THERE IS MAYHEM TO MAKE
01-21-2014, 02:29 PM
A sultry form, cloaked in shadows, traipsed across the barren landscape. Tea cupped paws made no sound as the grasses brushed against her sleek body, mismatched optics taking in the bland landscape. As she had been travelling through the shadows, getting her bearing within this place, she had heard someone call this perfectly flat plain 'The Dancefloor of the Gods'. However, if the gods had chosen to dance here, surely there would be more to it than emptiness? That was a thought for another day, when she had more information on the subject. A flicker of movement caught the eye of the woman, and her tiara would pivot to fix an evergreen and mauve gaze upon it. A small rabbit was chewing away at the grass, which tempted the wraith to kill it, for being so placid. With a snort of disdain, she continued on her way, long legs keeping a fluid, trotting gait as she moved across the landscape. She had come here in search of her family, but she had just arrived and wanted to see what had drawn them all here. So far, they all looked like morons with no taste, even Loki. Sitting down with s huff, the femme lifted a small paw and pulled a nagging burr from in between two of her toes. Spitting it out onto the boring grassland, she cleaned the welling blood from where a particularly nasty bristle had gone into her flesh too far. With that, she replaced that paw and looked about some more. What is wrong with my family? Gods, this is ridiculously boring. The obsidian bitch thought to herself, lifting a lip in disgust. Where were the shadows? Where was the possibility for being cruel to others? The answer was, so far nowhere. Resting her long banner flush with her left haunch, the shadow would look around in search of some entertainment.
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