The Unraveling - It Burns

Illusion's silvery eyes glinted, their manic gleam now carrying a soft spark of twisted amusement as she watched the worm, its monstrous form writhing under the onslaught of wolven kind. The flames that erupted from its maw danced in a mesmerizing display, to which her lips curled into a wicked smile. Really, she was enjoying this quite a lot. Around her, bodies stumbled and fell, cries of pain mingling with the roars of battle. A body squashed under rubble. A child crying out in disbelief. None of it mattered. Not the blood. Not the agony. Not even the fleeting glance she spared for Gruesome, his presence filed under ‘unimportant’ within her mind. The same went for the smaller twin brother of his—which she had to remember was her brother as well.

Her focus was solely on the beast before her. It's rage. It's fire.

“You’re putting on quite the show,” she cooed softly, just for her, just for the worm, her voice dripping with mockery and diabolical flirtation as she circled the edges of the chaos, her steps slow, watching, teasing. "Is this all for me? I’m flattered."
The flames surged again, a wave that licked at her fur as she darted closer. Her smirk widened, a soft chuckle escaping her throat. She let her eyes linger on the beast, as if tracing every curve of its fleshy body, every jagged and pulpy edge of its massive form, before tilting her head with feigned curiosity.

“Come now,” she purred, her tone velvet and venom alike, “Don’t go stumbling around like that. You’ll ruin your grand finale.” Her steps brought her nearer, dangerously close to its lashing tendrils, her body language daring it to strike her again. She reveled in the heat, the danger, the chaotic thrill of standing at the edge of destruction. Her destruction, or the creature’s.

She paused, her voice dropping to a hushed, sultry whisper. Nothing for others ears. “Let’s dance, shall we? Show me just how much fight you’ve got left, beautiful.”

Then, with a laugh that was half a snarl, half a sultry invitation, she lunged forward, taunting the beast with her recklessness. Defiance—challenge, a game to which she was savoring every moment of it. Jaws spayed as she took her first bite of the beast, taking it within her jaws and pressing her paws into its preexisting wounds to rend what she could, tracing nonsense with her claws.


"Illusion Nightwing"