Dabbling

One, two, three, four, that's the sound of an armies roar. A roar so much like a lion's, mistaking the white femme for a feline. Her rhythm, in motion, every fiber and molecule seemed to grind together in remedies of a melody. So on tune to her own demise, her massive paws creased the soft surface of the mud-covered ground, the beat of her own drums sounded as if bodies were dropping like rapid fire at her command. But instead, nothing but the solitude of her insanity leaked from her pores. The inner caliber of a serial killer, a murderer, a well rounded sociopath was caressing her masculine frame through thick marshes of the swamp that went on for miles.

A flowing creativity of her own making, which swirled around her soulless being with no exception of fading away. This creativity stood out above all, which certainly did exceed in having Sinister look like a pure phantom in the eerie moonlit night. But did this threaten to shred her walls down to where she would turn and flee with her tail between her legs? Hell no, that's not at all who she is, she'll always and forever be the one to laugh in the face of evil; challenge the devil for his kingdom and over thrown him.

Her stomach rumbled, indicating she was starved, which meant it was time for her next meal; her next victim to fall in the hands of defeat. Oh how she couldn't wait to ravish her late night snack with these darling, razor sharp, and blood stained canines of hers. That unholy pink tongue ran over her fangs, slicing into the tough muscle of her tongue, and at that feeling she lapped it back into her mouth to drain her own blood down her throat. Nothing like a little of your own metallic liquid, eh? Now, on to the business. Sinister wanted blood, she was getting anxiety from many miles she has been walking since her last departure from ones land, trying so hard to make further distance to her father as much as she possibly could.

Simply halting, feeling the beast inside of her rake at the surface of her flesh that kept the demon caged inside. Sinister rarely let the monster rage out, though the demonic wrath within her screamed out for vengeance. A scent, a smell so horrid and nose bleeding, that it sent her into over-drive. She has never felt this kind of surge before, one that lusted to tear into the epithelium of a female whom was near by. For the sake of this unknown she-wolf, Sinister wished for her to run and never look back, yet not even seconds passed and the evil wolf approached the white fae with caution. Muscles that scattered throughout her body, much more buff and colossal then this femme cleansing herself in front of Sinister. Sure, she looked like she could be under the impression of a male, but this masculine she-wolf was in fact a female. A quite intimidating, and terrifying one at that..

"Speech"
'thoughts'