, but soon turned arid and sculpted.

Alloy and copper tinctures caressed the panorama as if it were once a desert without these, well, sublimely forged canyons –– gulley's, even, and caverns alike. They meandered, traversed and sunk subterrestrial, daring to be prospected by someone who cared more to do so. She’d breathe, druid and laden. The monolithic crags that fabricated from the earth were of no incredulity to the graveyard’s existence, nor her intellective ambitions. Lebraid only coveted a living purgatory, yet one with lawfully circuitous provocations, be it now, or later. Did it already exist, howbeit? A wintry, sonorous growl ricocheted from the wolf’s ajar lips, eyes taut and hackles barbellate; and then, another, their odour becoming more potent as she tred with portly paws. It was nauseating, to say the least. Pallid, tintless galaxies fell upon a peru, ochreous-coppered girl -- smaller, how different -- still, conversing in conversations was far from beguiling, if not repugnant at best. Emotions, of course, did not pluck or ploy, but rather strangulated under the contusions of her past, begging to be let out. She needn’t say a word, demeanour ogrish like a wraith that could not die, staring, silent.

Action. | “Speech.” | Skill.
“Wrong me once, I’ll kill you twice.”