JUMPING FENCES

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? what had once been an unwavering and irrefutable belief had begun to wither into the oblivion of what once was. the confidence the phantom deity harbored towards those select few of her given surname has gradually dissipated over time, and only falters further with every instant they abandon her and prove of their degeneracy. her heart no longer yearns for their companionship nor of their approval -- perhaps the sole soft spot the elysius tyrant possesses has hardened, perhaps she is destined to wallow in the monotony of total indifference from this moment forth, lack of the concern that once fiercely flared within her chest cavity for her broken family. she had been a dutifully persistent monarch to the point of near-selflessness as she bled and annihilated for their sake; and yet, they have not offered her similar devotion -- they have epitomized negligent parasites as they latched onto and basked in the limelight only she has been entitled to. yes -- it has always been she who had been deserving of infamy, of glory! they have done nothing, and consequentially, shall henceforth have nothing.



the paladin is in a state of sempiternal unrest, her aspirations no longer clear even to herself, for without her family, she has no purpose and nothing to strive for. her time as queen was fleeting, mundane, and her ambitions are no longer limited to such authority -- that prestige has always been empty along with the titles that had ever been bestowed upon her head. her fate is not for queenship, but of the diligent and ruthless mercenary, and such becomes more prominent as the carnal desire for gore and carnage swells within the decadent chasms of her poisoned mind. the adrenaline influx she had received when she had first slaughtered the deranged wraith that had dared trespass within her domain had been too intoxicating, too enthralling to ignore -- and the phantom frequently finds herself craving to generate further homicide upon the subservient dregs littering their cesspool-world.



her pace is lackadaisical as she writhes through the mouth of a familiar enclave, the aroma of salt wafting thoroughly through flared velveteen nostrils as oversized paws breach the water?s surface, abstract gaze ravaging every inch of the cavern?s interior in search of any stray occupants. alas, she proceeds through the dank grotto unaccompanied, triangular ears swivelling frantically atop the skewed slopes of her crown as she remains attentive to her surroundings, alert of any potential pursuers as she maneuvers towards the rear of the cave, thoughts drifting in a brief commemoration of the sovari brute whose malicious presence she had grown accustomed to, only to be abandoned by him { so very similarly as her family had }. perhaps, however, if she lingered within the premises of their meeting grounds, he would yet again manifest unexpectedly as he once had -- though the tyrant queen had her doubts.