Acceptance to the pack

She accepts her suffering, basking in the torment, the inexplicable, rancid pain. Feeling her heart lose its fragile mortality; shedding its sweet, humane bereavement in lieu of the bloodthirsty and the divine. Apathetic and merciless, she were disassociated with her surroundings. Was this Rosalie really in th depths of the Valhalla; was it even possile after searching for over a year to a pack her and her sister would join? Death swiped across the pale visage of the day of the attack. A sin made with a secret misdeed. The Darkened wolves bathing around the bodice making the silent screams impossible to see.

In favor of this its over; the nighmares over, her mind was closed in effect releasing her from the burden of pressure against her skull, still haveing the same pain from the previous voices that were blabbering into her head. It was not instant relief, yet as she breathed she felt the pain. She a nemesis, sentinel, a sanctified angel of wrath, the lady cultivates death with such tender affection; maybe no more.

the siren's sheer existence would bathe in the blackened waters of sheer chaos, and such lack of understanding would drill, drill down her very bone. Lacking the sense to care for others; though it is possible. Fighting for those who prove worthy of the sinned,inpure mortal. Turning the visage of an immortal beauty the Slender woman layed her eyes on to another; leaving her baby to acquinte the lonely mistress. A nod from the tiara would dip in respect to the mother before letting the words escape from the warm;moist blood kissed lips. " The names Rosalie Claramed, im seeking the pack of the valhallas, ive travelled far to have the chance of acceptance; my sister will hopefully make it ma'am." Words born into the bitter air exhaled from parted maw. Gentle hues would cross between the two waiting. Rosalies posture is proud, but not overpowering; showing a submissive side. The gentler side.